#i genuinely get so scared that friends will outgrow me or get bored of me

[thatblondeperson]

Anyone else absolutely terrified of being left behind? All of us? Cool cool.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (6)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3. 

*****

Mac fidgeted with the T.V. remote. Riley hadn’t returned yet. Bozer and Matty busied themselves with digging up intel on Petrov, and Desi sprawled across the couch. 

Which left Mac with nothing to do but think. 

Riley would be back any minute now, and Mac had no idea what to say to her. They needed to talk about the kiss. Dropping a “you’re my best friend and favorite coworker, but surprise, I’m in love with you” bomb on her in the middle of a mission seemed like a stupid idea, but ignoring what happened would make it even more awkward than it already was. Fuck. 

Mac snapped his head toward the door as the lock clicked. Riley slipped inside, opening the door just wide enough to squeeze through. Her hair was a windswept, tangled mess, but other than that, she appeared to be fine. Tension eased in his chest that Mac hadn’t realized was there before. 

She still wore his jacket. 

Riley went right to his side, although she remained a respectful distance away instead of standing shoulder-to-shoulder like usual. She looked almost...shy. Mac could see the hesitation in her eyes. He really fucked up. Now she wouldn’t even come near him. 

“Miss much?” she asked. 

“Nobody’s planning on killing us, yet.” 

“First time this week,” she retorted. Mac chuckled, earning a glare from Desi. 

Slowly, Mac closed the space between himself and Riley, so they could talk without being overheard. He gave her the opportunity to back away, but, to his surprise, she didn’t. “We need to talk,” he whispered. Riley paled. Shit, that was not the reaction he wanted. Not even close. 

“Mac, I...I understand.” Her eyes said it all. She looked disappointed. Embarrassed. Hurt. No no no no no no. Whatever she thought she understood, it was a far cry from what he was about to say. Did she really not know how he felt? He wanted to touch her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and show her all the things she didn’t understand. He wanted to tell her that his heart belonged to her, and he was committed to her for the long haul, although that may not be as long as they’d like since they both had a penchant for getting shot at. And then, after all that, he wanted to back her into a wall and tell her how sexy she looked in his jacket and learn exactly how to elicit those little noises again. 

He needed to stop thinking those things about her. Riley could read him like a book. 

Yet, she’d utterly failed to see what was right in front of her face. Maybe...maybe she misunderstood because he’d hid it so well. Too well, if the brokenness in her eyes was any indication. 

“Riles, no--” 

She shook her head. “Don’t ‘Riles’ me right now.” 

“Got him,” Bozer announced, leaving Mac with his jaw hung open. His unsaid words evaporated off his tongue. 

“Viktor Petrov,” Bozer read off the screen, “thirty four year old Bulgarian mob boss and rare art connoisseur.”

Riley moved to stand behind Bozer, reading over his shoulder. Mac studied her--feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back. He liked to think of it as her war-room stance. The woman could save the world while standing like that. “He’s on several intelligence agencies’ watch lists,” Riley said. “Looks like he’s never been arrested, but Petrov is a power player in the Eastern European black market.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Mac slid his gaze to Desi. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em.” 

“Don’t forget, I picked you too,” she shot back. Ouch. He probably deserved that. Bozer suddenly found the computer screen extra fascinating. 

“In her defense,” Riley said, “he is really hot.” The two women shared a conspiratorial glance. If they ever really became friends, all hell would break loose.  

Matty broke the ensuing awkward tension. “Get this. He’s part of a collective of shady powerful individuals that uses black market items, real or fake, to keep tabs on all the major power players of the world--major corporations, terrorist cells, and--wait for it--intelligence agencies.” 

“Like the CIA,” Riley muttered. 

“Exactly. Someone in the group puts an item on the market just to see who comes running,” Matty explained. 

“So he thought he was pulling a fast one on a wealthy American, but…” Bozer trailed off. 

Mac delivered the final blow. “We were made the moment he saw Desi.” 

*****

This mission seemed to be one cursed piece of bad news after the next, Bozer thought. 

Petrov was going to out them as spies to the whole European criminal underworld, thus preventing them from ever doing field work again on the whole continent. They’d never be safe with Petrov’s bounty on their heads. 

If that wasn’t enough trouble, there was something weird going on with Mac and Riley. Post-Codex, Mac almost exclusively called her “Riles.” But, ever since their weird little whisper session, Mac abandoned the nickname. Bozer had no idea why. 

As if it were trying to spite him, the computer made an error noise. Bozer sarcastically imitated the sound. He didn’t feel any better. 

*****

Desi hated playing bait. She’d much rather be the one waiting in the shadows, swooping in just in the nick of time to save whoever got stuck as bait. But, noooooooo. Here she was, leaning against a wall, trying to look bored and sexy at the same time. 

It had been Bozer’s idea to have her wear the last of Riley’s dresses. This one was a skimpy, silver-sequined dress that latched onto her body like a leech. The neckline plunged below her breasts, and if it was any shorter, it’d be a shirt. It fit her well enough, except for the top. Riley’s boobs were bigger than hers, and it had taken some creative safety-pinning on Riley’s part to make the dress fit. 

To top it all off, there wasn’t a chance in hell she could hide a gun under that thing. 

“Sitting around waiting to get kidnapped, again. Best. Day. Ever.” Desi didn’t shy from making quips over comms while she waited. No one indulged her. 

Petrov’s steady, confident footsteps were her only warning before he rounded the corner. He spotted her instantly, eyes glimmering like he was starving and she was a cheeseburger on a sparkling silver platter. 

“I should’ve known better than to leave you unsupervised.” His voice was a promise of a thousand mistakes to be made. “Hello, darling. Miss me?” 

“I did until you drugged me and tied me up.” 

“I seem to recall you like being tied up.” 

She smiled but laced her words with venom. “Not that kind. Besides, I’d much rather tie you up instead.” Desi practically heard the words behind his smirk. Whatever you say, darling. 

She fought back memories bubbling to the surface as he dragged his gaze up and down her body. “That is quite the dress.” She snorted. He knew her well enough to know she would never wear a dress this ridiculous of her own free will. “I see you’ve gotten more tattoos since we last...met,” he said, innuendo dripping off the last word. His eyes traced the new designs on her arms and thighs before turning inquisitive, as if imagining what new tattoos there were in places he couldn’t see. She thought about making a snarky comment but decided against it. 

Viktor finally met her eyes again, and Desi remembered what drew her to him in the first place. His striking blue eyes were nothing like Mac’s. While Mac’s were bright and curious, Viktor’s were dark, intense, and captivating. In another time and place, she could’ve lost herself counting the green flecks in them. 

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked, likely knowing the answer already. “I assume you didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.” 

“You, actually.” 

“Is that so?” He definitely knew. 

“Yes. I’m waiting for you to give me an apology.” 

He stepped closer. “The verbal kind? Or the other kind?” 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Desi asked dryly. She had no intention of ever getting in bed with him again, but damn he was distracting. 

 “Why? Are you seducible?” Viktor grazed his fingers up her arms, sending a shiver down her spine. He growled, “What kind of apology do you want, Desiree?” 

Desi put on a show of thinking through her options. “Both.” 

“Greedy. Your room or mine?” 

“Mine.” She had him now. Desi pushed off the wall and looped her pinky finger around his. He dutifully walked behind her, like a dog called to heel. She led him to the elevator and the trap waiting above. Okay, Riley, she thought. Your turn. 

Desi stopped at the room next door to the suite the team was using as home base and made sure Viktor was paying close attention as she slid the room key from her bra. His eyes glazed a bit, still a sucker for little things like that. Desi opened the door and waved him through. “After you.” She gave him a wicked smile, the first genuine one of their encounter. 

Not suspecting a thing--What an idiot, Desi thought--Viktor Petrov strolled into the room and found himself face to face with a scarily cold and calculating Riley, who, as far as he knew, was American businesswoman and heiress Danika Jackson. He quickly hid his surprise beneath a mask of neutrality. Lounging in a chair, Riley looked infinitely, gloriously bored. 

“I see you’ve met my bodyguard,” Riley said cooly. 

Viktor didn’t miss a beat. “Bodyguard, you say? Seems like a boring job for someone of your--” he glanced at Desi “--background.” Desi kept her face blank. He was Riley’s problem now. 

Riley began, “Mr. Petrov, as a successful businessman, I’m sure you already know that eventually, people like us outgrow the people around us. So, we must continually surround ourselves with the very best.” Riley looked him dead in the eye, cold and unfeeling. “There’s no point in carrying dead weight to the top.” She gestured to Desi. “She is far from dead weight. Besides, the private sector pays better.” Viktor didn’t notice, but Desi saw how Riley pressed her heels firmer into the floor, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. The little movement was the only sign of the Riley she knew beneath the icy exterior. 

Viktor looked a little uneasy, but he definitely wasn’t scared of the woman before him. But, by the time Riley was done with him, he would be. Riley’s eyes ignited, recognizing the challenge. 

“Now, about your little locket chip scam.” 

*****

Mac and Bozer didn’t know where this cold, calculating, and slightly insane Riley came from. They rarely got glimpses of the business side to Artemis37, but here she was, in the flesh. Mac watched the scene unfold on the computer screen, equally in awe and terrified of her. 

A woman to be feared. 

She made Matty the Hun look like a kitten. If she could see this, Matty would be proud of her. 

There was no sign of their Riley behind that cold stare. Her fingers drummed the arm of her chair. To his credit, Petrov didn’t cower. In fact, he was starting to look a little too comfortable, which was about to be a problem. 

Perhaps he needed a...demonstration. Something to make him squirm a little. 

Mac’s idea was a terrible one, and Riley would probably shoot him for it later, but it was still an idea, and Mac was pretty sure it would work. Even if he damned himself in the process. 

He just hoped she’d sincerely meant it when she said the surprise closet kiss was okay. 

“Stay here,” he said, walking to the door. 

Bozer made a face. “Okay?” Mac didn’t say anything else as the door clicked behind him. 

If Petrov was half as smart as Desi made him out to be, then he’d be monitoring footsteps in the hallway. He’d immediately know it was a set-up if Mac walked straight next door to the room Riley and Desi had Petrov cornered in. Mac forced himself to walk past the room--past Riley--to the stairwell on the opposite end of the hall, taking his time descending to three floors below. He could hear Riley’s half of the conversation over comms, but Petrov wasn’t close enough to either woman for their comms to pick up his voice. 

Mac fixated on the cold arrogance in Riley’s tone as he strode for the elevator. There wasn’t a shred of the woman he’d come to know and love in it, like she’d turned her emotions off as easily as flicking a light switch. He shivered. 

The elevator took its sweet time arriving, and in the meantime, Riley had some choice words about Pierre. The doors opened, revealing a middle-aged couple already inside. They scowled when they noticed he pressed the button for just three floors above. Mac flashed them an innocent smile. 

Mac stepped out of the elevator onto his floor, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He took heavier steps than normal, ensuring Petrov wouldn’t recognize the same pattern from before. Riley confided, once, that as a kid she would learn the pattern of people’s footsteps so she was never caught unaware. By footsteps alone, she knew who was walking down the hall--her mom, Elwood, even Jack. The variations in their gaits, she’d said, said a lot about their current state. For example, her dad’s steps normally were unhurried, but when Elwood’s walk turned heavy and prowling, it was her first warning to find somewhere to hide. And cover her ears. 

Mac’s heart snapped when Riley confessed she still did it, mostly out of habit. He swore right then and there that his kids--and hers, for that matter--would never need to learn that skill, for any reason. 

Mac swiped his key card and walked right in, ignoring Desi standing by the door in her disco ball dress. Petrov stood in the middle of the room, a healthy distance away from both women, with his hands in his pockets. He had the casual posture of a man who was used to being the most powerful person in a room. The man exuded wealth, from his perfectly tailored suit to his immaculate leather shoes. 

And then Mac saw Riley. 

The video feed he’d been watching didn’t do her justice. She lounged in an antique chair like it was her throne, the hotel suite her court. Her navy blue gown pooled at her feet, and her black acrylic nails gave the illusion of claws or talons drumming the armrests, not human fingers. 

Mac dragged his gaze higher. 

Her hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, no longer wild and windswept. No, this Riley was a far cry from the woman who’d cackled while speeding down foreign streets in a stolen Lamborghini convertible. This Riley was polished, cold, and looked like she was debating skinning Petrov alive. 

Her dark eyes, usually so full of laughter and compassion, held the vast, black emptiness of the space between stars. They were black holes, consuming everything in their path. 

She was otherworldly, predatory, and very, very sexy. 

Mac started to banish the thought from his brain, but he reconsidered. He was here to play the role of scandalous boyfriend, after all. 

He let every more-than-friendly thought he’d ever had about Riley turn his expression ravenous. Musings and memories of her flashed in his mind. The way her laugh warmed him from the inside out. The way she sat too close and furrowed her brow while she thoroughly beat him at any and every video game. The way her ass looked in one of the bazillion pairs of skin-tight jeans she owned. 

He didn’t care if she saw the truth in his eyes. Didn’t care if she read his feelings like a book. 

Some part of him wanted her to see the truth of it all, glimmering just underneath the fake-boyfriend façade. 

Mac wanted her to see how he never wanted to be with anyone else when shit hit the fan. How their middle-of-the-night fridge meetings were the only thing holding him together sometimes. How he was brimming with pride every time she improvised, whether in the field or at home. How one of her smiles made all coherent thoughts vanish from his head. How he’d wanted to ravish her the moment she dragged him into that damn closet. How--

Petrov cleared his throat. 

Mac blinked slowly and slid his gaze to the mob boss, feigning surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had company. My apologies.” Riley’s eyes glittered like she knew just how not-sorry Mac was. 

He changed his mind. They weren’t just pools of darkness between stars. Those eyes contained the whole fucking universe. Black holes, galaxies, supernovas, and everything in between. 

He stalked toward her, trying to convey his plan with just his eyes. For a brief second, understanding flashed in her eyes before a cruel smile curled her lips--practically the first time all night they were on the same page. Mac revealed his relief for only a split second. He mouthed, Can I kiss you? Riley tilted her jaw, baring her neck to him. She didn’t need to utter a single word for him to understand. Make Petrov squirm, but don’t ruin my lipstick this time. 

It killed Mac to do this to her twice, but he didn’t have a better plan. He hadn’t touched her at all since the closet, as if that would ever make up for what he did. Now here he was, silently begging her to re-enact the closet scene. He didn’t know what that made him. A douchebag, most likely. 

Playing like this was like dangling their real feelings over a blazing inferno, hoping they didn’t do any irreversible damage. At least this time, Mac had Riley’s consent. If she said no, he would’ve found some other way to get under Petrov’s skin. 

Bracing his hands on Riley’s forearms, Mac pressed featherlight kisses to her neck. His thumb brushed a thin scar he didn’t know she had. Lingering traces of her perfume filled his nose, his lungs. He trailed his lips across her skin, searching for her pulse. Upon finding it, he pressed his lips firmly against her neck, reveling in the sensation of her blood roaring beneath his mouth. 

His blood roared alongside hers. This is just a game, he reminded himself. A power play to disarm Petrov. He nipped her skin, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue. Her breath hitched. Mac’s self-control hung by a thread. Riley was intoxicating, and getting drunk on her and losing his head would only land them in even more trouble. 

He pulled back. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to join me when you’re done here.” Mac winked. 

“If you want me against a wall, Damon, I’d much rather it be somewhere you can fuck me hard enough to make the paintings fall off.” 

Riley wore a mask of quiet, glittering amusement, but it was all Mac could do not to combust on the spot. He couldn’t believe she said that. He’d started this little game, and she always played to win, but...shit. 

This woman was going to bring him to his fucking knees. 

With as much bravado as he could muster, he replied, “We can do both.” Mac pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand before walking into the bathroom, closing the door, and taking the coldest shower of his life. 

*****

Petrov squirmed like a worm on a hook while he was forced to watch her and Mac’s little show. The way Mac had practically fucked her with his eyes made Riley want to squirm too. But, like, good squirming. Maybe even the kind that ended with her head thrown back and sheets clenched between her fingers. 

But, Danika Jackson didn’t squirm. Her heart didn’t feel like it was about to explode. She didn’t have to memorize every press of her man’s lips against her neck, because for her, this moment was real and would happen again. She needed to be Danika, who was calm and cunning, not Riley, whose heart was breaking, because this was just a game, and Mac meant none of it. 

That quick kiss on her hand nearly undid her. Petrov, thankfully, had been too busy staring at the floor to catch the cracks in her façade. She focused back on Petrov, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding and her brain wasn’t short circuiting. 

Riley stared at him, putting on a show of contemplating throwing him out right then and there so she could join Mac in the shower. It wasn’t hard. She was definitely thinking about it. 

Finally, she got back to the matter at hand. “As I was saying, I don’t appreciate you kidnapping my employee or trying to pull a fast one on someone clearly smarter than you.” She paused. “Why.” It was a command, not a question. 

Petrov glanced at Desi. “What has she told you about me?” He almost sounded nervous. A bit of Riley’s terror eased, but only a bit. You’ve got this, she reminded herself. 

“Everything. I know about the career that makes you happy, the career that pays the bills, and I know about your little black market spy collective, although I was surprised to learn your products aren’t as high quality as advertised.” Riley sneered. This was a gamble, she knew, showing her hand like this. She really hoped it paid off. 

Petrov snapped his head to Desi, looking vaguely horrified. “You knew about that?” Desi gave him a not-so-innocent shrug. 

Before he could say anything else, Riley continued. “Why is your collective watching me and my company, Mr. Petrov?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearly debating something in his head. “I wasn’t actually watching you at all,” he conceded. “I believe there is a mole in my operation, a spy.” 

Riley arched an eyebrow. “Interesting.” Behind him, Desi narrowed her eyes. 

“I made sure knowledge of the sale fell on select ears and waited to see which agency made an appearance. And sure enough, none other than my favorite spy shows up.” He smirked at Desi. 

“Ex-spy,” Riley corrected. “Although, I have been known to use her skills when I need information, or something done under the radar, if you catch my drift.” She knew what he was doing. Petrov made a calculated risk in revealing his potential mole problem. One slip-up on her part and he could easily connect the dots between his CIA mole and them. The best she could do now was convince him that she--and Desi--were just as shady and well-connected as him. “I assume you are responsible for the building being on lockdown?” 

“Can’t have my customers running away without paying, now can I?” She’d caught him off guard before, but he was back on his game now. Dammit. 

“Here’s the deal. You will call off your dogs and let us and everyone else leave the hotel, and in exchange I will return your locket and won’t expose you as a fraud.” He scoffed. “I am a woman of my word, Mr. Petrov.” 

“And if I don’t agree?” 

Her response was out of her mouth before Riley even knew what she was saying. “Then I will use my recording of this conversation to clone your voice and command your men to stand down myself before throwing your useless body out the window and taking bets on which direction your blood will spray when you splatter on the pavement.” Riley stared him down, swallowing her horror at her gruesome threat. She was pretty sure she was going to puke the second he was out of the room. 

“Very well,” he agreed, taken aback. Petrov cast a nervous glance in Desi’s direction. There was no pity in her smoldering eyes. None. 

Riley pulled the locket out of her bra and dangled it from her hand, waiting. Petrov took the hint and quickly made a phone call. “I have the locket. Stand down.” Satisfied, Riley handed him the locket in dismissal. 

She wasn’t going to say anything more, but the entitled way he raked his gaze up Desi’s body on his way out the door had Riley opening her mouth one more time, just to piss him off. “Good luck with your mole problem, Viktor.” 

The door shut, and seconds later a nod from Desi confirmed he’d walked down the hall and was out of earshot. 

Walking in on Mac be damned, Riley sprinted into the bathroom and hurled her guts into the toilet. 

[the-sweetest-dragon]

A Summer Like Never Before

A Summer Job AU - No Pennywise - Georgie is alive - Mostly tomfoolery - 

Fandom: It

Characters: Bev, Ben, Bill, Mike, Stan, Eddie, Richie

Word Count: 1112

Ships: Eventual Benverly, Reddie, and Stan x Patty

Warnings: Out of character behavior, allusions to abuse, mention of depression

AN: Hiya!  Been a bit, but I’m back!  I was in a car accident actually and took some time to recover, but I’m here to provide cutesy stuff with our favorite red-head!  Enjoy! (Also I listened to Fearless by Taylor Swift while writing this so uh it kinda goes with the story if ya wanna give it a listen)

tags: @nerdsarebetter @audder17 @just-another-shipper-01 @andykilldiot

Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

_______________________________________________

Chapter Ten

Bev is not used to dates going so smoothly.  Usually, there’s a lull in conversation, or an argument but that didn’t happen with Ben.  She realized how little she actually knew about her friend as he talked about his dreams of being an architect and building the next Empire State Building.  They talked for what felt like hours, all through dinner Ben went out his way to ask about her ideas, her plans for her future.  He asked to see pictures of designs she had come up with for their senior shirts and other projects she had planned.  Ben was excited to talk to her about anything and everything.  

“I really love the button detail on that dress… do you think you could make something like this… how’d you come up with this?!”  The compliments rained down around her and puddled at her feet.  In Ben’s eyes, everything she made was pure gold and deserved the attention.  His smile warmed Bev to the bone.  “You have a real gift Bev.”  She smiled and looked down at her napkin, suddenly bashful with the attention.  

Bev was not used to being the center of attention, she was no Richie who enjoyed being in the spotlight.  But having Ben ask her what she thought of a building he had drafted, and then asking what he could do to improve it, then writing her notes down, made Bev realize how much she had missed out on while dating Bill.

Bill is a good guy, and Bev had loved him for so long it felt odd to not feel connected to him anymore.  He had been good to her, he was handsome and popular.  He made her feel like she belonged.  But, as she grew up, Bev realized that she was starting to outgrow Bill.  She still loves him, and cares deeply about him, just not in the way that matters when you’re dating someone.  Bill was her first love, but the future he wanted for them was not one that Bev could stand.  He wanted a family and a wife that would love him without arguing about anything and everything.  That thought was terrifying to Bev.  

Beverly was not good with kids.  If she was being honest, they kind of freaked her out.  Small children cry just to cry.  The thought of being pregnant scared Bev to death; she couldn’t imagine her stomach becoming round and hard in front of her, like an overgrown tumor.  And then pushing something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a cantaloupe?  Bev couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain that would come with that.  Besides, she knew postpartum depression ran in her family, and Beverly refused to put anyone through what her mother had put her through.  Being ignored by your mother because she simply could not pull herself out of bed was not something Bev wished on any child.  

Bill hadn’t understood her need to live life out of Derry.  He saw no problem going to college and then coming right back to raise a family.  His entire life was here, and Bev couldn’t blame him for wanting the stability that came with living in your hometown.  Nothing bad had happened to him here.  He could never understand her need to get out, to live life before settling down and raising children.  Bill couldn’t wrap his brain around Bev not wanting kids, just like he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t go to college.  

Ben… Ben understood better than anyone in their group.  He wasn’t born here, he had seen parts of the U.S. that Bev had only dreamed of seeing.  As Ben described his college plans, Bev yearned to have his confidence in his plan and a part of her wanted to go with him.  He made it sound like such an adventure, and if she was with him, it would be.  Things with Ben were always an adventure, always interesting and entertaining.  Nothing about Ben bored Bev; he was always moving forward, changing.  He kept her on her toes and she loved it.  Ben was gentle and kind, while still being outspoken and outwardly confident.  He was everything she had ever dreamed of, and sitting right in front of her.

She must have slipped into a dreamy smile because Ben waved a napkin in front of her face.  He had a concerned look on his face, and it struck her again how handsome he had become.  How had she never noticed? Because you were too busy goggling at Bill, you idiot. 

“You okay?  Your eyes were starting to glaze over.”  He smiled and Bev’s heart fluttered.  That was new.  Bev straightened in her seat and took a sip of her water.

“I was deciding something.”  She gave him a crooked smile.  Ben raised a single eyebrow, a faint gleam in his hazel eyes.  

“Oh really?  And what were you deciding, if you don’t mind me asking?”  He leaned back in his seat slightly.  Bev was not used to this flirty Ben, but she also knew he was genuinely curious about what she was thinking.  He needed to be careful with that, or she’d fall faster than she expected.  Bev bit her lip, unsure on how to express her thoughts in a way that wouldn’t be weird or too forward.

“I think…,” she started.  Bev took a steadying breath.  “That I’d like to go with you.”  Bev looked back up at Ben, who had leaned forward in his chair again.  A soft smile spread across his face, though his eyes held confusion.  “Go with you to college that is, if you’d have me as a roommate.”  She held his gaze now, daring him to turn her down.  Ben just shook his head and laughed in that soft way of his.  Everything about Ben was soft.  Bev wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked and decided she’d have to find out later.

He reached across the table and held her hand lightly.  Absently, Bev realized his hands were rough, probably from working in the hardware store and building.  His thumb rubbed soft circles on the skin between her thumb and pointer finger.  Ben’s eyes searched her face, looking for any sign of her kidding.  

“I would love to have you with me but I don’t want to push you into anything too soon.  Or have you think-” Bev cuts him off with a kiss.  She’s not sure why she keeps interrupting him with kisses, it seems to be a trend she is creating for their relationship.  Bev smiled as she pulled away.

“Wherever you’re going, I’m going too, New Kid.” 

[cordytriestowrite]

The Night of the Living Dolls

Halloween One Shot

Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki helps you face your biggest fear

Your hands were shaking, no, quaking in fear. You could see them, restrained within the arms of your laughing friends as they took you unwillingly toward your doom. You couldn't breathe but with what little breath you were able to retrieve you were using it to beg, to plead, to practically sob and say anything that would get you out of this nightmare.

"Please, please Tony let me go. I can't do this." You babbled, looking to the captor on you left. The man was smiling like a giddy child, his eyes alight with glee at your misfortune. He ignored you and tugged harder on your arm, quickening his pace. You dug your feet in and tried the captor on your right.

"Clint you son of a bitch let me go. You can't do this to me. Please!" Clint only smirked and turned off his hearing aid, even with only one hand on you he still managed to drag you closer and closer to the house.

Night of the Living Dolls was printed in a cheesy, scary font on a banner hoisted just above the dark entrance to the haunted house. You could see from here the flashing lights just within the doorway. Outside roamed a few scare-actors dressed as baby dolls and ventriloquist dummies, getting close to the people in line with creepy smiles or snarls.

You hated dolls. Hated them with a passion. They had scared the shit out of you since you were a child, forced to sleep over at grandma's in what she literally called her doll room. Ancient porcelain dolls lined the walls and stared down at you with unblinking glass eyes as you tried to fall asleep, just waiting for your eyes to close long enough to pounce. It was a childhood fear you could not outgrow as you moved through adulthood, an irrational phobia that sent your body into a state of duress.

"Stop being a baby," Natasha called, her hair flipping over her shoulder as she turned back to smirk at you, "it's not real."

"You don't think I know that?" You were shrill with panic, your eyes wide and searching for anyone, anything, that could get you out of this. Your eyes landed on two tall figures just beyond the queue. They turned toward your ragtag group at the sound of your panicked shouts.

"Guys, please help. They're holding me hostage. I don't want to go in. Thor reason with them, please."

Thor raised a blond eyebrow in response, his eyes moving from you to Tony then to Clint and finally Natasha. His brows then furrowed in confusion.

"Do you not fight terrifying things every day? Are you not an Avenger? What could be so terrifying about a child's plaything?" Thor scoffed and you swore beyond your labored breathing you heard someone mutter something about midgardians. Your head turned to your final participant of the evening, the tall, slender, bored-looking brother of the man you once considered a friend.

"Loki, please, make them see reason."

You could see Loki's expression waiver for a moment to one of pity before resting back on indifference.

"Let the girl go this isn't an execution."

And it worked. Tony and Clint dropped your arms and you were free. You turned, ready to run despite the lightheadedness from all your shouting, but the hands on your shoulders pulled you back around and stalked you toward the ever-growing queue.

"You cannot run. You must face this foolish fear." Thor belted heartily. He guided you into the line and the rest followed behind with triumphant grins and high fives.

The wait was extending past everyone's enthusiasm. The line moved slowly as small groups were let in a couple minutes at a time. You had managed to escape Thor's hold and maneuver yourself to the back of the group, unnoticed over their laughter and energetic conversation. You knew if you ran they would then notice and probably torture you even further so you chose instead to make yourself as unseen and quiet as possible, taking deep breaths to calm your jittery nerves. It only worked up until the line moved a few steps forward, then the shiver of weary anticipation would start all over again.

Maybe you hadn't noticed him or maybe he had only just arrived by your side, but with the next shuffle forward you felt a soft hand touch your lower back and with a considerate pressure move you a few steps forward. The touch didn't send you into a panic, it felt comforting.

"Don't get yourself worked up. They can smell fear." A deep, velvety voice whispered into your ear. It was joking, that much you could gather, but whether he was talking about the dolls or your friends you could not discern. You nodded instead.

His hand remained on your lower back, delicately moving you along with each gap left by another disappearing group. You were within the confines of the property, fenced in by a creepy wrought iron fence covered in fake cobwebs. This is where the milling scare-actors were making their rounds. You whimpered reflexively. You could see one, a woman dressed as a Raggedy Ann doll, limping and craning her neck weirdly, like she was possessed. In her hand she held an overly large knife dripping with blood. You watched horrified as she got right up in the face of a man a few group ahead of you and licked the blade before cackling like a mad woman. You did not want her coming anywhere near you.

Of course your luck seemed to be tapped out for the day, because she made her way down the line straight for your group. You scooted closer in, wedging yourself up against Loki and doing your best to hide behind Thor's massive back and broad shoulders. Loki's hand moved from your back to your hip, holding you close to him. You heard the Raggedy Ann's high pitched eerie shriek and burrowed your head into Loki's shoulder, heart racing in terror.

Please don't notice me, please don't notice me. You chanted in your head. You didn't dare look up from Loki's shoulder, finding comfort in the slightly boney but muscular feature. He smelled fresh despite the humidity in the air.

She ambled past you, eyes unseeing the two huddled figures, and didn't stop for another round of fright until she was well beyond your sight. You sighed in relief and lifted your head. Your friends were back to chatting amongst themselves.

"Sorry," you said, pulling free of Loki's personal space but staying close enough to jump back in if need be, "I just really hate this."

He smiled. It was a small smile but it was genuine. You smiled back, wider than he did. That was the first time you had seen a smile on the god's face. He preferred a look of boredom or annoyance around you and the others.

The next time a scare-actor got too close you did not hesitate to cuddle close to Loki, his hand protectively resting on you hip each time.

"We're next." Tony sang causing everyone to turn toward you with expected looks laced with teasing and delight. The content feeling you felt in Loki's presence was zapped quickly from you and irritation took its place.

"I hate all of you." You exclaimed, your finger pointing in each of your friends' faces for good measure. Your finger, along with your glare, never fell on Loki who you deemed your new favorite person.

Your anxiety was back full force as the entrance to the haunted house loomed above you, its loud sound effects now reaching your ears along with the screams and giggles of patrons. You felt like throwing up. You wiped a cold sweat from your brow and swallowed the excess saliva building in your mouth. A cool, firm hand found your shaky, sweaty one and held it tightly. You looked away from the doorway and your eyes met those of calm, cool blue. Loki yet again offered you a small smile, a small, genuine smile and you found your urge to vomit recede.

"How many?" The creepy ventriloquist worker asked in a haunter drawl.

"Six" Clint said making a show of counting your heads.

"Four at a time." The worker said. Sounding less like he cared to be creepy.

"Three and three?" Natasha said.

"Or I can just step out?" You offered, a last ditch effort to get out of going through the house.

"That would still leave us with an extra person." Tony said, reaching for your arm to drag you into his group.

"You all go ahead. I will get her through." Loki's calm, deep voice called out. His annoyed look was back. Your hands were still clasped together but held just behind Loki's back so the others couldn't see. You were glad he didnt let go.

The others went in with little argument only because of the grumbles from the group directly behind you. You waited until Thor disappeared through the curtain and your connection to the group severed to face Loki fully, eyes wide in dread.

"Please don't make me go in there, Loki." You begged.

He smiled, wider than the last two times, making you feel warm all over. It was comforting despite the heat of the October air.

"Trust me, love. I'll get you through this."

"Next." The scare-actor moaned. Loki guided you toward the door and you resisted halfheartedly, the urge to trust Loki overcoming your urge to run.

He opened the curtain and you stepped though. The first room was enough to make you regret stepping foot near this place.

"Loki." Your voice warbled his name as you stared wide eyed at the slew of dolls nailed to the wall and hanging from the ceiling. His hands came to rest on your waist and you slid you palms onto his hands and squeezed harshly.

"Close your eyes." He whispered in your ear and you were more than willing to comply. Your eyes were shut so tight it almost caused a headache. Your ears were you only indication of the change. The haunting music, the screams, the laughs, all faded away to a calm, not so quiet silence.

"Now open" he whispered and you yet again obeyed easily, your trust in him making you willing to do anything he said without fear.

Where there was once a dank, dark, doll-filled space was a large open gold-guilded hall. You gaped as your eyes roamed every nook and cranny of the new location, in awe of its grand beauty.

"This is Asgard." Loki explained.

"Its beautiful." Was all you could think to say, your mind unable to compose a description worthy of your view. Loki nudged you forward down the hall and you wandered in the direction his hands guided you.

"Whenever I am lonely or scared," Loki began low in your ear as if speaking any louder would break the illusion, "I imagine my home and it makes everything better...for a little while."

You could only squeeze your fingers around his large hands still on your hips. Suddenly you knew speaking would break the spell Loki had cloaked the two of you in. Eventually the end of the hall grew closer. You looked back at Loki and he nodded in response to your unspoken question. You turned the knob and stepped through.

"You survived!" Clint exclaimed, pulling you into a congratulatory hug. You blinked twice at the sudden change of scenery and realized what Loki had done. He had gotten you through the house.

"I hope you learned to face your fear." Thor boomed, his arms crossed as if he won because you learned some sort of lesson. You nodded to appease him.

The group turned and made their way back to the parking lot talking and laughing and mostly ignoring you again. You slipped to the back of the group where Loki strolled leisurely, looking unamused with the evening. When your step fell in line with his the bored look lifted and he allowed you to see his wide smile. It made you swallow around your heart which was now lodged in your throat.

"Thank you." You said low enough that the others would not hear. For added measure you laced your hand back into his. He accepted the gesture with a gentle squeeze back. He simply nodded in return but the smile remained on his face and his hand remained in yours.

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Fly me to the Moon

[Previously…] [Next...] A/N: Usnavi is so turnt and Johan is seeing stars. (two more parts left!) Summary: Frank Sinatra, Fire escapes, late night chitchats over fine wine makes for a Johsnavi aesthetic WordCount: 3298 Taggies: @hell-yes-puns-and-ships The hum of cars still passing through the darken streets filled the already unsettled air. There was always a sound, a passing car, a distant siren, a train rolling past, dog barking, one could go on and on listing off disturbances in the city. But from the comfortable post of a fire escape about three stories high there wasn’t a sound that touched the moment between the two men. All Johan could hear was the deep and steady breathing between gulps of wine coming from Usnavi. He watched as the Dominican man tipped the bottle into his mouth taking a third chug. He placed the bottle down between them and ran a hand down his mouth wiping his wine stained goatee. “Gotta love summer in the city.” The night was cooler, nice August night breeze felt good on Usnavi’s flushed cheeks. It made the drunk in him feel less drunk. The breeze anchored him down to a reality and kept his mind from spinning. “It is quite nice…” Johan agreed, there was nothing in particular he cared for. Nothing he could pinpoint and say that was nice, but the moment felt nice. This felt...nice. He took the bottle and tilted his head back as well. After a long sip he sighed with gusto and pointed. “That a star?” He motioned to the white dot against the dark, opaque sky. It stood out so brilliantly like a certain someone’s laugh that suddenly filled the air. 

“Nah, man, that’s a plane.” Usnavi stared at the same dot and watched it move by. His eyes glanced over just barely catching Johan’s disappointed frown. The way his lower lip jutted out…”My abuela Claudia…” He began speaking in a tender voice, eyes closed for a moment. Grief still stung when he spoke her name out loud. “She use to complain how you couldn’t see the stars here...one night she swore she saw some…” It was near impossible to see stars in the city but Claudia saw the beauty in so many things everyone took for granted. Usnavi believed she saw her stars that night. 

“Did you see stars?” Johan’s frown curved up into a smile watching as Usnavi’s expressions changed so rapidly. Thanks to the wine no doubt. 

“I saw hella stars when she told me she won the lotto that night” He smirked, “And gave me ⅓ of it.” 

“Wow, really?” That was genuine surprise. Someone who won the lotto and got some money off it, why was Usnavi trapped at a corner store? “What happened to the money?” “Well…” Usnavi ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Abuela passed away the next day...that afternoon actually… with her share of the money I did the good she would have wanted to do. Gave some to Benny to help him out while he looked for a job, to the Rosarios to help them while they got Nina back to school. Helped Daniella so she could co-sign Vanessa’s apartment, and Carla for the salon. Gave some to the Piragua man who passes by here and--” “What’s...Pear-a-wah?” Johan tried to pronounce the words but they came out sounding like an alien language to Usnavi. “Oh...Piragua (PEE-AR-GOO-WHA)” He repeated slower just for him, Johan absorbed the sound and mouthed it to himself. Usnavi turned away feeling the heat from the wine stain his cheeks...of course just the wine. “It's shaved ice.” “Oh that’s neat.” 

“Yeah...gave everyone some money to help them out...even commissioned Sonny’s dumb boyfriend to paint some pieces for me...Everyone that abuela ever cared about...I know she’d want to help them even just a little.” Usnavi felt a hollow ache in his chest. Nothing he didn’t know how to manage. Johan looked back up at the bleak sky. The plane had long crossed the sky and left not a single shred of light. “Your ab..abuela sounds really nice. I would have loved to meet her.” “She would have loved you.” He answered immediately, no doubt about it. “She was a great judge of character. She would have loved you more than I…” His mouth suddenly felt try, he wanted to reach for the wine but he had to finish his sentence somehow. “Than I could even imagine.” Nice save by De La Vega. 

His tall Californian friend didn’t seem to notice, much to Usnavi’s approval, and nodded. “So what about the other thirds of the money?” 

“I put Sonny’s away in a savings account, hopefully he won’t do nothin’ stupid...he probably won��t. Sonny is a lot of things but he’s a good kid with a good head on his shoulders.” Usnavi couldn’t take any credit for that. Sonny was always a sweet kid who’s only real drive was to help his hood and more importantly the people in it. “Mine...I paid off the store debts, I own it now…” It felt good to own the store officially. “The rest I still got...sitting around... “ Though Benny might have been wry of Johan getting all this information about money...Usnavi didn’t feel an ounce of stress. He didn’t think Johan cared about the money. Another moment of silence feel on them. “Sounds like you have everything figured out…” Which was more than Johan ever had his whole life.

 “...well I spent my life making a list of goals and cross them off as they come along…sooner or later there won’t be anything left to cross out...I’m not looking forward for that.” Usnavi always thought he would be living his life according to his parents, work until he died. But after all that's happened, all the changes he was afraid his list wasn’t long enough to keep him going. He was terrified of the unknown.  

Both men went reaching for the bottle, looking away unsure what to say. Both had been internalizing their worries because neither wanted to ruin this moment. Their hands met at the neck of the bottle and with much delay, they turned, eyes on their brushing fingers. Johan slowly turned his hand, palm up, as if offering his hand to Usnavi. However, the action of his hand moving made the skittish Hispanic pull back fast. 

“...” Johan stared at his empty hand and sighed, he wrapped his fingers around the bottle and stared down at the drink. “Vanessa…” He began without thinking, his mind absently wondering if there was something between them. Johan noticed how they danced, laughed, smiled, history no doubt. Perhaps more than he imagined. Usnavi turned his head waiting for Johan to finish, all eyes on him now that he mentioned Vaness. No turning back now, “you and here seem close, after all you helped her out and stuff…” He sipped feeling absolutely idiotic for even mentioning that. Who cared? He shouldn’t have cared but his drunks words were slipping out of his mouth before his brain could edit. 

“Oh...yeah…” He smiled a bit, a sad tinge to his face. “Vanessa and I...we had a thing.” Johan knew it. Now with his confirmation Johan was no longer as happy, there was a small v shaped wrinkle forming between his furrowed brows. “But I ended it.” Usnavi looked out at the street. Johan’s face eased, he looked over at Usnavi and felt guilty for bringing it up. He looked heartbroken. “I mean, I had to, after our second date I realized we…” He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on the top of his knees. “She’s on her way, making big strides, the world is in her eyes...she’s outgrown the barrio and sooner or later she’d outgrow me. I saved us the trouble of her feeling like I was holding her back.” He’d never forgive himself if he kept Vanessa from going as far as she wanted. “I’m a streetlight stuck to my island.” 

Shame washed over Usnavi’s face. “I envy you.” Johan spoke softly. “I mean...you know where you belong. You know you belong here and this is home. Me? I’ve been moving around looking for somewhere to settle. Every time I get close something...something in me changes and I’m back on my feet.” Johan slowly started to open up and once he did the drunk floodgates overflowed. “My parents were not conventional. They were hippies who thought home was anywhere they could make a canopy in. I never had a home like this, people I’ve known all my life, a neighborhood. It's been my parents, my sister and whatever ratty creature wandered into my sleeping bag that night.” Johan laughed bitterly at the memories of his strange upbringing. Yes, they had their charming quirky moments but he wondered if perhaps… they made him the way he was. 

“Hey…” Usnavi smiled weakly, he had ruined the mood. As always he never knew who to socialize normally. Damn, what would he give to be the life of the party. “Hippie parents sound cool.” 

“If you think being biracial during the 80s is ‘cool’ having parents who were hippies were even ‘cooler’” Johan’s voice was lined with sarcasm. Bitter, bitter sarcasm. “There was bullying, trouble fitting in, I learned fast to just put myself above everyone. If they made fun of me, just brush it off...then as soon as high school was over I ran. Kept moving.” “So what made you come back?” “ … Sister, Family…” He shrugged a bit, “I look at my sister and realize how normal she managed to build her life...normal within her capacity but normal enough. House, kids, husband. Stable and it looks nice.” Johan thought he wanted that too but once he started to get comfortable the itch to leave again would hit. Something would scare him back out and it was back to another country. 

“It’s nice. Take it from me...knowing no matter how far you go there is a home waiting for you..” Usnavi never thought of looking at his life like that. He could go anywhere and know his home, his island, was still in the back of his mind waiting for him. “You’ll find a reason to settle down...it's only a matter of time.”

 “Settling down sounds so boring at the same time...it sounds so...typical. Are people really meant to be settled with one other person? For their lifetime? Isn’t that a commercial ideal put out by hallmark consumerism looking to make a quick buck on heart throb moments that don’t even last...then funnel capitalism in the divorce business when it all goes to shit?” Johan rolled his eyes, the idea of being dedicated to someone sounded more like prisoner. 

Usnavi chuckled a bit. He began to find Johan’s weird rambles adorable. He could listen to him blab for hours even if he had no clue what he was going on about. Johan joined in with Usnavi’s chuckling and laughed lightly. “Shame, Daniela was looking at you like she wanted to snatch you up.” “Oh, is that so?” Johan arched his eyebrow and snickered a bit more. “Shame she’s not my type.” 

“You have a type?” He rolled his eyes, “Lemme guess Cali-girl?” “Ooo far from it.” Johan shook his head, “try again.” “European? Thats gross I heard they don’t shave their pits, asco!” He wrinkled his nose, he was being somewhat serious. 

Johan only laughed harder. “That is a terrible stereotype.” Johan shook his head, “My type is a less of a type and more of a combination of traits.” “Anja, so like a build your own girlfriend.” “Or boyfriend.” He answered without skipping a beat. Too bad Usnavi’s heart skipped three. “My type is someone...different. Someone who makes me feel different but normal. All my life has been an adventure with no one to share it with. Someone who can make any place feel like…” He turned his head a little realizing Usnavi had been staring at Johan this whole time. “Home.” 

Usnavi clutched the wine to his chest, his eyes glued on Johan’s. They were half lidded, puppy like eyes. The way the light hit his eye was like a star breaking through a dark sky. Johan had stars in his reflective eyes, Usnavi was getting lost in them ...that was until he saw his own reflection in his eyes. Scrappy, scraggy, withered, tired, anxious storekeeper with nothing going for him other than a debt free living and a bank account that wasn’t dismal. What chance in hell did he have with Johan...why did he even want a chance? Even if Usnavi humored the idea he was interested in men, why someone like Johan? He was basically like Vanessa, a restless, traveling soul who was going to take on the world. A constant changing variable to Usnavi’s permanent constant.

 He broke the gaze first, looking down with a sigh. “It's late.” Silence, this time it hung heavy...it was unsettling now. 

A car came by and parked in front of the building. The door opened as the driver walked out to have a smoke. His radio, somewhat low, carried the music up to the boys on the fire escape. A tune, Johan had recently recognized. “Sinatra.” He smiled a bit, Usnavi arching his eyebrow. “Sinatra is playing.” 

“Huh…” Usnavi closed his eyes and focused on the low, retro tune. “You’re right. My parents, when they first came to this country, were nuts about him.” 

“He’s got a way of making things sound snazzy” Johan started to snap a bit, “Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on A-Jupiter or Mars” He sang in time with the low music. “In other words, hold my hand.” He offered his hand to Usnavi. Melting in the moment of being somewhat serenaded he placed his hand in Johan’s large hand. Johan clasped it tight and pulled Usnavi a bit closer, “In other words, baby, kiss me.” He purred and Usnavi’s mind fried.  Would he? 

Johan could almost smelled his nerves and pulled Usnavi’s hand to his lips and placed the softest kiss on the back of his hand. Usnavi would have run for the hills but he was frozen to his spot here. The music kept playing for a while and Johan hummed along. His hand still holding Usnavi’s. It felt...right. Usnavi wasn’t sure what this was, this ease that glossed over his near constant anxiousness. He for the first time in a long time felt like the store didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered, what mattered was how warm he felt. How nice it felt having someone’s strong hand hold his with so much security. This fire escape could collapse right now, which was possible given the decades of rust he collected, and he felt safe. He felt like…

Usnavi whispered to himself, ”Fireworks…” He blushed a bit as the music came to its crescendo end and Johan finished belting out the last few lyrics. “Fill my heart with song! And let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore. In other words!” He smiled brightly at Usnavi, the reflection in his eyes didn’t seem so bad. Usnavi didn’t look tired, he looked...alive. “In other words” Usnavi sang back at Johan to his surprise. “In other words!” Johan leaned in a bit, raising his voice to the starless, night sky. “I love youuuuuuu!” They dragged out the last line together. Usnavi’s heart was a wreck, even if it was just in a song, he barely heard those three words from anyone. Family or friends. He leaned back in laughter, his hand squeezing Johan’s as he let out peels of carefree giggles. “Fags.” The driver got back in his car having watched them the whole time, unimpressed. The car took off but not before Usnavi got to his feet and leaned against the fire escape. “Say it to my face maldito hijo de puta!” He spat, growling at the car as he drove off. “Like he hasn’t seen two guys enjoying a goddamn song.” Usnavi flipped off the night and turned to Johan’s side. 

He sat a bit closer, automatically putting his hand back in Johan’s. Where, without questioning it, Johan took it back and held it. “It is getting late...I better head back to the hotel before my sister decides to call the police.” Johan sighed. “You can stay, I can take the policia.” Usnavi was riding the high of his machismo bravado.

“Seeing how things are these days, I rather you not.” He squeezed Usnavi’s hand, melting away his agitated testosterone. “I’ll call a cab.” Johan pulled out his phone with is free hand but Usnavi shook his head. 

“I got you.” Usnavi pulled out his phone instead and dialed a number. He spoke Spanish into the phone and in a matter of minutes a black car came by and parked in front of the apartment. “Some of the other taxi drivers that worked for the Rosarios picked up another company, I call in favors once or twice. You won’t have to pay.” “Aw...Usnavi you shouldn’t have.” Johan said his name again and just like the first time, his heart sputtered like a stalling car. “Thanks for inviting me.” He slowly released his hand, his fingers aching. 

Usnavi looked down at his hand and nodded, “I wanted to see you again.” And again, and again. 

“I won’t be in New York for too long. I’m glad I got to see you tonight. I had fun, dancing with you was...a trip.” “Was that a joke about how we almost tripped because I’m a lot better at dancing when I’m not drunk.” Usnavi smirked, he watched as Johan hesitantly went to the fire escape ladder and held onto the bars. “Text me when you get to your hotel safe.” Usnavi leaned over the ladder, looking down at Johan. Strange, the man was tall so Usnavi didn’t think he’d have a chance to look down at him. 

“Will do.” Johan looked up at Usnavi, his eyes still glistening. “Adios.” “Adios.” Usnavi repeated with a nod. He watched his special guest scale down the ladder, muffling a laugh when he tripped over the last bar and nearly fell on his ass. Johan turned around making sure that Usnavi hadn’t seen that. They exchanged parting glances and soon Johan was in the car and driving away. 

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet. Johan was pretty tipsy, his mind spinning now. He replayed the last few moments with Usnavi. The sound of his laugh, holding his hand, the smile, the look in his eyes...all to that Frank Sinatra song. “In other words…” He hummed to himself. 

Johan barely remembered getting to the hotel. He didn’t remember remember the elevator trip or what his sister said when she saw him come in, smiling like there was no tomorrow. The last thing he remembered before he drifted into a drunk induce sleep was texting Usnavi. 

/Johan: I’m home, safe and sound. 

Usnavi: Good, now I can sleep easy. 

Johan: Were you going to stay up thinking about me? 

Usnavi: I don’t think I can stop thinking about you. /

Johan closed his eyes unsure what to say. What he knew was it made him smile, he held his phone to his chest. His heart pounding against his ribs, he was being thought of... His phone buzzed again, he opened one eye and realized Usnavi had messaged him again. And again /Usnavi: sorry thatwasweird. And it buzzed again. 

Usnavi: I don’t know...like...I’m not like this!

Usnavi: seriously I don’t know why I said that /

Johan quickly responded before Usnavi worried himself to death.

/Johan: I don’t think I’ll get that song out of my head tonight or any night. Goodnight Usnavi /

/Usnavi: Gnight. /

“Crap” He sighed, putting his phone aside. He hug the pillow to his chest as a nervous smile slowly made it's way across his face. “I /do/ like him” He buried his face into the pillow and felt the rush of blood stain his face.