#i guess you can see how many people follow a tag when you loon for it

[patchesbeanie]

how many people actually follow tags? not just sometimes searching for them but actually following

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch.5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: DEAR JESUS FINALLY HOLY SHIT this too way too long. I’ve been super busy and getting sick a lot these past few weeks. This chapter is a little lackluster but something is really better than nothing. I hope this is good enough in any case! Have a good read! Love you!

Summary:  At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, violence, alcohol, possible genitalia mentions, alcohol, not much else I think?

Word count: 6000+

Tags!: @lennysvmmers @zoilalove213 @eccentricc-catt

Choose Your Words Wisely 

“When do you think we’ll head into town?” You readjusted the strap of your mask attached to your belt loops.

“Why you askin’ me? I ain’t your keeper.”

“I mean, you sorta are. I don’t have a horse and Dutch said he ‘doesn’t want me getting lost’. I don’t wanna annoy you, but we’ve been here for like, a week, and done absolutely nothing.” He sighed at your comment, somewhat in agreement.

“Uncle was sayin’ somethin’ about headin’ out, but I haven’t seen that bastard in hours.” Arthur complained through slightly gritted teeth as he hefted a bag of feed over his shoulder. “If ya find him and see if he’s ready, I wouldn’t mind goin’, We’re running out of coffee anyway…” You stopped following him.

“Got it, I’ll see where he’s hiding.” You pivoted to the side and walked towards the main camp area. Bill was prodding the fire in boredom. “Hey Bill, do you know where Uncle is at?”

“Prob’ly asleep or drunk, the old loon.” He croaked.

“Well, I figured that much.” That was usually what Uncle seemed to be doing. You weren’t one to judge, but he was a recluse one for sure. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen the Reverend in a few days…where’s he at?

“I know Charles and Javier got tired of waiting for him, so they just went out a few hours ago.”

“Okay, thanks, Bill.” You don’t talk to Bill that much, he just didn’t seem to enjoy your company for some reason, or anyone’s company for that matter. You kept looking around, trying to figure out where he could be. If I was sleeping off a hangover, where would I be?

“James! My boy! Come here for a moment, would ya?” A deep, modulated voice called out from somewhere behind you. You turned and saw Dutch standing in front of his tent. You didn’t respond vocally, you’ve found you don’t need to. As long as you’re visually enacting the request, he took that as answer enough. Dutch was a watchful man. You took a few steps toward him and you noticed Molly wasn’t around. She was usually hanging out in here. Actually, I’ve never seen Molly NOT in here.

“What’s up, Dutch?”

“Come inside, young man. Have a seat.” He placed his palm on the space between your shoulder blades and guided you inside the fabricated enclosure. Dutch had the biggest space of the group, which always bothered you in a weird way. Everyone except him, Arthur, and you slept on the ground. He moved you towards a chair, which you took a seat in out of politeness. You were starting to get nervous. Dutch had never really wanted to speak one on one with you before, much less take this approach to starting a conversation.

“What’s this about?” You tried to keep your voice as neutral as possible. He stayed standing, even pacing slowly across the floor about two feet away from you. The cuffs of his white shirt had a few rust colored stains.

“Nothin’ but a few questions, my friend.” It was subtle, but you could tell he was trying to take on a slightly intimidating presence. It wasn’t malicious or anything like that, which only made you more curious. “I’d like to know what you’re still doin’ here.” That statement took you aback.

“I’m confused, what do you me-“

“Why are you still here?” He cut you off. You took a moment to consider his question, there was a reason he wasn’t letting you get an explanation. The severity and weight of your potential answer only reflected in the sunken depths of his pupils. He looked exhausted.

“Because you’ve allowed me to.”  

“Ah, I see…” He stopped all his movements and bent down slightly to get a closer look at you. His hand rested against the back of the chair you were sitting. “I wanna trust you, my boy. You saved my life up on that mountain, I won’t soon forget that. Do you know what my family is about, West?”

“Living.”

“That’s right. Now, what are you about, James?” For a moment, Dutch’s face wasn’t his anymore. His hair was longer, light brown, his face was slim with a messy stubble. It was Austin.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

“What?”

“You’re safe, you’re all patched up, why haven’t you left me yet?” His eyes looked much kinder back then. So did his smile.

“Because…I don’t want to? You saved me.”

“People save people all the time and don’t follow them across a state.” He took a step closer. “What’s your deal? What do you want?”

“I…” You couldn’t be entirely sure, but you felt it. “I want the world to be better… I want the world to let me survive. I want to live!”

“Good answer.” You could almost audibly pick up the voice shift from Austin to Dutch. It took you a moment to process the fact that you had answered his question. “Sorry I took on that rather rude tone. Had to test ya, ma boy!” He laughed heartily, his earlier façade melting away.

“What was that about?”

“I wanted to see if you were up for a bit of a request.”

“A request?” His smile warmed at your question.

“Well, Hosea and I have been talkin’. You’ve been a mighty fine help around here and, well, we ourselves are headin’ out west in search of land of our own. So, we wanted to ask if you’d stick around with us until you made it back home.” You weren’t sure why the gesture surprised you, in a way you had already been integrated into their lives, they treated you as one of their own. But it still left you stunned. “Hosea says you aren’t sure if you’ll ever see your friends again, but I promise we will do everything in our power to keep you safe until then. What d’ya say, son?”

“It’d be an honor…” Your response was what astonished you the most. You felt it in your gut, a sense of comradery. Dutch patted your left shoulder, signaling for you to stand.

“That’s a good man right there!” He walked you outside the tent. “Just remember one thing, my friend.” He turned you around to give you one last bit of aid. “Do good to us, and we’ll do good to you. You seem like a nice one, but it never hurts to remind.” You instinctively walked away but his words rang in your mind. Do good to us, and we’ll do to you, huh? Charles warning would come into question every once in a while. The only person to know your secrete was Hosea.

If anyone else found out, they might tell Dutch. And if Dutch finds out, then so will Micah. At this point the only reason you still kept your secret was to save your hide. If Micah was really as much of a bastard as you’d been led to believe, if he got his hands on some information of that magnitude, you’d be dead in the next hour. You sighed with your head rolled back toward the sky. How could things keep getting more complicated?

Shockingly, time skipping wasn’t as strange of a concept anymore. You may not have done much research on it, but Gina sure had. She was a big-time nerd. If you really had jumped backwards 120 years, there was nothing you could directly do to change it. But, one thing you did know was that the universe, if having the capability to do this, would eventually find a way to put you back. A trigger was what pulled to get you here, and at some point, the space of time would have to set you back with another trigger. That trigger was certainly your previous death, but there was no telling if this new trigger would be the same. And let’s just say, dying wasn’t exactly an easy risk to take here. All you can do is bide your time and hope it comes soon.

“Found him!” You heard Arthur holler from the side, followed by the grumble of the old man getting to his feet. You guided yourself to the two by the cart, Arthur standing around with his hands on his hips looking like a scolding mother.

“That’s a rather odd place to nap, Uncle.” You pointed out.

“Welp, you know what I say? A man who can sleep on any surface, has the peace of mind to be doin’ so.” He dusted off the back of his pants.

“Interesting…” You supposed he was right, in both senses that could be interpreted. “Are you ready to head to town?” You asked the both of them but only Uncle responded.

“Yep, I gotta head down to the general store to get some supplies. Was you wanting to tag along?” Before you could respond, a familiar feminine voice bubbled behind you.

“Can we come too?” It was Karen with Tilly and Mary-Beth in tow.

“We been cooped up here for far too long! We need some fun!” Mary-Beth said in her almost song-like tone.

“Well, can Miss Grimshaw spare you?” Upon Arthur asking that, they all groaned in disdain.

“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you? Come on, Arthur! Three young, healthy women want you to take ‘em out robbin’ and you’re worried about house chores!” Karen argued while Tilly crossed her arms and shot Arthur her signature annoyed eyebrow raise.

“When you’re right, you’re right, I guess. Everyone hop on.” Arthur and Uncle took the lead and got in the front seat, Arthur at the reins.

“Wait, did you see if Sadie wanted to go? She said she’s been itchin’ to get out for a bit.” You asked while Karen climbed into the back.

“I asked her, but Ol’Pearson was there saying she had too much work to do. We’ll get her next time.” Tilly assured you. A twinge of disappointment flared in your chest, but you reluctantly followed the ladies into the cart and sat next to Karen. Arthur didn’t waste time to get a move on. You saw John being passed by the cart, on guard duty. You hadn’t gotten many chances to talk to him, but it was good to see him on his feet. Apparently, he had gotten attacked by wolves while you were unconscious, which was crazy. The whole camp was out of sight no more than a minute later. They really picked a good spot, huh? The cart makes small clunk and crunch noises when rolling over the dry soil path.

“So…James?” Karen smirked dubiously.

“Yes?” You rested your elbows on your knees, leaning forward. Which you soon realized was a mistake, because now Tilly and Mary-Beth are leaning in close and Karen is hovering just above.

“What’s it like in California?” They all actually seemed interested in what you had to say, making you feel both nervous and comforted.

“Well…It’s hot, most of the time. Uh…we get a lot of fires, and they can’t be dealt with fast enough. Earthquakes, those happen. But there’s beaches! Those can be fun on the right kind of day.”

“What kind of day is that?” Mary-Beth followed.

“Let’s see…” You thought for a moment on how to describe it. “It really just depends, I guess. Some days the beach is good for having some good fun. Messin’ around and all that. But if you go in the evening, it’s a lot less hectic and more serene. People like it for different reasons.” You lost your train of thought for a moment. Miguel liked the beach, particularly in the wake of twilight. The sounds always brought comfort for him, the lull of the sea. You were pretty sure he had mentioned at some point that his dad used to work down by the beach before he died. The sound of something snapping and the curse of a man brought you out of your haze.

Arthur slowed the cart and you noticed another person’s carriage or whatever was sitting still, and a white horse was running off to the other side of the road. You were quick to slide down the long seat and hop out the back. Your boots hit the dirt with a quick thud. Arthur had the cart in a near stop, his eyes following you as you moved yourself around to where the man was. For the brief second that you caught it, there was a conflict behind his eyes.

“Are you gonna help him, Arthur?” Karen verbally jostled. He seemed to chose a side, opting to follow you.

“Do you need any help, sir?” You questioned the older man who was tightening the straps on the horse still attached. He looked frustrated but thankfully relieved that you offered.

“Would you please go get my horse? He ran off over there.” He pointed out toward the base of a hill with some trees where the white horse you noticed before was shifting around frantically. Arthur surveyed the situation.

“Alright, I’ll go to the front, try to get ‘em to calm down. You ease your way over from the side and get his reins, lead ‘em over.” He scratched at his beard, which saw was shorter since you started paying attention. “Got it?”

“Got it.” He moved first, you going diagonally behind him. His steps were slow, methodical. It was always strange to see him act so gentle. Maybe you were just being nosey or over-analyzing him, but Arthur always seemed like he put on a tough guy persona. His demeanor went through shifts that you recognized easily, they were the same for you. The way his posture softened, his voice soothed, his eyes rounding down at the bottom. You’d only caught it a few times, and you wondered if anyone else ever paid enough attention to notice that. You could just be projecting, or acting way too creepy. Either way, it was just something you caught on to.

“Easy…” His voice mulled, accent rolling gently. “Easy there…” The horse was still fidgeting but at least it wasn’t running around anymore. “That’s it…” You inched closer to the animal staring down at Arthur with big, black eyes. The grass squished under your soles but was near silent to everyone else. Until you heard a small snap. You’d stepped on a twig. The attention of both sets of eyes was on you now. The horse shifted to its back hooves, letting out a fearful wail. You threw your hands up and froze.

“Woah there!” You exclaimed, knowing if you did this wrong you could easily get trampled. “Hiya…” You kept your voice delicate, which you weren’t exactly worried about in the moment. The horse breathed heavily and twitched through its snout. You lowered your posture, seeming less offensive. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared…” You inched a little closer to test the waters. Though the creature seemed to still be on edge, it appeared to be unphased by your new closeness. You kept going, until you felt the sharp breaths against your cheek. “You’re alright, buddy.” Your fingertips met the smooth fur of the horse’s neck, petting it reassuringly. It accepted your touch, and let Arthur take hold of its reins.

“You uh…” Arthur turns away from you, beginning to walk as you continue to sooth the horse. You were unable to gauge his expression. “You did really good with- with all that.” He let out a fake cough in the middle of that sentence. “You have experience with horses? I’ve seen you ride, not very well but still.”

“Eh, a little. Not very much.”

“Well, you got mighty lucky then, boy.” He remarked.

“Woooooo! Nice job you two!” You heard Tilly call, followed by the assured chants of the other two women. Arthur surrendered the leather straps to the older man.

“Thank ya, good sirs. You’ve done a good deed today.” The old man smiled approvingly.

“I just did it to impress the women, no thanks needed.” Sure, you did, Arthur.

“It was no trouble. Have safe travels, mister.” You waved him off as you changed your direction back to the cart, joining the ladies once more. Everyone waited until you all were out of earshot of the man and back on track to Valentine.

“That was real kind of you boys.” Mary-Beth grinned with a dreamy tone.

“See, Arthur? You got a heart! Unlike this old lizard.” Karen pointed up at Uncle.

“Lizards have hearts!” He remarked with offense.

“Honestly, if you three prob’ly hadn’t been there, I’da prob’ly robbed him.” Arthur corrected. All three of the women rolled their eyes.

“And I didn’t know you were so gentle, James. Not with the stories I’ve heard.” Mary-Beth was clearly trying to lead you in, and in that she had succeeded.

“What stories?”

“Micah talkin’ out of his ass. Normal stuff.” Karen reassured you.

“He’s got a brother out in California, says he’s heard of your little posse.” Tilly explains. “Says you were traded off to the O’Driscolls. Probably with us to try and get your friends back.”

“Pardon my French, but that’s horseshit.” You cut to the chase. It didn’t seem that any of them believed Micah’s lies, but they clearly wanted to hear your input. “Micah doesn’t know a damn thing about me, or my family. It’s literally not possible.” You felt yourself instinctually grip the mask bound to your hip. You took a deep breath through the nose. “I don’t know what his problem is with me. I haven’t done anything to him.” Tilly noticed the tenseness in your hand and appeared to make a mental note of it.

“Micah’s a bit like an infection. Likes to get under your skin and make ya sick.” Mary-Beth spoke knowingly.

“He’s hard to look at too.” Karen chortled. Arthur did his usual half laugh, half grunt.

“I’m surprised none y’all invited Molly with this kind of talk. Only person that hates that bastard more than me is prob’ly her.”

“Oh no, Miss O’Shea is far too high and mighty for the likes of us. She’s a society lady now.” You recognized the tone Karen held as contempt with a hint of mockery. The stench of a barn suddenly hit your nostrils.

“That’s sheep alright!” You cough from the sudden shock.

“You a city boy, James?” Uncle questions.

“Can’t really be much of city boy if I don’t live anywhere, huh?”

“Fair enough.”

The cart rounded the corner, exposing semi-busy streets. Everything was a little dirty, but not in a rundown sort of way. Women were wearing long dresses and skirts, most with their hair covered. And near the same could be said for the men except with pants, not skirts. The cart pulled down the main street and turned into a small clearing between what looked like a big stables and a small building still under construction. You sighed, rubbing your temples. Why does this shit gotta happen to me? The Great Depression has arrived early, I fucking guess. You pushed the knowledge you’d had for a while into the back of your mind and got out of the cart to help the girls down.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the general store and get some things. Arthur, James, you come with me.” Uncle instructed.

“We’re gonna see what trouble we can stir up. There’s bound to be some dumbasses around here. Just imagine we’re in Paris, girls.” Karen lead the women back down the street and you followed behind Arthur. You heard fragments of his conversation with Uncle. Something about Uncle being called the ‘one-shot kid’ back when he was younger and him being Arthur’s third favorite parasite. You were still reeling a bit, so you mostly zoned out. Focusing was always harder when you were having your tenth existential crisis this month. The trip was fairly quick. You only saw Arthur pick up some coffee grounds and a chocolate bar. I didn’t peg him for a sweet-tooth. Uncle got a bottle of something, that’s all you ended up noticing. You opted to just buy some food and had enough money to buy an extra pair of pants. You were tired of wearing the same pants every single day. Even if you were used to it, you happily took the chance to have a spare pair and finally be able to wash the other ones.

After that whole point of your trip was over, you sat beside Arthur on the bench outside, deciding not to drink anymore after tasting how strong the booze really were. At least one of you should be fully sober for this trip. Designated Driver for a real one. One Drink Y/N, they call me. You rested the side of your foot against your knee and leaned back against the wall, getting comfortable.

“Y’know what you outta get? A hat.” Arthur suggested.

“A hat? Why?”

“You look young when yer not wearin’ one. That’s why most people think yer a kid.”

“Really? That’s why? That’s really stupid.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe so, but it’s true. We should pick you up one sometime soon.” I’m gonna look like an idiot. Arthur and Uncle shared another swig while you rhythmically tapped at the beak on your mask. The two men continued on with a conversation, mostly consisting of Arthur being annoyed, while you sat in silence. An eerie sensation crawled up the left side of your face. Glancing around, it didn’t take long to notice the cause. A black hat quickly retreating behind a wall. You turned your head to the right, pretending to search for something near the Hotel.

You felt it again.

You were being watched. They were either spying or trying to examine you. You tapped the side of Arthur’s knee with the back of your hand to get his attention.

“Hey Rabid Man, I’m gonna go take a look around. I’ll be right back.”

“Ya sound like you’re tryna ask for permission.” He raised a brow, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“Nah, just lettin’ you know. There’s a black hat I need to check out.” You over enunciated the phrase black hat. “Because it seems to be taking a heavy interest in me.” He seemed to at least partially catch your drift. You stood up with a walking step, longer strides than you’re used to. You saw a staircase on the side of the hotel when you first parked.

Passing by the butcher and cutting around his stand, you took a confident gallop up the stairs. You’re meant to be here, this is like second nature. The wood creaked softly beneath you before rounding the white and blue painted corner. Your sight grazed over the area you saw the hat duck away to. Prepare for trouble and make it double, I guess. You ducked down behind a crate and peeked out the side.

There were two men, one walking over to the other. What are you doing out here? Besides being creepy, I mean. The one who had been watching you was pointing back towards Arthur and Uncle, he seemed to be interested in the little group. He was blond under the hat, the other guy looked grey with a bald spot. You assumed they were discussing the men sitting at the bench by how hush-hush they acted. Not that you’d be able to hear them from this distance, you could just tell by their demeanor. You could smell the suspicion from a mile away.

For a moment you debated what you should do. If they were willing to spy, who’s to say they won’t try and follow your tracks? You and Arthur would get blamed for sure. If they’re O’Driscolls, then that’s only add acid to the rain. You didn’t need any more issues than you already had. They were definitely packing, they might try to start something if you provoke them. How do I go about this? You certainly weren’t gonna take the chance of them following, which meant you’d have to be careful. Intimidate, but be smart about it, make them paranoid, make them nervous to not let it escalate.

With that choice in your mind, you quietly trotted down the steps once more. Once on the ground again you locked eyes with Arthur. You gestured over to the direction of the men and held up the number 2 on your fingers. He nodded in recognition. You pointed to your eyes, then to where the men are, and finally pressing your pointer finger to your lips. Watch. Them. Quietly. You turned and walked away, going around the backside of the hotel.

The blond one was now leaning up against a tree with the almost bald one pacing around. You interlaced the hook of your thumb into the front beltloop of your pants, walking with a bold impression in your step. The nervous one noticed your approach first and kicked the shin of the nonchalant blond to get him to do the same. You decided to take a friendly disposition initially, letting a smile spread across your face. You stopped a few feet in front of them.

“Hiya there, fellas. I don’t suppose I could ask y’all a few questions?” You slipped into the accent you and Javier used in conversation.

“We ain’t got no answers for no Van der Linde meater!” The blond hacked and spit at the ground in your direction. What the hell is a meater? “Now scram like the pigeon-livered fool ya are.” You kept eye-contact with him the entire time, not budging.

“Now, I’m just tryna be civil here, boys. And let me tell ya, my civility is a privilege, not a right.” You took a step forward, now only a little more than a foot away from the agitated blond. “I ain’t gonna ask anymore, I’m tellin’.”

“Go to hell before I send ya there myself.” He drew a small revolver from his holster, the barrel pressed gingerly into your belly. You were unimpressed.

“Wow, you must really be an idiot-“

“What did you just say?” The other butted in.

“I said he’s an idiot. Not only is he dumb enough to try and watch me, but it also seems he’s so stupid that he’s try ‘nd point a weapon at me with the Sheriff’s office just around the corner.” You lowered your voice. “Your escape rides are a lil far to be actin’ like you own the place, aren’t they?” They gave each other a worried glance after hearing you say that. “I just wanna know what gives you the nerve to be spyin’ on someone like me.”

“This here is O’Driscoll territory, boy.” The Friar Tuck looking one verbally spit.

“Well, excuse me, I don’t see your permits of established territory. Now I’m not sure you noticed this or not, but I got eyes everywhere. You see, friend, I’ve got a certain way with words, and got enough skill to get people to do as I ask. Try anything funny and I won’t hesitate.” You push the offending arm that held the gun away, he gave no resistance. “I’ll give you a word of advice, keep you eyes to yourself.” You reached up, plucking the hat off his head by the brim. “And don’t wear hats. You ain’t big enough for ‘em.” You took a few steps back, masking the cautionary nature of them with cockiness. “I’ll see you two around.” You put the black hat on the crown of your head and waved them off.

You could already hear both men huff from frustration as you left. You decided to cut into the alley between the hotel and another building.

“That was quite possibly the best outcome you coulda got.” The sound of his accent surprised you. Arthur was leaning his shoulder against a blue beam but was about a foot taller due to him standing on the hotel’s platform. “I’m actually a little impressed. Never seen an O’Driscoll give up so easily.” He tipped his hat. “Especially not when you’ve so thoroughly disrespected ‘em.”

“Well, you did say I oughta get a hat, yeah?” Your throat was glad to be rid of the way too below your octave voice you’d taken on.

“I did indeed. It ain’t quite right, but it’ll do for now. Except for the fact yer wearin’ it all wrong.” Arthur dropped down to one knee, which was even more surprising than when he spoke up out of nowhere. It was unclear to you if it was just all the contemplating you’d done of him previously or what, but his eyes looked more unguarded than you were used to. Clear and questioning, they were honest. You could feel the ghost of his hand take the top of the hat and move it forward so that the sweatband met the top of your forehead.  “Much better.” He made what almost sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thanks…” Your voice came out softer than you meant for it to.

“Yer welcome. Now, let’s go check on Uncle. That old fool mighta drunk himself to death by now, here’s hopin’.” He stood to his feet and cracked his neck.

“Don’t be so hard on him, Arthur. He used to be the ‘one-shot kid’. Have a little more faith in him.” Your joke made him groan.

“Now you sound like Dutch.” You could practically hear his thoughts go ‘ew’. Together you walked back over to find a passed-out Uncle.

“Huh…Bill told me Javier and Charles are still here, you wanna go find them?”

“Eh, no, let’s just wait for the ladies. They’re usually pretty smart, but you can never be too careful.” You both took a seat on the shop’s wooden steps since Uncle was now sprawled on the bench.

“You’re very protective. You know that?” You asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s not a bad thing either. Just something I’ve noticed. You care a lot.”

“It’s not-“

“You’re not gonna fool me, Arthur Morgan. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people over the years. I personally think it’s a good thing.”

“Really?” You expected his inflection to allude annoyance, but it was rather sincere.

“Yeah. I’ve been around you guys for a while now and let me tell you, the macho gets old. That’s why I appreciate the calmer and more caring outlook you have. It means you’re reliable.” He went silent after your last comment. This made you think you may have overstepped and made him uncomfortable. You forced out a laugh to try and lighten the mood. “Sorry about that, I talk without thinking sometime-“

“I never thought about it like that before.” What? “You know you’re real strange, West.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” This time the chuckle at the end was legitimate. “I’m used to it though.”

“Y’know, everyone’s real interested to hear more about you. Ya don’t say much about yourself, and when you do its all vague. You scared of somethin’?” You weren’t sure why his question shocked you initially, they said the same thing earlier.

“I don’t think scared is the right word.”

“Then what is?” There was a newfound dulcet way in his speaking. You pondered that question for a moment. You weren’t trying to get killed just because someone was nice to you.

“You all have been so kind to me, and I’m sure it’s frustrating to not know practically anything about me, but for safety’s sake, until proven otherwise, it’s best that I don’t say.”

“You got someone after you or somethin’? ‘Cause if you do, we really need to know what to look out for.”

“It’s complicated. The less you know the better. Besides, I’m too far gone and far too different for that to matter.”

“You really know how to be cryptic, don’t ya?” He scratched at his beard.

“I’ve been told that as well, yes.”

“In any case, you can trust us. I know they don’t seem like it, but most of them boys, and almost all the ladies, they’re real good listeners.”

“See what I mean? You care an awful lot. It’s actually really impres-“

“Arthur! James!” And elated voice called out. You looked to the right and saw Mary-Beth making small and quick steps toward you. Arthur picked a pebble off the ground and snapped it at Uncle, hitting him in the stomach with a light ‘pap’ sound and efficiently waking him from his alcoholic slumber. He let out a sudden yelp, and Arthur pretended he wasn’t the one who threw a small rock at him.

“By god, what are ya shoutin’ for, old man?”

“Something just hit me!” He squealed.

“Damn birds, amiright?” His words slurred through his accent. You didn’t respond to him.

“Hey Mary-Beth. What have you been up to?” You greeted her with a smile.

“That’s actually what I was comin’ over to tell y’all about! I found this big, fancy house and snuck in, pretendin’ to be a servant girl. It usually works.” She gestured with her hands. “Anyway, I heard some talk about the lady’s sister goin’ on a trip to some getaway vacation. A train full of rich bigwigs cruisin’ along the empty countryside at night to get to Saint Denis! To avoid the tides and all.”

“I don’t know about that, Mary-Beth. Seems a little risky.” Arthur was hesitant.

“Oh, come on, Arthur! There’s bound to be enough money on that train to keep us movin’, yeah?”

“I guess…Say, where’s Tilly and Karen at?”  

“Oh uh, Karen picked up some drunk fella to try and rob, took ‘em to the hotel.”

“Why?!” You joined in.

“Seemed easy…She has been gone for a while, though. Oh! There’s Tilly right there!” You followed her line of sight and saw Tilly get pulled into the alleyway you came out of earlier. You couldn’t hear much from where you were, but she was clearly getting yelled at by a man you didn’t recognize. “That don’t look good.”

Help Tilly or Help Karen?

Return here after choice is made

“Yeah, he only punched me. He got it worse, trust me.” She smirked.

“Uncle, can you take the girls back to camp. I think that’s been enough adventure for one day.

“I saw Bill ride in earlier, should we get him too?” Tilly asked.

“I’ll check on him here in a bit.” Everyone agreed to going back and things seemed pretty chill. Then some random guy on a horse slows down next to the group.

“I…I saw you in Blackwater!” What?

“No, no you didn’t. Let’s talk about this here-“

“I’m getting out of here!” What the fuck is going on? His horse made a quick turn in the opposite direction.

“Shit! Uncle, get the girls out of here!” Arthur hopped onto the back of a ginger horse and chased after the mystery man. Someone in the distance yelled,

“Hey! That’s my horse!” but didn’t go after them or anything. You stood in complete bewilderment for a moment.

“What are ya doin’, son? We have to go!” Uncle snapped you back into reality.

“No, you all get out of here. I’m gonna make sure Arthur doesn’t get into any trouble.” You waved them off and jogged off to figure out where they might’ve gone.

[halo-of-honey]

The Florist and the Chief, Pt. 2

Jim Hopper x Original Fem. Character

Synopsis: Mac has to make a choice she doesn't want to make. But not making it could ruin everything.

Words: 8,562

Notes: Here is the sequel! I snuck in a cheeky little 80s reference I’m sure no one will get. But if you wanna know the answer, message me OR check out the end notes on AO3! I also promised to tag @coolyoungbouquetdestinylove.

Part 1

[[ Read on AO3! ]]

A young woman stood on the deck of a small cottage overlooking a pond. The sun was beginning to rise and she watched as a morning fog rose from the surface of the water. A loon glided elegantly by, softly wailing in the haze. The spring air was chilly on her bare legs, sending a shiver up her spine. She pulled the collar of the oversized flannel shirt she was wearing up around her chin, breathing in it’s musky scent. Behind her in the bedroom, a man stirred awake realizing the young woman was no longer there.

“Mac?” he mumbled into the dim room.

Hawkins Police Chief, Jim Hopper pawed at the sheets, searching blindly for the young woman who he thought had been there moments ago. When his large hand didn’t find her, he sat up on one elbow and squinted groggily around the room. Across from the bed, he noticed the door to the deck was slightly ajar. A cool breeze from outside was ruffling the long curtains that blocked out the light. Hopper swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, reaching for a pair of jeans discarded on the floor.

The Chief pulled on the jeans, but didn’t bother zipping or buttoning them. He shuffled shirtless towards the open door and pulled back the curtain. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he finally found the person he was looking for. Hopper took a moment to admire the young woman standing on the deck. Even after more than a year he was still blown away by how beautiful she was. He had to remind himself every day that she was just as attracted to him.

“Mac? What’re you doin’ up so early?” Hopper mumbled as he stepped out onto the deck.

Mackenna Kinney glanced over her shoulder, her auburn hair catching the light, “Hmm? Sorry, go back to bed. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“A few hours.”

“Mackenna...” Hopper reproved. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, “You need to rest.”

Mac leaned her head against Hopper’s chest, “I know, I just got caught up with work.”

“I know this is your dream or whatever, but you haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in over a month.”

“I’m alright, Hop. This is what I want.”

“That’s what worries me.”

Mac twisted so she was facing him and stretched up on her toes, placing a sweet kiss on Hopper’s lips, “The semester is almost over. I’ll get some rest then.”

“That’s a month away.”

Hopper growled as Mac’s hand snuck down the front of his jeans and into his underwear. Her silvery blue eyes almost deepened in color as she watched his reaction to her touch. She liked the softer side of Hopper, the side not many people got to see. But she had to admit she loved his rougher side, too. The way he looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive. She pressed her palm down his member, a small smirk playing across her lips when it twitched. Hopper’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Damn, woman. You’re just...trying to distract me.” he struggled to say, a low rumble in his chest. “We can’t...anyway...El’s here.”

“Nope, I dropped her off at the Byers’ last night. Remember?” Mac clarified. “We’re all alone.”

Hopper grinned, “Well then...in that case.”

✧✧✧✧

“Okay, alright you two. Come on! Come sit! I have an announcement.” Mac said, herding Hopper and El to take a seat on the living room couch.

“Mac, the potatoes are going to burn in the oven if I don’t take them out!” Hopper protested.

They all looked over as the oven door opened, three baked potatoes floated out and landed with a soft, slightly crispy plop on the stovetop. Hopper shot El a look and she shrugged silently, moving to curl up on the couch. Outside a large blanket of snow slid off the cabin roof followed by a gust of frigid air that swept through the room from the gaps in the windows. It was as if the tiny cabin shivered in the presence of El’s powers.

“Thanks, El.” Mac smiled. “Now come on, sit! Sit!”

Once they were both sitting Mac stayed standing in front of them, pacing and wringing her fingers. El’s eyes followed the young woman go back and forth across the well worn carpet as if she was watching a tennis match. Hopper waited patiently for a few moments until his stomach rumbled hungrily. He had gotten home late for dinner and was starving. Mac had been so anxious about her announcement she forgot about dinner until Hopper knocked on the door.

“What’s the big deal, Mac?” Hopper asked finally.

“Well, you know how I’ve always wanted to become a biology teacher?” Mac said, chewing her lip. “But I never got to continue my degrees and whatnot.”

“Right?”

“Well...old Ms. Radcliff finally decided to take her retirement at the end of this school year.”

“Really? I thought she would’ve stayed at that school until she literally died behind her desk.” Hopper commented under his breath.

Mac shot him a look and he shrugged, “But anyway, the school has started searching for a replacement to start in the fall. I applied as soon as I saw the listing in the paper. I’m not exactly qualified but I could be...and well, they hired me!”

Hopper and El’s faces both lit up, “Wow, hun! That’s great!” Hopper said.

“Yes...exciting.” El agreed, looking proud of herself for picking out the correct word.

“Right well, I’ll have to start night courses now to get my teaching certification. Then when that’s done I can consider starting a masters degree or skip right to a PhD program.”

“P-H-D?” El inquired.

Mac smiled, “It means I’ll be a doctor. But not a medical doctor or a mind doctor like the one Will sees. I’ll be a doctor of science.” she explained.

El squirmed excitedly, “Bitchin!”

Hopper and Mac laughed, “Yes, it will be pretty bitchin if I can pull it off.”

“I’m very excited for you, Mac. This is great news!” Hopper said, standing to go to her.

“I know, it’s going to be so much work but I feel like it’s what I need to do.”

Hopper pulled Mac into a warm hug and gave her a kiss on the lips. Moments later, El came over to stretch her arms as far around the two of them as she could. Mac freed an arm of her own to put around El’s shoulders. She couldn’t think of a time when she was happier in her life. It had taken her a long time but Mac was finally getting around to fulfilling her dreams. She would have to give up the florist shop, but she knew her grandfather would have supported her choice if he was still alive.

A loud, rolling grumble sounded from Hopper’s belly and El giggled, “Can we eat now?” he asked.

Mac rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling when she said, “Yes, Jim. We can eat now.”

✧✧✧✧

Hopper traced lazy circles on Mac’s bare back. She was lying on her stomach with her head on a pillow, gazing sleepily up at Hopper. He smiled down at her, leaning to kiss her forehead and then pulled the sheets up around her waist. Mac was struggling to stay awake, even though it was almost half-past eight in the morning. Granted she hadn’t slept much the night before and the roll in the sheets with Hopper wasn’t helping.

“Sleep, Mac. I can go pick up El before I stop over at the station.” Hopper mumbled to her.

“I have to study...and I have homework to grade.”

Hopper leaned to kiss Mac’s shoulder, “You spent all night studying. And besides, it’s Saturday. I want you to sleep for a couple more hours. Then you can go back to work.” he insisted.

“But there’s so much to do...the house is a mess.”

“El can clean the house. She should really start having chores, anyway.”

Mac’s eyes slowly sunk shut, “I guess I could sleep for a few hours...” she mumbled.

Hopper smoothed his hand over her hair, “Just sleep, hun. I’ll be home for lunch.”

“Mhm...” Sleep started to take Mac away, but she remembered one more thing. “I told Joyce...pick El up at nine.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Just sleep.”

✧✧✧✧

“Well it’s done. I sign over the deed to the shop next week sometime.”

Hopper could tell by the slump of Mac’s shoulders and the way she picked at the cocktail napkin under her beer that she was not looking forward to that event. As excited as she was to start her new job at the high school and the PhD program she’d been accepted to only a few days before, it was clear letting go of the florist was going to be the hardest part. He knew she was brilliant enough to take the other parts in stride. But the shop had been a part of her for almost as long as she’d been alive.

The couple had met for a drink after Hopper got off his shift one summer evening. The bar was mostly dead, as it almost always was, but there were a handful of college boys in the back playing rounds of darts. It was much too early for them to be drunk, but they were getting a little rowdy. Every few minutes, one of them would shout and attract the attention of the few other patrons in the bar. Hopper wondered if he should say something to them.

“At least it’s someone you trust. I’m sure Mr. Krelborn will take really good care of it.” Hopper offered.

Mac chewed on the inside of her cheek, “Yeah...he said he wouldn’t change much. He even talked about buying new state of the art refrigerators. You know, the ones I couldn’t afford?” she said.

He reached out to rub her back, “It’ll be okay, Mac. Once you get going with all the other stuff, you’ll forget all about the shop.”

“I hope I don’t. I don’t want to forget it.”

“Well...you know what I meant.” Hopper replied, feeling like he said the wrong thing. “You won’t forget, it just won’t worry you as much.”

Mac nodded meekly, “Right...yeah.”

Mac took a pull from her beer, her gaze drifting over to the young men in the back and Hopper tried not to sigh. It bothered him seeing her this depressed. He hadn’t seen her so upset since the time Billy Hargrove nearly strangled her to death the winter before. It took over a week for her to get back to herself after that incident. Hopper wanted to help her feel better, but wasn’t sure how. He worried that his plans for their anniversary coming up might not go over well if she was still down about the shop.

“Alright, well come on. Let’s go pick up some ice cream and we can be fat and watch a movie.” Hopper said, pulling out his wallet to toss a couple bills on the bar.

Mac gave him a weak smile, took another big gulp of her beer, then slid off her stool, “What movie?”

“Lady’s choice.”

Hopper winked at her as he reached for her. Mac rolled her eyes, but her smile got a little bigger. If there was something Hopper knew about his girlfriend, it was that she was a sucker for his gentler side. He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her out of the bar. As they headed down the sidewalk to the store, she leaned her head against his shoulder. It’s a start, Hopper thought to himself.

✧✧✧✧

Mac jolted awake a little over an hour after Hopper insisted she sleep. Outside the bedroom door, something was scratching softly at the floor. They didn’t have any pets, so for a moment Mac worried that a stray animal had gotten into the cottage somehow. Drool was crusted on Mac’s chin and she reached to push her hair out of her face when she sat up. She had gotten it cut to about shoulder length in the fall after another teacher suggested keeping it short would deter head lice. So she was still getting used to keeping it tamed.

“El? Is that you?” Mac called from the bed.

“Yes, sorry Mac.” El answered on the other side of the door. “I was trying to be quiet like Hop said.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sweeping.”

Mac smiled to herself and let out a breath, “Have you picked up the living room?”

“Yes,”

“And the dishes?”

There was a pause in the scratching on the floor, “No...” El answered finally.

“Alright, well let me jump in the shower and then I’ll come help you.”

“Hop told me not to let you do that. He made me promise.” El replied.

Mac rolled her eyes, “Did he now? What exactly did he say?” she asked, knowing El could repeat back word for word what he told her.

“El, you must not let Mac do any housework. I want you to take care of all of it. Let her sleep.”

“What else?”

El hesitated again, “Nothing...”

Mac climbed out of the bed and pulled on Hopper’s flannel shirt again, going to open the door, “What else El?” she said, looking the girl in the eye.

“He said, ‘Use your powers to stop her if you have to.’” El answered, clutching the handle of the broom. “But I don’t think he meant it. Like he told me about how adults say things they don’t mean.”

“Right, you’re exactly right.”

Mac smiled even if she was a little miffed that Hopper would suggest that to the girl. There was no guarantee she would understand he was joking and the consequences would end with Mac held down in a chair by an invisible forcefield. A flash of that teenage boy getting tossed across Joyce Byers’ living room crossed her mind. She didn’t want to think about what that must’ve felt like.

“He said he’d be home at one-one...I mean, one-fifteen.” El continued.

Mac glanced back into the bedroom to the clock on the dresser, “Well then that gives us about three hours to get this house spick and span.”

“Spick and span?”

“Cleaned up.”

El nodded and smiled, “Spick and span.”

“Alright, again let me go jump in the shower. Then I’ll come see what needs to be done.”

✧✧✧✧

Hopper had big plans for his and Mac’s first anniversary. Though much to her frustration he insisted they were all a surprise. Hopper had to take care of a few things at the station before he came to pick her up, so Mac took her time getting ready in the morning. Of course, this led to a number of mishaps including tripping on the corner of the carpet and knocking over a vase of tiger lilies. When Hopper arrived at her apartment and let himself in with his spare key, she screeched and rushed into her bedroom.

“I’m not ready yet! Stay in the living room!” Mac called.

Hopper chuckled and stooped to pick up the heap of soggy paper towels Mac left on the floor, “What fought back this time?” he asked.

“Careful! There’s probably still glass. I had some lilies on the console behind the couch.”

“Are you almost ready? We have reservations.”

Mac raised an eyebrow at herself in the mirror as she dabbed on a little perfume, “Reservations? Really? Jim Hopper made dinner reservations?”

“Yes, it’s a special night. Doesn’t it call for reservations?” he asked, taking out a dustpan to sweep up the remaining pieces of glass.

“I suppose so, I’m just shocked is all.” Mac replied, stepping into the hall.

Hopper stood up straight and took her in, “Damn...”

She was wearing a robin’s egg blue empire waist dress patterned with white flowers. The bust criss-crossed and tied around her neck, showing off her freckled shoulders. She wore little white kitten heels and her legs looked incredible. At Hopper’s expression Mac blushed and dropped her eyes, recalling the way he looked at her the day they met. He didn’t look half bad himself in a tidy red shirt and black slacks.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” he said, striding over to wrap his arms around her.

Mac giggled as Hopper twirled her around, “Oh Jim, come on. You’re just trying to butter me up.”

“Maybe later.” Hopper replied with a wink. “For now, we have reservations!”

“Let me just finish cleaning up that vase, okay?”

“I already did.”

Mac smiled, “You’re too good to me, Jim Hopper.”

“And you’re too good for me, Mackenna Kinney.”

The couple headed out, Hopper driving Mac’s powder blue VW Beetle to the restaurant across town. When he parked, he jogged around to the passenger door to hold it open and help Mac climb out. As they walked down the sidewalk arm in arm, Mac realized what restaurant they were going to. It had only opened a few weeks before, but everyone in town was already raving about it. She had heard the chef came from Chicago and previously worked at a number of five star restaurants.

“Hop, isn’t this that new place? I heard it’s really expensive.” Mac mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s our anniversary.”

“I know...I just don’t want you breaking the bank just to take me out for a nice dinner. You know I’m happy just getting a burger down at Frankie’s.”

“We always go to the diner. I wanted this night to be different.” Hopper admitted.

As they got to the door, the host came to hold it open for them. Hopper ushered Mac in ahead of him, gentlemanly as always. The host quickly returned to his podium and scanned through his reservations book. When he found Hopper’s name, he smiled and then showed them to their table. It was only big enough for the two of them, with chairs on either side and was next to the plant-filled window. Fairy lights were strung around the room, giving everything a very intimate atmosphere.

Almost every table was filled and their waiter had to scoot around the room to avoid bumping into anyone. “May I get you anything to drink to start?” he asked when he reached their table, folding his hands politely in front of his black cumberbund.

“Uh, sure, yeah. What kind of wine would you recommend?” Hopper asked awkwardly.

“Well it would depend of course on what you’ll be having for dinner. But I can say if you prefer red wine, we have a lovely bottle of 1974 Catalans sangiovese. Or for white the 1980 Diamond Creek sauvignon blanc is excellent as well.”

Hopper hesitated, clearly out of his depth, “We’ll try the red.” he answered finally.

“Very good choice, sir.” the waiter said with a curt nod and then left them.

Mac was grinning at her beau when he looked back at her, “Very good choice, Chief.” she teased.

Hopper rolled his eyes, “Alright so I don’t know shit about wine.”

“It’s fine. I hardly do, myself.” she replied sweetly.

“Is red okay? Did you want white?”

“No, no red is fine.” Hopper let out a visible sigh, so Mac slid her hand across the table to cover his. “Hey, it’s fine. You did fine.”

Hopper smiled, twining his fingers into hers, “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”

“I can tell. What do you have to be nervous about? You know you don’t have to do fancy stuff to impress me. I love you just how you are.”

“I know, and I love you, too.” he said, pausing. “It’s nothing...I’m just not used to these uppity restaurants.”

“Again, Hop. We could’ve just gone down to the diner.”

“No, I want this to be special.”

“Okay, Jim. If you say so.” Mac said.

The waiter returned with their wine, pouring a small amount for Hopper to approve. Mac pressed her lips together, trying not to giggle as Hopper pretended like he knew what he was doing. He drank the whole glass in one big gulp, the waiter clearly taken aback, and then nodded roughly. The waiter forced a polite smile, poured them both a glass and then placed the rest of the bottle into the wine stand beside the table.

“Do you know what you would like?” the waiter asked.

The couple jumped, realizing they hadn’t yet looked at the menu, “Uh, no, can we have another minute?” Hopper answered curtly.

“Certainly, sir. I will return to take your orders shortly.”

When the waiter returned, they put in their orders and then Hopper sat back in relief. He was glad to be done with most of the formalities. Now he needed to prepare himself for what he had planned after dinner. That was what he was really nervous about. Watching Mac across the table as she glanced around the room, he couldn’t believe he had gotten this far with her. That even after everything -- his less than ideal figure, his age, and more importantly El and all the secrets that came with her -- Mac had stuck around.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that you ran into me that day at the library?” Hopper asked suddenly.

Mac’s eyes locked on his, two pairs of burning blue flames in the dim room, “Yes, but you can tell me again.”

Her tone soothed him and he leaned forward to be closer to her, “I never thought I would love anyone again. Not after Diane and Sara. But I took in El and things were going well. And then you turned up. You were so eager to take time out of your day to help me find a book. The hot, young thing that you are interested in me. A fat old man.”

Mac’s cheeks flushed, knowing the gravity behind his words if he spoke his deceased daughter’s name aloud. “You’re not that fat or old.” she mumbled, smiling.

“Well either way, you changed my life. I thought I’d be fine raising El on my own, but you’ve made it a million times better.” Hopper finished.

“Oh, Hop...” Mac cooed, holding back tears. “I worked so hard on my makeup tonight. You’re gonna make me ruin it!”

Hopper laughed, “I love you, Mackenna. Always.”

Mac stretched across the table to kiss Hopper, smiling into his lips. “I love you, too Jim.”

✧✧✧✧

The cottage on the pond had many faults. The floorboards were somewhat creaky, some of the doors didn’t always latch all the way, and the stairs down to the cellar could test even a sober man’s balance. But the one thing Mac had to give it was that no matter what, there was always hot water. When her coworkers and friends complained of freezing pipes and calling plumbers in the middle of the night, Mac couldn’t sympathize. She knew that when she stepped into her shower, it would be gloriously hot and stay that way the whole time.

Mac enjoyed the little things. As long as she had a roof over her head, a hot shower, and the man she loved in her bed she was a happy woman. All the while, she was practical and appreciated a clean home and a solid to-do list. She stood in the shower, shampooing her hair and thinking about everything she needed to do that day. Eventually she turned off the water and pushed back the curtain. When she stepped out of the tub though, she had to reach out and grab the towel rod as the room spun suddenly. It was made of plastic and cracked almost instantly, sending Mac crashing to the floor.

She landed hard on her wrist, elbow, and hip, but managed to keep her head off the tiles. For a moment she sat there, arm stinging and in shock. She didn’t think she felt so dizzy in the shower. But now that she was down there on the floor, her head did feel a little woozy. Carefully she stood up, using the vanity to help stabilize her. She gripped it hard as blood rushed to her head again, though she managed to stay on her feet this time. El started knocking on the bedroom door.

“Mac? What was that? Are you okay?” she called from the hallway.

After El had almost walked in on Mac and Hopper having an intimate moment, they had to make it a rule that she needed to knock before entering someone’s bedroom. If she didn’t receive the go ahead to come in, she had to stay in the hall. Only if she thought it was an absolute emergency was she to let herself in. Fortunately they had never really needed to enforce the rule, but El followed it nonetheless.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just slipped on the rug.” Mac called back.

“Okay...” El replied.

Mac lifted her arm, wincing when she saw the blood running down her arm. It appeared that when the towel rod broke, it slashed into the side of her forearm leaving a line of shallow scratches. She made quick work bandaging herself up as she had injured herself in similar ways many times before. But it bothered her that this time wasn’t just because of her clumsiness. Although she knew exactly why she fell, she wasn’t prepared to admit it quite yet.

Once she was bandaged and dressed, Mac found El in the kitchen already elbow deep in a sinkful of grey, sudsy water. From what she could tell, El was just moving the dishes around under the water and not actually washing them. The girl looked over her shoulder, a suspicion in her eyes only an old soul could muster. It was as if she knew Mac had lied to her about slipping on the rug. Mac tried to ignore it.

“Are you washing those dishes or just teaching them how to swim?” Mac asked, moving to stand next to the sink.

“How do you wash dishes?”

“Well first of all, drain some of that water.” Mac instructed. “You don’t need so much. Maybe only half the sink.”

El nodded, her arm moving as she searched for the drain plug, “Then what?”

“Then you take the sponge and you use it to clean all the food off. When there’s no more food, you rinse the dish under the tap and put it here on this towel” Mac explained, laying out a clean dishcloth on the counter next to the sink.

“Okay...”

El got to work scrubbing and Mac dried and put the dishes away. It didn’t take long for El to clean them all. She drained the rest of the water from the sink, then helped Mac putting them away. Mac could tell El was eying her bandaged arm, which stuck out slightly from the end of her rolled up shirtsleeves. She wanted to assure El that it was a minor injury, but she also didn’t want to draw any more attention to it than what was absolutely necessary.

“What now?” El asked finally when all the dishes were neatly in their cabinets.

Mac ran through the list she had made in her head, “Did you clean your room?”

El nodded, “Yes.”

“Water the plants?”

“Yes.”

“Do your homework?”

El hesitated, “Most of it.” she answered slowly.

“Well, go get it and meet me in my study. We’ll do our homework together.”

“But Hop said...”

Mac ground her teeth, “I know what he said. But it’s okay. Now go get your homework.”

El didn’t move until Mac gave her a pointed look. Then she rushed off to her bedroom to do as she was told. Mac still hadn’t gotten used to being a parental figure in El’s life. She didn’t exactly enjoy laying down the law, but she knew if she wanted to be with Hopper this was what she would need to do every once in a while. Fortunately El was a pretty well behaved child and the few times when she did push back were usually directed at Hopper.

Mac sighed and ran her fingers over the bandages on her arm. She was still so tired, but there was so much work to do. She wondered if Hopper was right, maybe she was overworking herself. But this is what she wanted, to finally get her PhD. Maybe this was just the price she’d have to pay to get it. She took another deep breath, then turned to head to her study.

✧✧✧✧

After dinner Hopper walked slowly down the street with Mac back to her car. He helped her get in then went around and climbed in behind the wheel. When he pulled away from the curb he continued on straight for a while, well past where Mac thought he would need to turn to get back to her apartment. She also realized they were also going in the opposite direction of Hopper’s cabin in the woods. Mac reached to brush her hand down the back of Hopper’s head.

“Hop, where are we going? You missed the turn.” she asked him.

Hopper shook his head and glanced at her with a small smile, “No, I didn’t miss the turn. Just trust me, okay?”

Mac suddenly felt nervous, was he taking her somewhere to propose? She didn’t know if she was ready for that level of commitment. They had been together for a year but Hopper had a child, and she was still adjusting to her new motherly role. With all the upcoming changes, selling the shop, preparing to start her PhD, she didn’t know if she could handle a wedding on top of it all. She couldn’t say yes to Hopper, but she loved him and couldn’t bare to lose him either.

Hopper noticed the shift in Mac’s expression. The concern that was making her brows knit together and her fingers fidget with her skirt. For a moment he considered turning around, saying it was all just a joke. He wished he could ask her what she was thinking. This was something he had planned for so long, he’d worked so hard for it. Hopper ducked his chin in determination and continued driving.

Finally Hopper steered the Beetle off the main road onto a gravel drive leading into the woods. It bumped along, creaking as he gently coaxed it around potholes. The sun was just beginning to set, the light streaking in long shafts between the trees. They were only a few miles outside of Hawkins proper, but it felt like a whole other world. With the windows rolled down, the only sounds were the rumble of the car’s engine and the birds’ evening conversations.

“Where are we?” Mac asked as a small cottage appeared in front of them.

Hopper parked the car, shut it off, and started to climb out, “Home.”

“What do you mean ‘home?’ You don’t live here.” she asked when he came to help her out.

He was grinning from ear to ear, “I don’t yet. But we could...together.”

“Hop...what are you talking about?”

“Just come on...come inside.” he said, pushing down the sudden worry. This was not going well at all, he thought.

Taking her hand, Hopper led Mac gently towards the front door of the cottage. He pulled out his key ring and turned it over in his hands for a moment until he found the one he was looking for. Mac almost couldn’t believe it when the lock turned over and he pushed open the door. He let her go in ahead of him, his palm warm against the small of her back. She took small, tentative steps feeling somewhat like an intruder.

“Jim, who’s house is this?” Mac asked firmly.

Hopper slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, “It’s our house, Mac. I bought it for us.”

“What?”

Mac’s voice was so small, Hopper almost thought he blew it completely. So he turned, getting down on one knee so he could see her better and she took a startled step back, “Mac, wait! No no no! I’m not proposing!” he said quickly.

“You’re not?”

“No! Not yet at least, not until we’re both ready.”

“Oh...” Mac mumbled.

Hopper stood again, hoping it would bring her some ease, “Mackenna I want you to move in with me. I bought this house so that we could be a family. I thought...well honestly I thought you would like it better than the cabin.”

Mac took in his words as tears started to well in her eyes, “Jim...are you serious?”

“Yeah, Mac, this house is ours.”

Just when Hopper thought she was going to turn and run, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He laughed and kissed her back, wrapping her in his arms. Mac continued to weep but she started laughing, too. When Hopper finally loosened his grip on her, she reached up to wipe shyly at her damp cheeks. Hopper cupped her head in his palm, his fingers winding in her hair. His smile was bigger than she’d ever seen it.

“There’s a big deck out back that looks over the pond. It’s beautiful.” he said. “And there’s a spot I think you’ll love. To have all your plants and stuff. Do your work.”

She chuckled, gasping a little between her sobs, “Okay, show me.”

✧✧✧✧

Mac’s study was actually the little sunporch that jutted out off the side of the house. As one would expect, it was filled with plants. Some hanging in pots from the ceiling, some spilling over the edges of the shelves that lined the walls. It always smelled of the earth, sweet and rich. In the springtime, some of her plants would bloom and the room would remind her of the florist shop. The shelves held many books as well, mostly informational tomes on plant biology and botany.

This was also where Mac kept some of her most prized possessions. A copy of The Great Gatsby her grandmother gave her when she was young. The little terracotta pot that once held the first plant -- a beautiful African violet -- her grandfather gave her. A bundle of wild flowers El gave her the day they met that were dried and framed. A birthday card from Hopper including the words “I love you, always” inside, one of the first times he ever told her. The only remaining photo she had of her deceased parents.

She went to her desk and straightened up some of the papers there. To her left was Mac’s workbench, which at that time was splattered with soil, a couple plant starter trays, and a number of different seed packets. Some empty petri dishes were stacked precariously in one corner along with other scientific equipment. To her right in the other corner of the room, a large well-worn leather armchair sat stoutly, the throw blanket crumpled in the seat. The end table next to it that was almost always obscured by books also held a neglected mug of coffee from the evening before.

Mac preferred to work on her feet most times since she was always moving around. But for grading homework she had a rolling padded stool to sit on. She pulled it out and got settled, glancing out the windows in front of her at the pond. The loon from that morning was diving into shallow water near their little dock. Behind her she could hear El rustling around in the kitchen. A short while later, the girl appeared at Mac’s elbow. Books and papers bundled in her arms, El carefully floated a steaming mug through the air, landing on Mac’s desk.

“Tea.” El explained.

Mac smiled, “Thank you, sweetheart. Smells great.”

El dumped her books in the armchair, then took the old coffee mug to put in the sink. When she returned, she had her own steaming mug. Mac watched the girl as she cupped it in her hands, closing her eyes to breathe it in. Sometimes El surprised her with the things she picked up on. She was sure El had seen her doing that with her own drink once and was just parroting the action. If Mac was honest, she thought it was kind of cute and endearing. She just hoped she wouldn’t give the girl any bad habits.

“Music?” El asked.

“Sure, you pick.” Mac replied, already focusing in.

El picked a jazz radio station out of the city. She left the volume low, knowing Mac didn’t like working with it too loud. Then she cozied up in the chair with her own homework. Occasionally she would ask Mac questions or bring over a worksheet to show her. But mostly the two girls worked in silence. Because of this, Mac didn’t even notice when El finished her homework and left the study to go watch TV.

Mac also didn’t hear when Hopper came home. From the front door, it was hard to see if anyone was in the study. Hopper unbuckled and removed his holster, storing it safely away in the small cabinet by the door. As soon as he stepped up behind El on the couch though, he noticed Mac hunched over her desk. He put a hand on El’s shoulder and she twisted to look up at him. Her expression was apologetic and Hopper understood what it meant.

“How long did she sleep?” he asked El softly.

“Until nine-four...9:45.” she replied.

Hopper sighed, “What did you guys do?”

“She took a shower and fell. Then we did the dishes. Then we did homework.”

“She fell? What does that mean?”

“She said she tripped on the rug. Her arm has...white cloth.” El said, struggling for the word ‘bandage.’

“Shit...” Hopper mumbled under his breath. When he saw El’s distressed expression, he tried to give her a reassuring smile, “It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay...”

Hopper gave her shoulder a rough pat, “Run off to your room, kid. Okay? Mac and I need to have a talk.”

El nodded and unfolded from the couch. As she left the room, the TV switched off on its own. Hopper waited to hear her door shut, his eyes glued on the back of Mac’s head. When he was sure El was gone, he sighed and headed for the study.

✧✧✧✧

“Where do I put this?” El asked, holding up a small, boxy radio.

Mac glanced over her shoulder from where she was putting dishes into the empty cabinets, “You can put that out in the study.” she answered.

El moved to put the radio on top of the many boxes that were stacked in the sunporch. The moving company had brought over their boxes that morning and they had been working to empty them since. Across the room, Hopper caught Mac’s eye and grinned at her. He was busy taking his record collection out of their boxes and putting them on shelves. When El returned from the porch, she sat down on the floor next to him to help. Mac smiled back at them, a warm feeling washing over her at how adorable they looked together.

“Pink...F...F...Flo...” El said, sounding it out.

“Pink Floyd. Hey, that’s a great album.” Hopper said, glancing at the record she was holding.

“Pink Floyd.” El parroted.

“Did I not play that one for you?”

El shook her head, “No.”

“Well put it on then. We could use some tunes.”

El stood and went to the record player. She gingerly pulled the vinyl album out of its sleeve and placed it on the player. She lifted the pin and lowered it gently onto the record. At first it didn’t sound like anything was playing until the low heartbeat started to grow louder. When the sounds of what could’ve been an accounting office kicked in, El tilted her head in curiosity. Eventually the drumbeat of “Breathe” finally entered and Hopper started to bob his head.

“Now this is music.” he said.

El moved her head a little too, watching what Hopper was doing. “Good.” she said, smiling.

As records ended, Hopper would find another that El hadn’t yet heard and have her put that one on next. Mac would occasionally chime in with suggestions. But mostly she just wanted to watch Hopper interacting with his adopted daughter. She had spent countless hours with the two of them, though now that they were moving in together it felt a little different. Hopper was right; they could be a real family in that cottage.

“Hot Tuna?” El asked, pulling an album off the shelf and holding it up to show Hopper and Mac.

Hopper was up a ladder next to the dining room table, putting up a hanging chain lamp that Mac’s grandmother had given her. The lampshade was a stained glass pattern of purple irises. Mac stood underneath, ready to catch the lamp if it fell. Outside the sun had gone down and their dinner was cooking in the oven. Hopper glanced under his raised arm to look at El and Mac flinched as the lamp swung suddenly.

“Oh yeah, Burgers? That’s a good one.” he answered.

“Hot Tuna Burgers?” El mumbled to herself.

Mac chuckled, “The sixties were a weird time, kid.”

El nodded and put the record on, “Yes, very weird.”

“Hey kid, can you come help me out here?” Hopper asked and El moved to stand on the other side of the ladder from Mac. She looked up at him, squinting in the light, “Mac, where do you want it?”

The chain clearly gained slack as El used her powers to levitate the lamp, “A little higher, El...a little more...yeah, okay that’s good.” Mac said.

Hopper pulled the chain tight and slipped one link over the hook he screwed into the ceiling, “Alright, El, go ahead and let go. Slowly though.”

As El released the lamp, it swung a little bit then settled over the table, “Perfect.” Mac said with a nod of her head.

And it was perfect; their new little life in the cottage.

✧✧✧✧

“Hey, I thought I told you to get some rest?” Hopper said, reaching to smooth his hand over Mac’s hair.

She barely looked up from her work when she replied, “I did for a couple hours.”

Hopper sighed and looked away for a moment, trying to summon his patience, “What happened to your arm, Mac?”

“I tripped getting out of the shower.” she said, tugging her sleeve down over the bandages. “It’s barely a scratch.”

“How long are you gonna keep bullshitting me?”

His stern tone finally got her attention, “What are you talking about, Hop?” she asked, turning to face him.

“Mackenna, really? Are you serious?” he snapped. “You can lie to El if you want. But don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you! I’m fine, everything’s fine!”

Hopper growled, running a hand over his face exasperatedly, “You’re not though! Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re pale, you’re practically skin and bone. And now this with your arm! You didn’t trip, Mac. Did you?”

Mac glared back at him, “You’re an asshole, Jim.” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’m an asshole? That’s fucking rich!” Hopper laughed angrily.

“I have a lot of work to do.” she continued, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her desk. “So if you’re done calling me ugly, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone.”

“Argh! You insufferable woman!” Hopper roared, making Mac jump. She looked at him again, “I’m not calling you ugly, Mackenna! I’m saying you’re killing yourself. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore!”

“I’m not...I’m f--” she started, but Hopper cut her off.

“No! Don’t you dare! If you tell me you’re fine one more time...I swear, Mac.” he threatened, glaring at her.

“Hopper...” Mac mumbled, her whole body trembling.

Hopper hesitated, realizing he had really frightened her. He moved to kneel in front of her, putting his hands on either side of her face. “You tell me that this is what you want. But you can’t honestly tell me that working yourself into the dirt is what you want.”

“This is how I get my degree. A PhD is a lot of work.”

“Then maybe you need to give up teaching. Maybe both things are too much.”

Mac tried to shake her head, “No, I can’t do that. I want to teach. I’ve always wanted to teach.”

“I think you need to choose, Mac. I think it has to be one or the other.”

“It doesn’t though. It’s just because the semester is almost over, that’s all.”

Hopper sighed and leaned his head into her chest, dropping his hands to her elbows, “Mackenna, please...you know what’s happening. You’re smart...so smart. You know better than this.” he said quietly.

Mac couldn’t stop her body from shaking, “Jim I can’t...I can’t just give up.”

“You wouldn’t be giving up though.” he said, looking up at her again. “If you quit the teaching, you could focus on your degree and then start again when it’s done.”

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything. If I stop teaching, what if I never get a chance to go back?”

“There’ll always be opportunities, Mac. Maybe not here in Hawkins. But if we have to move somewhere to follow your dream, you know El and I would do that in a heartbeat.”

“We have bills to pay and my degree isn’t free.”

Hopper shook his head, “We’ll figure out the money.”

“Hopper...”

“I just want you to be healthy. I can’t watch another person I love...” he said, turning his face away as images of his daughter Sara in her hospital bed flashed through his mind. His eyes lingered on the braided, blue band around his wrist, “I can’t watch you die, Mac. I just can’t.”

Mac kissed Hopper’s forehead, “Let me finish this semester, Jim. Let me finish this semester and then I promise I’ll quit the high school.”

Hopper looked into her eyes, seeing that she had her own tears leaving wet streaks down her face, “This last semester, and you give them your notice first thing on Monday.”

“First thing.” Mac nodded solemnly.

“Okay...”

A small part of Mac’s heart broke agreeing to Hopper’s compromise. She could almost feel it drifting away from her. But the sheer panic in Hopper’s eyes when he spoke about losing her...she couldn’t do that to him. She knew deep down he was right, she was killing herself. Her fall getting out of the shower was only the beginning. If she kept going at the rate she was, fainting spells would be the least of her worries. She was physically unable to handle the teaching position and the workload of her PhD simultaneously. It was time she made a choice, one or the other.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” Hopper mumbled finally, reaching to wipe her tears with his fingers.

“I’m sorry I lied.” she replied. She ducked her head, “You were right, I didn’t trip. I got a bit lightheaded and tried to catch my fall. I broke the towel rod.”

Hopper looked at her arm, “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should get you checked out.”

“I’ll make an appointment with my GP this week. But I’m sure they’ll just tell me I need to sleep and eat a good meal.”

“Well, I can’t sleep for you.” Hopper joked. “But I can certainly try to cook you a good meal.”

“That’s sounds nice.”

“How much more work do you have to do?”

Mac glanced at her messy desk, strewn with worksheets and essays, pens and pencils. Her typewriter was even perched on an inch deep stack of papers, “I can work on it tomorrow. For now, I think I’d like to go out in the canoe.”

Hopper’s face brightened, “That sounds relaxing.”

“Well you go get it ready and I’ll have El help me make us a little picnic lunch.”

“Can do, hun.” Hopper said, standing. He went to the door on the sunporch that led to the backyard and then paused, “I love you, Mackenna. Always.”

“I love you, too Jim. More than you know.”

✧✧✧✧

El and Mac made their way down the dock with a bunch of cucumber and chicken salad sandwiches wrapped in a dish towel and a full thermos of hot tea. They watched as Hopper nudged the canoe off the muddy shore and into the pond with an oar. It’s forest green paint was chipping where it met with the metal edge and it was clear the white interior paint had seen better days. Hopper had brought out a big heap of wool blankets, which were piled on the end of the dock.

“Alright, pass me the blankets first.” he said, tossing the guide rope up to Mac so she could keep the canoe steady.

El put the thermos down and started handing over blankets one by one.. Hopper did his best to make kind of a nest in the bottom of the canoe. “What next?” El asked when she passed over the last blanket.

“You get in, then Mac can pass us the lunch.” Hopper held out his hand and El took it, looking like she was about to leap into the boat. “Just step in gently.”

El nodded and gingerly stretched one foot into the canoe. She wobbled for a moment, then righted herself, smiling broadly. Hopper helped her sit down in the front of the canoe and then came back for Mac. She passed him the sandwiches and the thermos first, which he set into the little wooden crate at the back. Then he held out his hand again for Mac.

“Thank you, Chief.” she said sweetly, carefully stepping down into the canoe.

“You’re very welcome.”

Hopper sat down on the little shelf bench towards the back of the canoe and Mac got settled between him and El. She made sure El was tucked into a blanket while Hopper paddled them out towards the middle of the pond. When he decided they had gone far enough, he stored the oar away in the back and then settled down behind Mac. He pulled her in between his legs and she leaned back against his chest, pulling another blanket up over her lap. She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the warm sun on her face.

“Now this is the life.” Hopper said, the sound rumbling against the back of Mac’s head.

He leaned to kiss Mac’s temple and she scrunched up her face when his beard tickled her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw El at the opposite end of the canoe, watching them with a wistful smile on her face. Her lovely chestnut curls ruffled in the breeze and her cheeks were flushed from the slightly chilly air. El held Mac’s gaze for a moment and then looked away, out to the world around her. Hopper wrapped his arms tighter around Mac and she snuggled in.

They certainly could get used to this.

[hannahindie]

Ladies’ Night

Characters: Reader, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Sam Winchester (briefly), Dean Winchester (briefly) Word Count: 5,266 (I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not. Don’t live your life with regrets, ya’ll) Warnings: A lot of snark. I would wager this is probably the sassiest reader I’ve written, which is actually kind of impressive. Garth being ridiculous, Dean being whiny, mention of Sam pouts, a good bit of violence, the gross misuse of a fire extinguisher, the wearing of high heels when it’s absolutely unnecessary, and waffles. A/N: I wrote this fic for my dear, sweet water bear’s 500 follower challenge. Congratulations, @trexrambling, you majestic sea turtle. You deserve every one of those followers and more! The situation I was given was that I would be hunting a vetala with Garth, using a fire extinguisher. I hope that I did that combination justice. As usual, my beautiful panda that I like be so much, @pinknerdpanda, was kind enough to beta this for me, so thanks to her. If you see any mistakes, it’s totally me. My old eyes ain’t what they used to be. As usual, the tags are at the bottom! If you find yourself missing or would like to be added, please shoot me an ask or a message. Feedback is always welcome!

If you like what you see here and would like to take a gander at more, my Master List is here!

I stood over the partially frozen remains of the vetala I had just stabbed, breathing heavily and with hair that had escaped my ponytail in my face. I looked slowly from the vetala to Garth, who was standing on the other side of it, still holding the fire extinguisher and grinning at me sheepishly. “Seriously, dude? Seriously?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “I thought it was worth a shot. And hey look, it worked!”

I rolled my eyes, “Yea, perfect. Thanks for that.” I looked back down at the vetala, cold fog still rolling off her body, and sighed. Sam and Dean owed me. Big time.

Earlier that day...

“Sergeant Angel speaking, what can I help ya with? Mmhmm, yes, I did send my guys there. Murray and Akroyd? Yep…No, no relation to the actors to my knowledge. Yep, give ‘em everything you've got. Great, thanks. You too, bye.” I hung up the phone and went back to making my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With Bobby gone, it had fallen to me and a couple of others to man the phones and help out when we could, and today it was my turn to lie my ass off. On occasion I wondered how many federal laws I was breaking on the almost daily, but then decided it was best to just forget about it.

I had spent most of my morning fielding calls from local police, coroners, you name it, they called me. I sat down in the living room with my sandwich and flipped on the television just in time for my favorite show. “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Nothing like a little bit of trash television to help forget about the actual trash in my life. Just as I took a giant bite out of my sandwich, my cell rang. This meant that someone that actually knew me was calling, and that usually wasn’t a good sign either. I could probably count on one hand how many times people called me to just shoot the shit. I sighed and reluctantly swiped right to answer it, “This had better be good, I’m in the middle of Jerry Springer and a damn delicious sandwich.”

“Y/N! Hey, it’s Dean.” I groaned inwardly. Definitely not good. If the Winchesters were calling, it was sure to be a pain in my ass.

“Winchester, the answer is no.” I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t even ask you anything yet!”

I took another bite of sandwich, “You didn’t have to. If you or Sam are calling, it only means a bad time,” I mumbled around the delicious peanut butter and organic jelly concoction currently assaulting my taste buds in the best way. Sam was smart, but the best thing he ever told me to try was organic jelly. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

“Why do you have to be such an ass all the time-” I heard a rustling then another voice came on the line.

“Y/N, it’s Sam.” I smiled. Truthfully, I kind of adored both of the Winchesters, but Sam...Sammy was my favorite. Although I have to admit, angry bantering with Dean got the blood flowing, that’s for sure.

“Hey, if it isn’t my favorite Winchester. What’s up, Sam?” I heard Dean grumbling in the background and I chuckled to myself, “Tell Dean jealousy doesn’t look good on him.” I heard more grumbling then the sound of the Impala door slamming shut.

Sam laughed, “I think he heard you. Anyway, it’s not us you’d actually be helping this time. Garth is kind of stuck and Dean and I are already on a case. Do you mind giving him a hand? He’s not too far from you.”

I took another bite of sandwich, “Why does Garth need my help? Doesn’t he have like a trunk full of sock puppets he can use to awkward the thing to death?” Garth was a good hunter, I’ll give him that, but the guy was kind of a loon.

Sam laughed again, “Nah, not this time. He’s pretty much got it solved but he can’t draw it out. He needs a female’s touch, apparently.”

“Color me intrigued. What’s he hunting?” I heard some tapping and I could picture Sam typing away at his laptop. There’s nothing more adorable than Sam Winchester in research mode.

“Vetala. Looks like she’s operating out of a bar about...twenty, thirty minutes from you? Not sure why he can’t get her, but he’s striking out hard.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, “He can’t draw her out because that’s a gay bar, Sam. Garth is trying to put the moves on a lesbian vetala.” I paused to take a sip of my beer, “Put that on the list of things I never thought I’d say.” I finished my sandwich, then took my plate and tossed it in the sink. I leaned against the kitchen counter, “I can help him out. Tell him to give me a couple of hours so I can get the line taken care of and I’ll head that direction.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Let us know if you need anything.”

I grinned, “Aw, Sammy, it gets me all warm and tingly when you worry about me. We’ll be fine, it’s just a couple of vetala. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I guess you’re right. Talk to you later.” He hung up and I dialed the next person on the list for the line to get it covered in my absence. After promising it wouldn’t take too long, I grabbed my go-bag from the closet and headed for my pickup.

In case you were wondering what the answer to my rhetorical question was...everything. Everything ever could possibly go wrong.

“Y/N! You’re here! Sam said you were on the way, thanks for taking the time to come!” Garth threw his arms around me and I stood there stiffly as I awkwardly patted him on the back.

“Hey, Garth. How’s...how’s it going?”

He pulled back and put his hands on his hips, “Well, I’ll tell ya, it’s been better. I’ve dealt with vetala, but these two are just...they’re being a handful, and not very cooperative. Did Sam tell you I was having trouble getting them to come out?”

I snorted, then covered it up with a cough, “Yea, Garth, he sure did. I think I might have an idea. You’re gonna need to sit down, though.”

Garth flopped down into the cheap desk chair and looked at me expectantly, “So what’s the dealio?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the guy. To be honest, he was probably the only hunter I knew that could see what he had seen and still be as happy go lucky as he was. Although it could be annoying on occasion, it was a bright spot in the shit storm I usually had to deal with. Which meant that in this particular instance, I needed to dial back the sass a little bit. “Well, Garth, Sam told me you were trying to get these vetala at a nearby bar, right? Is it called the Pussycat Club?” He nodded enthusiastically, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, “Did you...umm...did you happen to notice anything while you were in there?”

He shrugged, “A lot of beautiful women, but that’s about it. Why?”

I leaned against the table and crossed my arms, “It’s a gay bar, Garth. That’s why the vetalas aren’t going after you. Apparently they are playing for the other team….although I suppose it could be both teams and they just aren’t interested in you…” The look he gave me was a cross between surprise and hurt, and I sighed. So much for dialing back the sass. “I’m sure that’s not it though! I’ve never given lesbian vetalas much thought, but I mean why not? The supernatural can do what it wants too. Except kill people...because that part isn’t cool.” I was rambling and clearly backpedaling, but Garth smiled at me anyway.

“Lesbian vetalas. Huh. I would have never guessed that. How are we going to do this, Y/N?”

I motioned towards my bag, “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman. And as a woman, I have brought the necessary accessories to have a night out at this Pussycat Club. I just need you to be my backup, okay? I don’t know how long this is going to take, but hopefully we can wrap it up pretty quickly. I have to get back home in a reasonable amount of time. Sound good?”

Garth nodded, “Yep, sounds good to me. I assume, because of where we’re going, I can’t pretend to be your date?”

I rolled my eyes, “Kind of defeats the purpose, buddy. Now, I’m going to get ready. Take inventory, make sure our weapons are accounted for, and then we’ll head out.” I grabbed my bag and headed towards the bathroom. If I was going to get their attention, I was going to have to go all out. It was time to bust out the big guns.

“Garth, stop it,” I hissed.  I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that Garth was staring at my ass.

“I wasn’t doing anything! I just...how do you have that silver knife hidden that well? You really can’t see the outline at all-”

I whipped around and glared at him, “Your head would explode if I told you how I did it. Just know that it’s there, and that despite the fact I was planning on using it on a vetala, I will not hesitate to use it on you. Quit. Staring.” Garth took a step back and not so subtly crossed his hands in front of his crotch as if he were nervous. I smirked, proud at my ability to invoke fear with just my words, and checked my makeup in the sideview mirror of my truck one last time. I didn’t often dress up, but I had to admit I cleaned up pretty well. I adjusted the deep neckline of my dress and shook the girls, a little trick my grandmother taught me, and smiled at how great they looked. My grandma knew her shit, the saucy minx. “I’m ready. Now, I have to ask...how awkward did you make it in there? Can you go back inside or is it going to be weird?” Garth scrunched his nose and shrugged, which was enough of an answer. “.....Are you even allowed back in there?”

“It might have been mentioned that I...umm...was no longer welcome in their establishment.”

“Dammit, Garth! How are you supposed to be my backup if you aren’t even allowed to go inside-” My phone ringing interrupted me and I answered it angrily, “What do you want?”

Garth looked at me with wide eyes, “Where did you even have that phone?” he mouthed at me, and I promptly gave him the finger.

“Y/N, it’s Sam. How’s it going?”

“It would be going better if Garth knew how to act around women, gay, straight, or otherwise. Why?”

There was a beat of shocked silence before Sam answered, “Well, we hadn’t heard anything and I was just wondering-”

My patience with every male hunter I knew had come to an end, even precious Sammy. I took a deep breath, “Sam, it hasn’t even been five hours since you called me. I didn’t realize I needed to keep you up to date on my current location, but I have arrived safe and sound. I even found Garth, all on my own! And now, I’m wearing a dress that is incredibly inappropriate to wear in public, and have somehow managed to conceal at least three silver blades on my person so that I can go in there and finish a job that a man couldn’t do. Do you have anything else  you need to ask me, or can I go in there and do my job?”

Garth looked at me with wide eyes and Sam was silent. I almost felt bad for yelling at Sam, but I was already done for the evening, and my night hadn’t even started yet. “Nope, I think...I think we’re good. I guess you can...well, just let me...I’ll just talk to you later. Whenever you feel like it. Bye, Y/N.” Sam hung up and I slipped the phone back where I had hid it earlier, then looked back at Garth.

“Three blades?”

I rolled my eyes, “Shut up, Garth.” I smoothed out my dress and faced the building, “Okay, I’m going in. Keep an eye on your phone, hopefully we can get this taken care of tonight. Do you have any idea at all of who it might be?” Garth shook his head but remained silent, which was probably the smartest thing he could have done. “Great. Well, I’m pretty good at winging it. Just...turn the sound on your phone. I swear to God if I call you and you don’t answer…”

“I got it! Ringer, on!” He held the phone up with a smile. If we made it through this hunt without me murdering him, it would be a miracle.

I turned and briskly walked to the entrance without saying anything else to Garth, smiled at the doorman who was so distracted by my cleavage that he didn’t bother to ask for an ID, and headed straight to the bar. If I was going to do this, I was going to need all the alcohol. I waved down the bartender and asked for the best bourbon they had, then settled onto my stool and turned to watch the floor. Finding a vetala was not easy, even when you know what you’re looking for. It’s not like looking for a wraith where you can see their true self in a mirror, or a shifter where you can see their eyes flash on camera. You have to draw them out, get them to lose their cool for long enough to catch them off guard. If there was anything that Bobby Singer taught me about this life, it was to make damn sure of what you were killing before you killed it.

“What are you having?” I glanced to my right and saw a woman leaning against the bar. She was tall, with long black hair and eyes that were so dark they almost matched her hair. Her plain black tank top and dark leather pants were in stark contrast to her pale skin, and when she smiled, something seemed...off. I tilted my head as I gazed her. She was beautiful, and if I had a hunter’s sense that amounted to anything, she was also dangerous.

I smiled, “Bourbon.” She waved down the bartender, whispered something casually in her ear, then waved her away. When she came back, the bartender sat down an entire bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s, sat two glasses on the bar, and walked away. I looked at the bottle wide eyed, and reached out to pick it up but then put my hand down. “Is that seriously...is that a bottle of 20 year Pappy Van Winkle?” I grimaced at how awkward I sounded, but they’d just sat down a $170 bottle of bourbon, and my brain couldn’t deal with it.

“It is.” She reached out and grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap, then poured a shot each and pushed one of the glasses towards me. “You know your bourbon.”

I carefully picked up the glass and swirled the contents gently, “I know some.” I took a sip and closed my eyes as it burned all the way down. Bobby would haunt me for the rest of my days if I didn’t savor this moment. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to see the woman staring at me. “This bottle was definitely not on the shelf when I ordered earlier. How did you do that?”

The woman smiled, “I own the place. We don’t have a legit VIP section, but I like to treat the customers that intrigue me.”  

I laughed, “Intrigues you, huh? You haven’t even really talked to me yet, I could be the most unremarkable person you meet today.”

Her eyes shifted slowly from my face down to where my legs were crossed, then back up, “I highly doubt that.” I was right; vetala or not, this woman was dangerous.

I took another sip of bourbon, “Hmm. So you own this place, huh? Funny, I don’t remember seeing you in here before.”

“I just recently acquired it. The previous owner...well, they decided it would be best to sell the business. So,” she spread her hands out, “here we are. Speaking of not being seen before...I don’t recall seeing you either. I think I would remember you.”

I smiled my most charming smile, “I can blend in when I want. I don’t always want to be seen.” She moved closer to me and I realized that if I was ever going to find out if this was the vetala, I would have to make my move and quickly. I put my hand on her arm, “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more private? I’d like to get to know you better…” I raised an eyebrow and drew my bottom lip between my teeth. It had the desired effect; as soon as I did it, the woman’s eyes flashed blue. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have missed it. Bingo.

“Moira. My name is Moira.” She glanced at her watch, “I have a private office in the back, and the bar closes in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t we head back there, and then I’ll give you a ...private tour?”

I nodded, “That would be perfect.” We stood and began our walk to the back of the building. I jumped when I felt her hand slip from my lower back to my ass. She looked at me from the corner of her eye and smirked. She was good, and if I had been anyone else, I probably would have fallen for it. We came to a locked door and she opened it, motioning for me to go in first. I sat on the edge of the desk and leaned backwards as I looked around the room, “Seems like this is a pretty good gig. Pappy Van Winkle, nice office, maybe I should go into the bar business.”

Moira laughed, “Yea, well, not everyone is as successful at it. It’s hard work and I’m good at what I do.” She walked up to the desk and shoved herself between my knees.

I raised an eyebrow, “You could at least take a girl out to dinner first.”

Moira ran a thumb across my cheekbone and smiled, “I don’t have to take a girl out to dinner to get what I want. Like I said, I’m good at what I do.”

I leaned in closer and brushed my lips over the shell of her ear, “Unfortunately for you, so am I,” I whispered.

She looked at me sharply and then gasped as the cold silver of my dagger penetrated her heart. Her irises went back to blue before her eyelids slipped shut and I shoved her backwards. She hit the floor with a dull thud, and I retrieved my phone from its hiding place.

“Heyo, Y/N! What’s crackin’?”

“Your skull if you don’t cut it out, you weirdo. I got one of them, but I have no idea who the second one is. There’s always a second one. The bar closes in about ten minutes, so keep an eye out for anyone that looks sketchy when they leave. Once the bar looks empty, sneak inside. I might need you.”

“Okey dokey, artichokey! See you in a few!” I rolled my eyes and hung up. I walked over to the door and opened it slowly. The hallway was too long for me to get a good look at what the club’s floor looked like, so I shut the door and stood over Moira’s body. I needed to hide her until we could take care of the second vetala. I dragged her behind the desk and wiped my hands on my dress. There was a reason I wore a black dress tonight.

The sound of my phone ringing interrupted my thoughts, “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Dean.”

I sighed, “I am in the middle of taking care of this. What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing, just wanted to check in. Sam’s been pouting since you yelled at him, wanted to make sure you weren’t too stressed. You don’t usually yell at Sammy. Me, all the time. Sammy, not so much.”

“Yea, and I’m about to yell at you some more. Listen, I’ve already got one vetala, but I still have to find the other one and it’s going to be a miracle if I take care of it without flashing everything God gave me. I am tired, and annoyed, and you literally have the worst timing. I will call you when I’m finished, okay? Great.” I heard him start to protest, but I hung up before I had to listen to it. I looked at the clock; the club was closed and should have started to empty. I slipped out of the office and down the hallway back into the main room. Although the lights were still off, most of the room was empty except for the bartender who looked up at the sound of my footsteps.

“What are you still doing in here?”

I walked up to the bar and sat down, “Moira was going to show me around the place but she disappeared. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

The girl shook her head, “Nah, not since she took you to the back. I’m surprised she left you though, not really her style. She likes to show her favorite guests a good time.”

I shrugged, “Hmm...maybe she changed her mind about me. Maybe I really am unremarkable.” I pouted and looked up at the bartender through my eyelashes. She was staring at me and I tilted my head. “What do you think? Do you think I’m unremarkable?”

She walked around the end of the bar and leaned against the worn wood, “Well, I don’t know you very well, but judging by what you’re wearing...you’re too ballsy to be too unremarkable.”

I laughed, “Hmm...maybe you’re right. What’s your name?”

“Lacey, what’s yours?”

“Y/N.” I leaned forward and watched her eyes move from my face down to my chest.

“Yea...definitely not unremarkable.” She looked back up and smiled, “Do you want to get out of here? Moira will probably kill me, but finders keepers, am I right?”

I bit my lip, “You certainly have a way with words, Lacey.” I moved closer and pressed myself against her, “A confident woman gets me all kinds of riled up, and here you are just taking what you want, your boss be damned. It’s...it’s pretty hot.” I started to reach for her, but she pulled back suddenly and I nearly fell off my stool. “What’s wrong?”

“Is that...is that blood on your arm?”

I looked at her with wide eyes, “What do you mean, blood? Why would I have blood on my arm?” I glanced down to where her eyes rested and lo and behold...blood. I must have gotten it when I dragged Moira behind the desk. I sighed, “Dammit.”

“Moira didn’t leave, did she?” I looked up to see Lacey’s eyes were an ice blue and that she’d magically grown a new set of teeth.

“No, Lacey, she didn’t. I mean, not physically. Spiritually though, she’s in the great in between, Purgatory, the place where monsters go when they die.” I hopped down from the stool and slipped out one of the silver blades.

Lacey looked at me in surprise, “Where the hell did that come from?”

I grinned, “Your head would explode if I told you. Now, are you going to make this easy for me, or are you gonna-” Lacey lashed out before I could finish and knocked the blade from my hand as she pushed me backwards. Nobody really tells you the cons of wearing heels to a hunt. I guess it’s because they assume a hunter wouldn’t be dumb enough to do that, and normally I would agree with that sentiment. It just hadn't really occurred to me until my ass hit the ground, hard.

“-make this difficult.” I managed to groan out. Lacey came at me, and I pulled out another blade.

“Seriously, where the hell are you keeping those?”

I kicked my heels off and jumped up, “A girl doesn’t reveal her secrets.” We circled each other and I vaguely wondered where Garth was. I had to admit, I’d been lucky with Moira. I should have known the second one wouldn’t be as easy. And here I thought Moira was the one I should be worried about. I charged at Lacey, hoping to knock her off balance, but she was faster and managed to grab me and throw me into the bar. I hit the wood hard and slid down into the floor again. “Jesus, you aren’t fooling around, are you? You mad that I killed your girlfriend? Or are you mad because she liked me better than you? I feel like there’s a lot of pent up aggression here, Lacey. Maybe you just need to talk about it.” She dove at me and I managed to roll out of the way, slicing her across the arm with my knife.

She shrieked as she clutched at her burning flesh, “She didn’t like any of those girls more than me! It was how we fed, nothing more.”

I laughed, “Sure, sweetie, keep telling yourself that. Because I’m here to tell you, I think she wanted a piece of ass as much as she wanted a free meal.” I winked at her and she screamed as she charged me again. I moved, but not quite fast enough, and she managed to hip check me into a table. The blade I was holding flew out of my hand as the table flipped over and I went over the side of it. “Son of a bitch!” I rolled across the floor and onto my feet, my chest heaving, and glared at Lacey, “Listen, I wasn’t even supposed to be here. This was supposed to be easy, and you’re starting to piss me off. Just let it happen, dude. You know how this is going to end. I killed your partner, I’m gonna kill you. I’m getting too old for this shit, just stand still!”

Lacey rolled her eyes, “Yea, like I’m just going to let you kill me. I’m not suicidal, and news flash! Vetalas might hunt in pairs, but it’s not like we mate for life. I’ll just find someone else. I was getting bored with Moira anyway.” She grinned, “You don’t even have any more knives. There is no way you’ve got anymore hidden under that poor excuse of a dress.” She walked towards me slowly and I looked around for something to at least beat her with. I was in the mood for some ass kicking, and Garth leaving me hanging was not helping.

“You’d be surprised what I could hide in this dress. Too bad you’ll be too dead for me to teach you.” She ran at me again and I grabbed her by the hair. “Seriously? Not gonna let up are you?” She punched me in the ribs and I managed to land one across her cheekbone as I yanked her head back by the hair. As we grappled, I noticed movement behind Lacey. She realized I was distracted and kneed me in the stomach. I fell to the floor, the air knocked out of me, and she stood over me as if to gloat.

“I’m not gonna let up. I’m gonna be the one that walks out of here. Sorry, but it’s every woman for herself.” She grabbed me by my ponytail and hauled me up and out of the floor, “I’ll make it quick, alright? I like your tenacity. I’ll just snap your neck and it’ll be lights out, sound good?”

“Sure. Sounds like a plan...except I think maybe you took too long monologuing. You should probably make sure of your surroundings before you go off on a rambling tangent.”

“What?” I nodded over her shoulder and she turned to look. Just as she did, Garth pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher he’d found and nailed her in the face with it. It gave me just enough time to pull out my last blade, plunge it into her heart, and twist. I let go of her and she dropped to the floor. I stood over the partially frozen remains of the vetala I had just stabbed, breathing heavily and with hair that had escaped my ponytail in my face.

I looked slowly from Lacey to Garth, who was standing on the other side of her, still holding the fire extinguisher and grinning at me sheepishly. “Seriously, dude? Seriously?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “I thought it was worth a shot. And hey look, it worked!”

I rolled my eyes, “Yea, perfect. Thanks for that.” I looked back down at Lacey, cold fog still rolling off her body, and sighed. Sam and Dean owed me. Big time.

I pulled out my phone, this time allowing Garth to see where I’d stashed it and hid a grin as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. I scrolled through my contacts, found the one I wanted, and hit dial.

“Hello?”

“Dean, it’s done. Both vetalas are dead and accounted for, no thanks to Garth.”

“Hey, I used the fire extinguisher-”

“Shut up, Garth. Anyway, it’s done. You guys owe me big time.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Any time I have to leave my house and deal with a handsy vetala, it’s not great, okay? Not my ideal date. Speaking of which, you owe me.”

I could practically hear Dean grinning over the phone, “A date, huh? I could arrange that-”

“Not with you, jerk.”

“Aww man, with Sam?” He whined, “He’s not really your favorite, is he? Come on!”

“You can tell Sam he’s on the list, but at this particular moment, no. Get me a date with the red headed friend of yours, and we’re square.”

There was a beat of silence as if Dean was carefully weighing his next words, “Charlie? You want a date...with Charlie?”

“Yep. And tell Sam the next time I’m feeling frisky, he can come pick me up. We’ll….I don’t know, do research, jog, whatever it is that gets his motor running. But for now, the primary objective is that cute little LARPer. Get on that, and like I said...we’re square.”

“But what about-”

“Bye, Dean.” I hung up on him and looked at Garth, who was still looking at me like I’d grown a second head. “Despite your lack of assistance, and a pitiful excuse of helpfulness at that, I find that I wouldn’t mind having some late night waffles with ya, Garth. Fighting makes me hungry, you game?” He nodded slowly. “Good, now come on. You’re driving.” I picked up my shoes and walked out of the building.

Someone else could clean up the mess. There were waffles to be eaten.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda  @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud

[mmwm]

Yesterday, spouse and I went to Kezar Lake in Sutton NH, as we often do, but instead of us both walking around it, this time he brought his canoe. He took off from the inlet, after checking in with the Lake Host on the other side of the lake (the Lake Host is there to check for invasive species that could be tagging along on watercraft), and paddled an almost-straight trajectory through the marshy area — and over two small beaver dams, where he had a surprise encounter with a large snapping turtle — across the lake to the beach side, while I meanwhile walked the 3-mile road around the lake.

During the entire hour my walk took (his paddle was considerably shorter), the sound of a speeding motor boat with water-skier was grating on my eardrums like fingernails on a chalkboard. Among perhaps 10 canoists, kayakers, people fishing in bass boats, and folks in slow moving pontoon boats was this one power boat, zipping and circling around the lake, apparently heedless of the two adult loons and one chick in the water.

I watched the boat almost drive right over on adult loon. I couldn’t get the bow number on the boat, unfortunately, because while power boats are allowed on the small lake, harassing loons by being too close to them is illegal.

So dismay, anger, fear for the loons, frustration were coursing through my veins, and the noise of the clamorous power boat ringing in my ears. (I realise it doesn’t bother lots of people, but it bothers me. Sort of like the effect of Mary Hart’s voice on Kramer, in Seinfeld)

Then I watched a young (10-ish) boy in the water with a large (beautiful) doberman dog, pretending to shoot it repeatedly with a stick close to the dog’s face, then splashing water on the dog’s face. The dog seemed unsure what to do, moving away from the boy but not entirely out of the water, barking once or twice, not seeming to know how to respond. If there were parents nearby, they did nothing to stop what seemed to me like taunting behaviour. The dog seem confused, the boy persisted, and I felt sad watching this interaction.

Then I rounded the corner,  where a slightly older man, walking the opposite direction, jokingly (I guess?) said, “You’re only halfway done!” My response and the set of my mouth was apparently not what he felt they should be, because he followed up with “Smile, young lady!”

If you know me, you know I don’t swear aloud much, but with the motor boat sound, the recklessness of the boat and the danger to the loons, the way I interpreted the dog interaction, I was this close to telling him to STFU. Instead, because I know that reaction would be unkind, rude, and not compassionate, on the one hand, and I also know it would be escalatory and potentially dangerous on the other hand, I kept walking, serious face and all, angry, downhearted, and disquieted. Definitely not smiling.

When I had earlier met this man on the other side of the lake, with no other people around, and he had boomed out “Hello there!” in a sort of odd way (I felt), I’d had a slight frisson of discomfort, and now I was very thankful I was near the beach, among a small crowd people, even the taunting boy and his lax parents, because I know that what can follow non-compliance to the command “Smile, young lady!” is verbal abuse, attempts at intimidation, or worse.

I left that encounter walking fast (-er than usual) and furious, eventually breathing normally again, eventually letting my senses take over, smelling the air, observing what was around me, feeling the road and my ligaments and muscles as I moved, listening for the bird calls through the sound of the power boat.

A half-mile later or so, I encountered this lovely Yellow Wooly Bear (Spilosoma virginica), who obligingly curled itself around my offered clover stem so I could move it off the road.

Then later a white admiral butterfly (Limenitis arthemis … there is also a red-spotted purple form of the same species) —

And this interesting fungus formation —

*

I realise that some folks (even some women) don’t understand why many women react so strongly to being told to “smile.” They don’t understand how it’s patronising and demeaning, this auditing and evaluating (by complete strangers!) of another person’s emotions, this assertion of a right to control someone else’s emotions or the way those emotions show up on their face.  Here’s some help for those folks:

The Sexism of Telling Women To Smile, in Atlantic: “I couldn’t imagine that my facial expression should affect strangers in any way. I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to just go about life smiling at nothing all the time. It’s pretty nonsensical. Why would I smile for the duration of a 30-minute walk?  I felt it was very much about them, not me — as if my facial expression was a reflection of them, I wasn’t a whole person with thoughts and feelings of my own, and I was put on this earth to reassure men they were adequate on a daily basis. And I was viscerally aware that this rule only applied to me because I was female.”

Men, we need to stop telling women to ‘Smile!’ by Matthew Hansen in the Dallas News : “”You really should smile,” a man will say. Or: “Why you so mad? Smile!” Or: “You’re pretty. You would be prettier if you smiled.” In this moment, Rosie Meegan is faced with a choice that nearly all women recognize, and a choice of which most men are blissfully unaware. She can smile, even though a male stranger telling her to smile makes her feel the exact opposite of smiley. Or she can say no and potentially face his wrath. … ‘It assumes that I’m a decoration in your life, an ornament, here to give you pleasure.’ … By my count, I have talked to 19 women about ‘Smile!’ All 19 said it has happened to them. Most said it happens regularly. All 19 said they don’t like it. In some cases it’s simply grating. In other cases, it carries a vaguely menacing undertone — fear is a main reason women do force a smile, women told me. Most depressingly, all 19 women I spoke to considered it a fact of life, part of the tax that women must pay. And here I am, drifting through days during which no one ever requests that I change facial expression.”

Nope, from Shakesville: “Telling people to ‘smile’ and/or ‘laugh’ is not, in fact, nice. Telling people how to behave is an assertion of ownership; it is disdainful of individual agency, a failure to acknowledge boundaries and autonomy. That auditing other people’s emotions could be considered ‘nice’ is absurd.” (She’s responding to a “Do Something Nice” campaign in Vancouver, which is why she keeps using the word ‘nice.'”)

Tatyana Fazlalizadeh’s “Stop Telling Women to Smile” street art project: “I am not here for you.”

*

I have male friends (and a few older female friends) who sometimes make it known that they like it (me?) more when I smile (e.g., if I post a non-smiling photo on Facebook, I usually get at least one “Where’s that pretty smile?” or “I’d rather see you smiling” comment). I’m ambivalent about that — when it’s actual people who know me and really might have my best interest at heart, who really might feel sad because I look sad — but my response is totally unambivalent when a stranger on the street instructs me to look or feel the way he wants me to: I’m not here for you.

Yes, being told to smile — generally by men who are only acting on what they’ve learned and internalised, who aren’t intending harm — is a minor thing compared with the kinds of oppression, suppression, violence, and the threat of violence that many people face daily. Everything is relative. But it is a regular reminder for many women that being pretty, seeming attainable and non-threatening, looking agreeable and cheerful no matter what we feel, are what’s expected of us as full-fledged autonomous human beings in this culture, and that when those cultural expectations aren’t met — when we don’t smile on command or if we respond with something benign like “No thanks, I don’t feel like it” — men may retaliate with slurs, intimidation, threats, verbal abuse, and rarely (I hope), physical abuse. As one of the women in the Atlantic article says, just being told to smile makes us feel watched and vulnerable. Being called “bitch!” when we don’t smile makes us feel worse.

A woman quoted in the Dallas News article says that though she used to force a smile in response, and apologize, and feel bad about herself without understanding why, now she “she doesn’t smile on command, even though she’s risking the possibility that the benevolent sexism will turn into something worse — the hostility often reserved for women who refuse to accept gender norms.”

I guess that’s where I am, unwilling to smile on command; it’s certainly where I was yesterday, when I was feeling dismayed by humans and our wanton aggression and destructiveness. And I don’t want to add to the culture’s already high level of resentment, aggression, and anger by rudely rebuffing a probably well-meant (or at least unthinking) attempt at encouragement; but on the other hand, I think I have a right to look and feel the way I do, without being told to change because a stranger is uncomfortable with it.

Being told to smile leaves me with no good option here — either I ignore it, probably appearing rude and dismissive; or I react angrily, which will almost surely evoke resentment and retaliation (toward me or a convenient scapegoat); or I smile or make a joke — one woman says “I’m trying to cut down” when men tell her to smile — but that seems to me a capitulation equal to smiling on command, seeking to help him feel comfortable about her demeanor — and in fact her being.

So men (and a few women), please, please stop telling strangers, and even acquaintances and coworkers, to smile. If we’re looking serious, sad, angry, upset, dismayed, or anxious, we probably are, and you’re not going to turn that frown upside down by force or by even by suggestion. If you want us to really smile, give us a reason to do it: do something kind, say something genuinely funny, or just smile at us without expecting repayment in kind.  Thanks.

Black-eyed Susans along road

    Walking, Not Smiling Yesterday, spouse and I went to Kezar Lake in Sutton NH, as we often do, but instead of us both walking around it, this time he brought his canoe.