#i got home to eat while i did paperwork & stopped mid bite to go drive to that place

[emdotcom]

My tags expired 2 months ago. I finally got around to it because a family member gave me a deadline, saying "Get it done. Today."

That was yesterday.

So, I go to fill out the paperwork, after work, & realized I need my VIN. I'm tired after my shift & don't want to go down to get the number, so I set an alarm for 4 hours later, thinking I can wake up & get the thing done in 5-15mins.

I put in my info, & the website can't find my state inspection. See, 3 months ago, I dropped off my car & asked for my oil to be changed, my tires to be rotated, & my state inspection to be run. The shop did not do one of those three things. Yup -- they didn't actually do the inspection. So, I call them to ask what's up, & am put on hold for about 5 minutes before I hang up -- they close in 25 minutes. I don't have time to get that inspection done before they close, & I need my car to get to work.

So, I drive to a place I've never been before that closes an hour later. There is no indoor part. My car's AC has not worked the entire time I've had it. We are in Texas. I boil outside for 40 minutes before they ask me to pull my car in, & ask me for my insurance paperwork. I figured they would ask this, so I checked that the envelope was in my glove box, & it was. I pull it out & hand it to the mechanic, & they point out that it's out of date. I have the wrong paperwork.

Snap back 4 months ago, when I was unsure if I was renewing the car's insurance. (it is under somebody else's name, & I am very thankful, but it means I am out of the loop.) During that time, I get insurance at another place that charges me a fuckton for the crime of being under 26. The original insurance is renewed, & I am paying 2 insurances for 3 months. The owner of the original insurance finally gets back to me, tells me the insurance is being kept & gives me the papers. I call & cancel my second insurance, & it went out last month. At the same time, I am shredding my old insurance info, including what I think is last year's papers for the original insurance.

I was wrong. It was the new set. I shredded the new paperwork.

So. I don't have my papers. The mechanic asks if I have a copy on my phone. If I still had the second insurance, I could have pulled that up, but it went out a month ago, & I do not have the original insurance on my phone, so I don't have the digitital papers, either. I cannot get inspected. I go home.

I make a plan to go get my car checked today, then get the papers & bring them to the shop later, because the mechanics open right after my shift, but the insurance place opens 2 hours later.

Today, I get in my car.

The check engine light turns on.

[doubleleoenergy]

iv. Lolita, Lolita Series

Hey Lolita, hey! Hey Lolita, hey! I know what the boys want, I'm not gonna play.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, oral (female receiving), pet names, dirty talk

Words: 2240

Summary: Andy’s falling at y/n’s feet, just like all the other boys before.

Six days. It had been six agonizing days since their encounter at the club, and Andy Barber was losing his cool. The nightly, and sometimes midday, jerkoff sessions weren’t quite enough to satisfy his hunger.

Things with y/n had been the same, as if their little blowjob fest hadn’t happened. They continued to carpool to the office, continued to be friendly back at home, and y/n continued to tease him as always. She’d wear her tight and barely there clothing around the house and the office and had even started walking around in her towel after her showers. Andy didn’t mind the view, and neither did the boys, stuttering and stammering at the sight of her. But again, it wasn’t enough. 

That morning y/n greeted him with another breakfast and coffee before work, donning a black long sleeve crop top with a slit across to give him the view of just a bit of cleavage. Her light denim jeans were practically painted on her body, her perky ass bouncing with each step in her black strappy heels.

“You look good, y/n. As always.” Andy commented, taking a sip of his coffee. He thought a bit of flirting might help his case of getting closer to his little Lolita, though she didn’t seem phased by the compliment.

“Thanks Andy, we should get going. I’m shadowing you with your clients today, remember?” Her internship had been stellar, learning valuable information about the field and her future career. The only problem occasionally was Neal, who tended to linger too long at her desk and always stared down her shirt as he talked. Normally she would put the man in her place, but it offered a good source of jealousy from Andy, which she couldn’t pass up.

Their ride to the office was filled with conversation as Andy briefed her on their clients for the day, y/n taking notes in her notebook of all the critical details. Though she probably wouldn’t need the notes, she had read over the client’s files for the past two days in anticipation.

Y/N sashayed down the hall in front of Andy to his office, and he watched her ass the entire time she moved, trying not to pop a boner before the workday even started. After arriving at the office door and unlocking it, the two got comfortable for their first client of the day.

“Are you nervous?” Andy questioned, eyes focusing intently on her.

“Of course not. I’m just eager to please.” Her tone was heavy with seduction, lips curving into a huge smile when Andy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

By the time they had finished up with their clients for the day it was nine o’clock, a much later day at the office for them since y/n had started her internship. The two were both starving since lunch, stomachs growling as they headed home for the evening.

“Jacob said he and the boys are going to see a midnight movie showing after the bar, won’t be back till late.” Y/N announced, fingers typing out a quick reply to Jacob.

“Alright, are you interested in going out for some food? I think it’s way too late to start cooking something. We can go to that Mexican restaurant up the street from the house if you want.” Andy suggested, glancing over at y/n as he parked the car in the driveway.

“That’s fine, let me go change really quick and then we can go.” Y/N walked straight through the garage doors and up into her room, getting herself refreshed for dinner. Andy decided to change as well, pulling on a pair of dark denim jeans and a grey Henley long-sleeved shirt that accentuated his muscles. He was honestly hoping that y/n might consider this a date but given how she seemed to avoid any movement in their relationship, it seemed unlikely.

Andy scrolled through his email on his cell phone, leaning against the kitchen counter as she walked down the stairs. His eyes met hers before traveling down to the tight burgundy floral mini dress, the thin spaghetti straps barely holding in her braless breasts as they poked out slightly above the fabric. Andy’s eyes continued lower to the slit in the dress, staring at where the slit hit mid-thigh and ended right at her hip bone. Was she not wearing any underwear?

“Okay, I’m ready.” Y/N’s black stilettos clicked against the hardwood as she made her way towards the door, headed towards his car once again. Andy trailed behind, his eyes roaming over her backside while his cock stirred in his jeans.

The restaurant was less than a mile from the house, a quick drive for them both, which was a relief considering how hungry they both were. The waitress came up shortly after they sat, a young perky blonde who seemed to be a little extra attentive to Andy, though he didn’t pay any attention to her. He was too busy watching y/n scanning the menu, chewing her bottom lip as she figured out what to eat.

“I’ll have a Coors Light and a southwest salad, please.” Y/N’s voice was soft as she spoke to the waitress.

“I’ll have a Coors as well with the street taco trio. Thank you.” Andy handed over their menus before returning his attention back to y/n. “Did you like sitting in on the meetings today?” He asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Definitely, it’s nice to fully see the process at work. Usually I’m filing the paperwork after a meeting, but today gave me the chance to start from the initial meeting to the filing.” The waitress arrived with their drinks as she finished her sentence, taking a long swig from her beer.

“I’m glad. We make a good team, don’t you think?” Andy had to admit, she was the most impressive intern they’d had since he started there. But the question isn’t just about work, hinting at the possibility of them together.

“We’re alright.” She responded, shrugging her shoulders. Andy sighed, six days of waiting to figure out anything between them was torture, just like the mind games she was playing with him now. His thoughts are briefly interrupted by the arrival of their meal, using the break in their conversation to consider his next words carefully. It was like he was building a case as he had done hundreds of times at work, though this case was a bit higher stake for him.

“Look, in the club I know I said we couldn’t do this...do us.” Good start, Andy-boy. “But we’re both adults as you said. It’s not weird, unless we make it weird, and if we keep things private for a while so as not to hurt Jacob...why don’t we give it a try? Us, I mean.”

Y/N chewed thoughtfully on her meal, listening to his case and reflecting on his words. “I’m not a relationship girl, you know that.” The thought of being in a committed relationship with anyone terrified her, a trigger from her family trauma. What happens if Andy is kind at first, but later turns into a monster like her father? Would she really want to end up like her mom? No thank you.

“I do know that, but I also know that there’s something between us, y/n. You can’t deny that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have done what you had.” Andy retorted, taking a bite of his tacos.

“Everything I do is because I want to do it.” She declared, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. “A relationship is different, Andy. Why tie yourself down to someone? It’s not like it ever lasts, you should know that firsthand.” She’s referring to his divorce, the thought that Andy even wanted to be committed to someone else after that was confusing.

“Maybe that’s true, or maybe we’re just waiting for the right person to change our minds.” He’s leaning on the table now, his eyes locked on hers to gauge her reactions.

Y/N’s eyebrow raises at his response, her head tilting to the side. “And you’re trying to say that I’m that right person?” Her eyes roll back into her head, straightening her body and digging back into her meal. “You’re thinking a little too highly after one hookup.”

Andy knows they’re going in circles with the conversation and so he drops it, finishing up their meals in silence and not protesting when y/n asks to split the bill. Definitely not a date.

The ride back to the house is uncomfortably silent, y/n playing Candy Crush on her phone to distract herself from any further talk about a relationship. Y/N is about to go up the stairs to her room when they arrive, but Andy stops her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back over to him.

“What are you doing?” She asks, brows furrowed as her eyes meet his blue hues. Andy tugs her closer by her waist in response to her question, lips hovering inches away.

“Think about it, we’d be good together, you can’t deny that.” And with that Andy is leaning in, pressing his lips passionately against y/n’s own. Without any hesitation y/n reciprocates the kiss, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer, if that was even possible.

Their lips dance together in the perfect rhythm for a moment before Andy breaks the kiss to pepper wet kisses to the flesh on y/n’s neck. She rolls her head to one side to give him better access, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck when he nibbles on a sensitive spot. She lets him continue for a moment before pushing him gently off her, confusing laced across his face.

Y/N’s heels click against the hardwood as she starts walking down the hallway towards his bedroom door, stopping right in front of it and looking back at Andy, a cocky grin spreading across her swollen lips.

“I think it’s time you return the favor from the other night.” And with that she slips into his bedroom, Andy following quickly on her heels and shutting the door behind them. He watches, eyes blown wide, as she saunters over to the bed, sitting right on the edge of it. She leans her body back, her weight against her elbows, opening her legs to reveal her bare core, her heels firmly placed on the floor in front of the bed for balance.

“Don’t just stand there and stare, Andy. Get to work.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, practically crawling across the room, his knees hitting the soft carpet a foot away from her outstretched legs. His strong hands move from her knees up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her stomach to reveal her wet heat to him.

It was glistening like diamonds, just as beautiful as the rest of her body. He rests his hands on each of her inner thighs, pushing her legs slightly wider and locking his eyes with hers as he leans forward and licks a strip up her slit. His first taste of her is incredible, better than he could’ve imagined, and he wastes no time on diving in further, lapping at her core.

Andy’s beard tickles her pussy as he works his tongue into her, sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers instinctively grab at his hair, her grip tightening whenever he lapped at a spot that made her moan. She kept her eyes on him the entire time, loving the way he looked between her legs. She could get used to this.

Andy moved his head back, his pointer and middle finger rubbing against her wet folds before they dive in, curling deep and releasing a satisfied moan from her lips. “Your pussy is so pretty, so wet and delicious. My little Lolita.” There goes the pet name from the other night, though it was quite fitting for her.

His fingers find a good rhythm inside her, eliciting the prettiest moans from her lips. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, though he knows right now it is all about her pleasure. He can tell her orgasm is building, moving his face back to suck at her clit while his fingers keep their pace in and out of her dripping core.

Her walls start to tighten, y/n seeing stars as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach, tightening her grip on his hair. Andy’s eyes lock back on hers, a seductive smirk spreading across his lips.

“Let go, Lolita. Cum for me.” And just like that her orgasm rips through her, her walls tightening around his fingers as she pushes his face flush against her folds, allowing him to lap up her release.

She’s shaking by the time he pulls away, his beard covered in her slick, the sight alone giving her a sense of pride and ownership over him.

“That was incredible.” Y/N announces, adjusting her dress and standing back up, stepping towards the door of the bedroom. Andy’s jaw drops, his cock twitching as she walks away. “Where are you going? I’m hard as a rock right now.”

Y/N stops to look at him, her eyes trailing to the bulge in his jeans, shrugging her shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to jerk off to your fantasies of me as always.” And with that she opens the door and exits the bedroom, leaving Andy kneeling with frustration against the carpet.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx ​

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.09

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2145

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean stops to pump gas after approximately an hour — she wouldn’t know exactly, time is a fucking construct nowadays — and goes into the store while she waits by the motorcycle. Y/N leaves her helmet on, just to be extra safe.

He comes out after a couple of minutes, and only then does she dare take her helmet off. She places it on the seat. 

Dean still looks at her like she’s something fragile, which, given the circumstances, she maybe is. He hands her a chocolate bar. It’s dark chocolate, not really her favorite.

“Eat it. It’ll help calm you down.”

She can’t help but smirk at that, thinks it’s cute how he cares, but then realizes that he’s only doing his job. Which is her. And then she thought that Dean really did her too, she grins a little because she thinks she’s funny, which is really not the right time to be right now.

Y/N’s his job. Period. Because that’s what she is to him, isn’t she? Only a job and an added burden with them getting shot at. 

Looking down, she nods and unwraps the chocolate, but before she can take a bite out of it, Dean pushes his fingers below her chin, tilts her head up to look at him, “Hey, everything alright?”

How can she tell him that everything’s not al-fucking-right? That her life’s a fucking mess and that she’s slowly but surely falling for someone who only sees her as a job? How can she tell that she’s scared shitless and that she won’t ever be able to fall asleep again without hearing bullets flying against the wall and into her home?

Instead of telling him all that, though, she nods, “Yeah, just never been in a shootout before.”

“It’s been a while for me either,” He huffs out a tired chuckle. 

That’s right. He’s been deployed, has probably had a fair share of being shot at. She never asked him what he did, not that she doesn’t want to. It’s more that it doesn’t really matter to her who he was or what he did. What matters is that he’s here when she needs him the most.

There are scars, though. She’s seen them, even if the light was dim. She also felt them underneath the pad of her fingers.

Dean sighs before his hand comes up and he lets his thumb brush over her chin, thumbs at the corner of her lips and the crease between his eyebrows grow. Apparently, she’s a terrible liar.

He leans closer and speaks in his soothing husky voice, “I got you, okay? I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

She nods teary eyed, “Promise?” She wants to believe him. 

Dean smiles. It’s wide and white, there are crinkles around his eyes, “Cross my heart.”

Leaning down, he steals a kiss, his lips are warm and soothing. 

He waits for her to finish the chocolate bar so they can drive to wherever he takes her. She doesn’t really ask him anymore where they’re going, because she had made the choice and at this point, she’d follow him anywhere.

 *

 After about what felt like another hour's drive, they arrived at another safe house, hidden by another forest. The sun’s slowly coming up, there’s a hazy glow and the ground condenses, little patches of fog rise up.

If it wasn’t for her being on the run, she'd say that it’s beautiful here, that it’s picturesque and maybe if there are other circumstances surrounding her being here, she might even be able to enjoy it. But she swears, she’s already a little sick of the damn trees. 

Dean halts his bike and waits for her to get off before he gets off it himself, and walks around to take the bags, places them on the ground. He then wordlessly wheels his bike behind the cabin.

She hears plastic, some leaves rattling. Didn’t dare to go look or follow him. She’s just too tired too and she stands there, waiting for him with her arms wrapped around herself. The mornings are cool and the effect of too little sleep makes her shiver to her bones.

About five minutes later — could be longer too, she wouldn’t know — Dean comes back, rubbing and brushing his hands against each other, a satisfying smirk decorating his face.

He comes to stand before her, towering over her, as he rubs at her arms and pulls her into a warm embrace, “You okay?”

She manages to nod, her teeth are already chattering together.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside before you freeze to death,” Dean places his warm lips on her forehead, before he picks up the bags from the ground, takes her hand to walk to the front of the cabin.

On the porch, Dean walks to the far right side, kneels down and opens a little trap door to take out a box. Inside of the box, he finds keys to the cabin.

They step inside and she takes in her surroundings. Everything looks almost the same as the previous cabin, only a little more modern, cozier, too. The sofa is bigger, the TV is the same as in the previous cabin, though.

“You want anything to drink? Or food?” His voice jerks her back to reality. 

“No,” She says warily, “Thanks, I’m good.”

“The bedroom’s over there,” Dean jerks his head to the adjacent room while he walks into the kitchen to drop off things he bought at the store, “Go to bed, get some rest.”

She nods and makes her way to the bedroom with her  backpack in hand. The bed’s bigger here. Could easily fit the both of them without her having to move too much out of the way. Not that she thinks he’s going to stay in the bedroom with her, though. She doesn’t really know where they stand after last night. Didn’t dare to ask because there are more important things right now. For example trying not to get killed.

Dropping her backpack into the closet, she takes off her jacket and shimmies out of her pants, climbs into bed, and covers herself with the blanket. She lies there on her side. Exhausted but not tired enough to fall asleep yet. 

Dean walks in after a while, a mug of coffee in his hand. He slowly moves over, as if he wants to see if she’s sleeping yet and when he sees that she isn’t, he sits on the bed, on the side where she’s curled up, and places the mug on the bedside table. 

“I don’t want coffee, thank you.” She mumbles.

“Who said it was for you?” He chuckles while his hand comes up to stroke at her head, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, “You should try to get some sleep, I’ll be in the living room, doing some paperwork.”

Y/N looks at him, her eyelids feel heavy, “Can you stay close?” She didn’t want to come across as needy but it’s hard because right now, that’s all she is. She wants him close, wants to know that he’s here to protect her.

“Of course,” There’s a warm smile on his face. It came out too quick. Like he didn’t even need to think about it at all, “I’ll just get my laptop.”

Dean takes the mug and walks out, only to return with the laptop in his other hand. He takes off his shoes and gets into bed, too, sits with his back to the headboard and she turns herself the other way, curls up next to him. 

He strokes her hair back, “Sleep, okay?”

She nods, her eyes are already closing.

*

Y/N wakes to something heavy draped over her body. 

The sun is bright in the sky, she guesses that it’s mid afternoon. Not that the time of day matters, since recently, one day blends into another fucked up day.

She blinks the sleep out of her eyes before she looks down on herself, sees the source of the thing that crushes her.

The heavy thing is Dean’s arm. 

He’s sleeping soundly, one hand protectively draped over her. She stirs a little and that was already enough to wake him. God, he’s such a light sleeper. So jumpy all the time.

Dean lifts his head alarmed and looks around, but soon lets it fall back onto the pillow and closes his eyes again when he sees that it’s her.

“I thought you were going to be working?” She says teasingly.

He squints one eye open, his voice is raspy and full of sleep when he speaks, “You looked so peaceful, and then you started to talk in your sleep.”

“I did?” Her cheeks feel warm, and she’s a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, you trashed around and called out my name. I had to hold you down and then I couldn’t resist falling asleep either.”

Y/N blushes. She called out his name? She wishes the bed would open up and swallow her whole.

Dean hand goes under the blanket, finds her waist, and pulls her closer into him. He kisses her forehead, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t resist you. No matter how professional I try to keep things between us, I fail, because one look at you and my walls come crashing down.”

Her heart beats ridiculously fast upon hearing him say those words. Just when she opens her mouth to say something. Opens them up to tell him that it’s okay, that she welcomes it when he isn’t going all bodyguard on her. That she feels the same and wouldn’t want him to go back to being professional— his phone rings.

He tilts his body, reaches for it blindly, his hands search on the nightstand and when he finds it and looks at the caller ID, he frowns a little. Dean holds it out, shows it to her.

Chuck.

Dean picks up and puts Chuck on speaker. She knows that it’s also his way of reassuring her that he isn’t behind any of Chuck’s plans. 

“Hello?” Dean’s voice is still raspy and he clears his throat.

“Mr. Winchester, I didn’t get a text this morning and am worried!”

Chuck sounds weird, his voice is a little higher than usual. But she can’t miss the annoyance in it.

Dean places the phone between them, turns to brace himself on his elbow, “Yeah, uh, I’m sorry, sir. Everything’s fine. We are alright. I was out at the store because we were running out of food.”

There’s a long awkward pause until Chuck talks again, “Okay,” 

“I don’t have to remind you that you should be careful, do I?”

“No, sir.”

She can see the tense in Dean’s shoulder. And really, who is he to tell Dean how to act? Chuck crosses the line but that’s so typical. 

“Good,”

“Do you have any news for us?” Dean asks and looks at her. 

“News? Uh.. no, there’s still none. You stay put.”

“Of course,”

“Report back to me, Mr. Winchester.”

Chuck hangs up before Dean could say anything. And he didn’t ask about her once. 

“Wow,” She huffs out hot air, “Do you think he knows?”

Dean rolls on his stomach towards her, pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks at her and chuckles, “You mean about us?”

Us. 

She tries not to get too excited at the mention.

Y/N groans and rolls her eyes, “Duh,”

“No, and he doesn’t seem to care about you one bit anyway,” Dean says and she knows that he’s right.

Dean gnaws on his bottom lip, his face deep in thoughts. He’s thinking of something and she thinks she knows what bothers him.

“You think he knows about the shooting,” She states as a matter of fact.

He breathes out, pinches at the bridge of his nose, “There’s something fishy about it, yeah.” He leans down, kisses her gently, “And I absolutely hate how he treats you.”

Before she can say anything, Dean pushes himself up on his knees, runs a hand through his hair, “I mean, he usually doesn’t even care if I miss on some texts. Why care now? He also never calls. Good thing he doesn’t know that we changed our house yet. I’d like to keep it a secret for a little while longer.”

Getting off the bed, he reaches under the blanket, and searches for her legs. When he finds them, he pulls at them with one swift motion, making her shift down until her feet are dangling off the edge.

He inspects her calf, “We need to change the bandage.” And then with the next breath he says, “Come on, let's fix you up and find something to eat before I eat you up.”

Well, she can’t say that she would mind if he does.

CH.10

[besidemethewholedamntime]

Hello again! ♥ I saw that video with the borking pup (so adorable!!) and thought if you are up for a prompt, could you maybe write a fic where Fitzsimmons adopt/rescue a puppy?? Some sort of stress relief for both of them :) thank you! ♥

here is it finally for you! I hope you like it and it’s everything you want - if it’s not okay please let me know and I’ll write something else!

(Okay, I know the start seems angsty but I promise it’s fluffy Fitzsimmons with a dog, I just find beginnings hard!)

—

Introducing Biscuit

(Read it here on Ao3) 

They haven’t been in their new house long when shebrings it up.

It’s quite a sudden longing, perhaps something to dowith just how empty their new houseappears to be with its seemingly endless corridors and bedrooms that theyaren’t quite ready to fill. It’s a longing that keeps her up at night, stomachaching with something that feels like ungratefulness. The guilt eats her alive,keeps her awake into the wee hours of the morning. How can this not be enough?How can simply being here, with Fitz, not be enough for her?

And maybe it’s because she got that glimpse atmotherhood, got a slither of what she could have in the future, that means shewill no longer be satisfied at anything other than that anymore. But theyaren’t ready, not yet. Too much has happened to simply let them dive into theidyllic quaint country life they have penned in for some date in the future.They agreed to take things in steps, and step one was quite simply just movingin.

That was over a month ago, now, and, ever restless,Jemma feels ready to take another one. Which is why, on one sunny as Scotlandcan be June morning, she awakes earlier than normal and makes breakfast beforecarrying it to Fitz in bed.

“Jemma?” He groans when she gently shakes him awakeHis hair is sticking out at odd angles and there are pillow marks on one sideof his face, clearly the mark of a good night’s sleep. Rubbing his eyes, hesits up. “What’s this for?” He narrows his eyes. “What do you want?”

“What? Me? Why would I want anything? Don’t beridiculous. Can’t a wife just make her husband breakfast in bed to be nice?”

Fitz narrows his eyes even more. “Maybe other wives can, but you certainly don’t. Notwithout good reason anyway.”

She gently angles the plate closer to him, hoping thescent of pancakes will distract him. “I’m just being nice. Celebrating the factthat we can have breakfast in bed without the possibility of the world endingin the next five minutes.”

Perhaps that was too low of her to go, because hiseyes soften and he places a hand over hers and oh there’s a familiar sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Themood was meant to be light but now it’s like the clouds have blocked the sunand she’s done with living in the dark.

Coughing, and then smiling, Jemma says, “Well,actually, there was something…”

“Bloody knew it.” Fitz’s triumphant grin parts the cloudsonce more.

Ignoring him, she continues, “How would you feel aboutgetting a dog?”

He looks at her curiously, as if he can’t decide ifshe’s serious or not. “As in a pet or as in one for you to ‘dissect’ for‘science’.” He actually adds in the air quotes, his cheeky grin suggesting he’swaiting for her to bite.

She doesn’t and sighs, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, Fitz,of course I mean a pet.”

“Just making sure. Remember the last time we had a‘pet’.”

“For the last time: it was delivered to the lab likethat!”

“Sure it was, Jemma. Sure it was.”

Throwing her hands up at the age-old argument, shefixes him with a withering look. “We did not kill the cat, Fitz.” A deep breathand a smile. “But anyway, back to the question. How would you feel aboutgetting a dog as a pet?”

“I think that would be a great idea. I’ve alwayswanted a dog, and we’ve definitely got the space for it.” Fitz makes histhinking face whilst chewing on a pancake. “Puppy or rescue?”

“Rescue,” Jemma answers immediately. “I mean it seemsthe right thing to do, doesn’t it?”

He smiles that soft smile that appears to be reservedonly for her. “Absolutely.”

-x-

They spend the hour and a half drive to DogsTrustarguing about what type of dog they’d like to get.

Jemma, balancing several folders on her knee, argues,“I’m just saying I don’t think we necessarily have size limitations if we takeinto account the size of the house, and the land we have is ample enough forexercise.”

Fitz takes his eyes from the road long enough to giveher a look of disbelief. “And all I’m saying is that we have to think of thecosts involved for a larger dog.”

“The adoption fee is £120 regardless of the size ofdog.”

“Yeah, I know that. I meant bigger dog means morefood, bigger bed, some kennels make you pay more for a larger dog. I mean whatif we wanted to go on holiday.”

“We’d figure it out, Fitz.”

He shoots her a short, worried glance. “Well thatdoesn’t sound like the Jemma Simmons I know.”

“Jemma FitzSimmons,actually,” she corrects, ignoring his actual statement.

The thing is, she did construct a cost analysis basedon each potential type of dog they could adopt. She looked at the spreadsheetsand compared them to all of her research on owning a dog and then never lookedat them again. It was one thing to be prepared, it was another thing to try andfit the dog they didn’t even own yet into her own preconceived idea of what itmight be like.

And with all of this starting over, maybe it’s time totry being someone new.

All of a sudden, they’re here and as Jemma looks atthe bright yellow sign and the unassuming building, she feels a nervoustightening in her gut.

Fitz parks up and reaches over to hold her hand.They’ve been in some truly frightening life or death scenarios, and yet this,this level of commitment that they’ve only ever had for each other, seems moreterrifying than anything.

“Well, Jemma Fitzsimmons, let’s go get a dog.”

-x-

“And this is Biscuit,” the volunteer announces,stopping in front of the last glass-fronted kennel in the row.

Jemma doesn’t see her at first, curled as she isamongst the blankets in her bed. When she notices people outside her kennel,she uncurls and runs up towards the door, tail wagging getting progressively fasteruntil it’s really just a white blur.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Fitz smiles, kneeling down on thefloor and talking nonsense to the dog who laps it up.

Jemma has to agree, Biscuit is very adorable. The signon her kennel door proclaims that she’s a Jack Russel and that she’s a year oldand that she likes sleeping and treats and dislikes loud noises. She’scompletely white expect for her ears which are a caramel colour, making themlook as though they’ve been stuck on. Jemma can’t help it, she laughs out loud.

Fitz turns around from his spot on the floor, asseemingly happy as the dog he’s been chatting up.  It’s been a while since Jemma’s seen him thishappy, this seemingly carefree. Biscuit has done more for him in two minutesthan she’s been able to do in a month and Jemma’s not even jealous. In fact,she’s rather relieved.

“Biscuit’s taken quite a shine to you there, Mr Fitz,”the volunteer laughs. “Can I assume that you’re both about to ask me to signsome paperwork?”

Jemma brings out her folder from her handbag. There’squestions in here, questions that she thought she needed to have answered toknow that whatever dog would be the right fit for them. She thought she’d needto know why the dog was given up, what were the pervious owners like, how werethey fed, did they like a certain type of lead to be walked on or a certainbowl to eat from. She thought she’d need to know everything in order to helprescue a dog that would become part of their family.

She was wrong. She doesn’t need to know anything of thekind. All she needs to know can be seen in the brightness of Fitz’s smile, thejoy in his voice as he calls Biscuit a smart girl.

Slowly, Jemma slides the folder back into her bag andsmiles to the volunteer.

“Yes, I think that was exactly what I was about todo.”

-x-

They’re sittingin the living room after dinner, mindlessly watching television in a way that’sbecome quite enjoyable. Jemma is researching how to take care of Jack RusselTerriers, and Fitz is doodling designs for a dog crate that’s sturdy butportable.

“Should we change her name?”

Jemma, not really paying attention because she’sengrossed in this article on positive reinforcement training, asks, “Changewhose name?”

“Biscuit’s name. Should we change it?”

She looks up from her laptop and over to Fitz whosepen is paused in mid-air as if the thought has just burst into his brain. Hisexpression of confusion, she imagines, mirrors hers.

“Oh, I don’t know. I know you can change a dog’s nameand it’s relatively easy.”

“Yeah,” he muses, “thought that. I know you can do it,just don’t know if we should.”

This all seems to be getting very deep for a talkabout whether or not to change the name of their new dog. Jemma cocks her headand opens and closes her mouth a few times, doing a remarkable impression of agoldfish. What does she say in this situation? What does she do?

To her utter relief Fitz laughs. “Relax, Jemma. It’sjust about the dog. I promise.”

Ohthank goodness but she doesn’t say that aloud, onlysmiles. “Well, about the dog. I don’t know, I suppose I quite like the nameBiscuit. It’s rather cute, I think.”

“Yeah, it suits her, doesn’t it? And it’s a food. Ilove food.”

Jemma snorts. “You certainly love biscuits.”

“Oh, did you get those Hobnobs ‘cause they were onoffer at Tesco and-”

The odd tangent makes her laugh because it’s so randomand so expected at the same time. “Yes, Fitz. I got you Hobnobs. Both types.”

“You’re the best.” But then his eyes take on that faraway look. “Biscuit Fitzsimmons.” He grins at her. “What do you think?”

There’s a relief deep down in her heart that surelyjust can’t be because their new addition is going to be named after one of hisfavourite foods. “It sounds absolutely perfect.”

-x-

Two weeks after their first visit, and after a homevisit and registering with a vet, finally they are able to pick up their latestaddition.

While Jemma is paying, they bring out Biscuit who runsto Fitz as if she’s seeing her best-friend after an age. Or she tries to run to Fitz – the volunteer hasher on the standard DogsTrust harness and lead and it prohibits Biscuit fromrunning to Fitz as fast as she clearly would have liked.

“Biscuit, heel.” The volunteer commands in a clippedtone and the dog begrudgingly returns to her side. The woman gives Biscuit atreat and then smiles at the both of them. “You’re the Fitzsimmonses here forBiscuit, right?” The dog barks as in agreement and the volunteer laughs.“Clearly I didn’t even need to ask the two of you; this girl’s already made upher mind who she’s going home with.”

“She has that,” Fitz affirms. “So that’s it then? Wecan just take her home now?”

“Yup, you can. Here’s a bag of her stuff from her oldhome, along with things she’s managed to acquire here.” The volunteer handsthem a carrier bag. “You have your folder, right?”

“Yup,” Jemma says, holding out the adoption folder shewas given. “We need to give these details to her new vet.”

“That’s right.” The volunteer hands the lead to Fitz.“Well I suppose it’s time to say goodbye then, girl, isn’t it?” She rubs Biscuit’shead affectionately and then smiles at them once more. “Enjoy your new dog! Anyproblems and please phone us if you have any issues at all.” She glances towhere Fitz has picked up Biscuit who is now licking his face. “Though I feellike you’ll be absolutely fine.”

Jemma thanks her and turns to her husband and her dog,feeling rather like a third wheel on their private moment.

“Well then, I suppose it’s time to go home.”

Biscuit’s ears perk up and Jemma laughs.

“Yes, you’re coming home with us.” She rubs Biscuit’shead and the dog begins to lick her hand in a way that seems to suggest she’seager for Jemma to know that she’s loved too.

The volunteer appears to be right so far. Absolutelyfine.

-x-

The first night cannot exactly be described as ‘absolutelyfine’.

As eager to come home with them as she was, Biscuitappears to have acquired some ‘leaving kennel’ anxiety.

Jemma knew about this. She read about this andprepared for it by setting up Biscuit’s crate in the living room with the TV onlow volume so the poor puppy wouldn’t be in total silence in her first nightalone. She knew that the dog might whine and cry. It just doesn’t make it anyeasier to listen too.

It’s two in the morning and they’re both awake, bothcompletely not enjoying the howls of poor little Biscuit coming up fromdownstairs.

“Jemma,” Fitz whispers, “are you awake?”

“Yes,” she whispers back. “It’s such a shame; I wishthere was something we could do.”

“Are you sure we couldn’t…?”

“You know we can’t, Fitz. All of the websites wereclear on this,” she says, putting to rest once again a question that’s alreadypopped up three times in the period since they’ve left Biscuit on her own.

“I know but she sounds so sad.”

“It’s better for her in the long run.” Jemma wonderswho she’s trying to convince here.

Eventually, she falls asleep, more out of sheerexhaustion than any immunity against the pitiful cries. But a few hours laterthey awaken her again. Fitz is sleeping beside her, clearly having succumbed tosleep the same way as her.

As stealthily as possible, she swings out of bed andtiptoes downstairs. Biscuit, hearing a noise, ramps up the howling.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s just me,” Jemma soothes,coming into the room. Biscuit is at the door of her crate, tail wagging madly atthe familiar person. When Jemma opens the door, she rushes at her, nuzzlinginto her and making soft noises.

“Oh dear, what a state you’ve gotten yourself into,”Jemma murmurs, feeling the dog quiver beneath her fingers. She sighs, knowingthere’s really only one option for the night.

“Fine,” she relents. “Come on. You can come and sleepin our room. But only for tonight.”

And gathering the dog in her arms, along with some ofher blankets from the kennel, she brings her upstairs and arranges her on ablanket and pillows on the floor at the foot of their bed.

“I’m sorry but I do draw the line at you sleeping onthe bed.”

Finally, Jemma is able to have a blissful sleepunaccompanied by a soundtrack of cries.

In the morning she awakes to a strange weight in themiddle of her and Fitz and finds Biscuit curled up asleep with one of her blankets,snoring softly.

-x-

This little dog in such a short space of time becomes everythingto them.

The house never feels empty, not anymore, becauseBiscuit loves exploring almost everywhere she can get into. She loves toexplore the surrounding fields, is especially a fan of the river that bisectsthe woods nearby. It turns out she loves the rain (which is just as well,really, because this is Perth and it’s wet even on sunny days) and jumps inmuddy puddles whenever she can.

But this little dog makes Fitz smile more carefreethan he has in years, He laughs with her, plays fetch and looks back to Jemmaas bright as the sun. This little dog brings out a side in him that she had fearedhad been lost to him forever. A side she thinks he was afraid he’d lostforever.

Biscuit is by all intents and purposes a ‘rescue dog’.All of her records now say that she is. Except Jemma knows that it wasn’t them whorescued Biscuit.

As she launches aball across a field and watches as Fitz races the dog to retrieve it, she knowswithout a doubt that it was really Biscuit who rescued them.