#i had to go outside yesterday to get a package off the porch it was fuckin crazy

[coquelicoq]

i love this cat so much she is such a dumbass 😭 and she keeps coming over to lie on my stomach and purr. perfect creature

[toyama-division]

It was early in the morning when Asato's alarm clock went off, signaling it was time for him to get up and get ready for another day on his family's farm. Groaning, the green-haired farm boy rubbed the inside of his eyelids, still exhausted. Normally, he tried to go to bed early around nine, so he could get about seven hours of sleep. However, he made the mistake of stuffing himself with that melon cake he had been gifted from his friends at Edogawa, which made it hard for him to fall asleep. No doubt all that sugar was going to slow him down in the fields today.

Sighing as he knew there was no getting around it, he stood up from his bed and slowly got himself ready. By the time the half-hour mark came around, he was prepared to get to work, though he was moving rather sluggishly. Passing by the front entrance, he looked at the door out of the corner of his eye before continuing on his way. However, he soon stopped and took a look back at it. Though he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, he could have sworn he saw a shadow or something outside.

Opening the front door, Asato's eyes grew wide as sitting on the front porch were two packages, both addressed to him. Placing the smaller of the two on top of the larger one, he lugged both boxes inside, placing them on the table of his kitchen. Deciding to open the smaller of the two, he opened the box, peering within.

A birthday cake, not surprising since yesterday was Asato's birthday. The farmer knew he was going to have hide this somewhere since his grandmother was already a bit peeved at the unfinished cake Kanra had sent him yesterday. Thinking on that later, he turned to the larger of the boxes and opened that one as well.

Asato's eyes grew as inside was a... a homemade yakisoba kit, his favorite dish to make and eat. What's more, all of the food looked prepared, save for the fact that all of it was cold. Though that was nothing a minute or two in the microwave wouldn't fix. There was even a birthday note that came with the box. Picking it up, the farmer read it:

'Dear Asato-kun,

Happy belated birthday. My dearest apologies for sending these gifts so late, but lately work at the restaurant has been never-ending. I imagine things must be hard for you on the farm since autumn is typically when most crops are harvested. I don't envy for having to work outside at this time of the year. But anyway, I managed to whip these dishes up last night when I got home from work. I recall you mentioning you hadn't had any yakisoba in a while, so I decided to make you a homemade kit. All of the food is done, you just have to warm it up. I hope you enjoy it. Again, a happy belated birthday to you. I hope to see you around Aoyama some time.

Sincerely,

Luis Kōkyū'

In the moment Asato considered himself lucky to have such talented friends. The timing of the food was perfect too. Despite the fact he was making slow progress into his ordinary workday, food was on his mind. And lunch was something he wanted to plot on next... Thankfully, it appeared that wasn't needed now that food had appeared at his door.

Unquestioning how it had gotten there, Asato brought the food in and carried the box into the kitchen. Reading the card, he made a mental note that he should make an effort to visit Aoyama soon. He knew his grandmother would like to do the same, to catch up with Luis's grandma as well.

"At least he held back this year."

Asato jumps a little at his grandmother's comment, looking down at her with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"After seeing that cake the little girl had made for you yesterday, I was worried Luis-kun was going to send something even bigger."

"Bigger..." Asato drools a little at the thought of more cake, only to hear his grandma scold him harshly.

"Don't get any ideas! Now come on, put the food away. You can eat it when lunch rolls around."

"...Yeah. Sure."

Thank you for the gift! Btw what do the old ladies talk about... Probably teasing the hell out of their grandsons, I imagine-

[themysterycrewau]

The Button Key | Chapter 2: The Doll

Prev | Next | Learn about the AU here! | Read it on Ao3!

“I almost fell down a well yesterday, Mom.” 

“Uh Huh.” 

“I would have died.” 

“That’s nice.” 

Coraline hummed at that, knowing that her mother was not listening to her… as usual. She stared outside the kitchen window above the sink, placing different seed packets on the windowsill. She then had an idea, smirking as she turned towards her mother, who was typing away on her computer. Her mother, Mel, had short black hair and brown eyes and was wearing a pale pink turtleneck with a neck brace around it, and gray yoga pants. 

“So can I go out? I think it’s perfect weather for gardening.” 

“No, Coraline. Rain makes mud. Mud makes a mess.”  

She stomped her foot at that before glaring at her mother, slamming her hands on the worn, faded kitchen table. “Mom, I want stuff growing when my friends come to visit. Isn’t that why we moved here?” 

“Something like that.” Mel then sighed, then raised an eyebrow at her daughter, gesturing to her neckbrace. “But then we had the accident.”  

Coraline’s mouth turned into a growl, she could not believe what she was hearing. 

“It wasn’t my fault you hit that truck-!”

“I never said it was.”  

The 13-year-old scoffed and turned away, scratching the poison oak on her hand. “I can’t believe it.” She mutters. “You and Dad get paid to write about plants and you hate dirt.” 

“Coraline,” Her mother huffed, stopping her typing and closing her eyes for a split second, beginning to lose her patience with her daughter. “I don’t have time for you right now. And you still have unpacking to do.” She then glared at her. “ Lots of unpacking.”

“That sounds exciting, ” Coraline said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Her mother then blinked, reaching down beside her. “Oh – Some kids left this on the front porch.”  

She handed her the newspaper-wrapped package, making the teen look at it questioningly, she read the note taped on it. 

Hey Jonsey, look what the Pines and I found in Gramma’s trunk. Look familiar?  - Wybie, Dipper, & Mabel

She groaned at this, rolling her eyes. She couldn’t escape those weird kids, could she? Unwrapping the newspaper, she felt chills go down her spine. “Huh…” 

It was a doll that looked exactly like Coraline, right down to the iconic yellow raincoat and lucky dragonfly clip she wore, making her raise an eyebrow in question. “A little me? That’s weird.” 

“What’s their name, anyway?” Her mother asked, back to typing on her laptop. 

“Dipper, Mabel, and Wybie.” She said in a mocking tone, dropping the newspaper to the floor, and taking her doll with her as she walked past her mom. “And I’m way too old for dolls.” 

Her mother rolls her eyes at that. 

Coraline then decided to see what her father was up to, so she opened the door to the study, watching her father, Charlie, who had thinning dark hair, a green sweater, and blue jeans, typing away on his computer too. 

“Hey Dad, how’s the writing going?” She asked, rocking back and forth on her heels, before sighing. “Dad?” 

He looked into the reflection of the monitor, finally acknowledging her presence. “Hello, Coraline… and Coraline doll?” He then looked at her and shrugged, going back to his typing.

“Do you know where the garden tools are?”  

“It’s… pouring out there, isn’t it?” 

She scoffed at that. “It’s just raining.” Making him hum. “What’d the boss say?”  

“‘Don’t even think about going out, Coraline Jones’!” She mocked her mother, yelling at her doll. He smirked at that. “Then you won’t need the tools.” 

Coraline groaned at that, her plan failing. She pushed the door away in annoyance, hearing a loud annoying squeaking noise emit from it, making her smirk before doing it again, and again, and again, and again until her father finally groaned and spun around in his chair, facing the smirking Coraline. 

“You know, this house is a hundred and fifty years old. ” 

“So?” 

“So explore it!” He grabbed a pen and notebook pad off his desk and handed them to Coraline. “Go out and… count all the doors and windows and write that down. List everything that’s blue! Just let me work. ” 

He said, turning around back to his computer, typing away, making Coraline growl and turn away, taking her doll with her and unbuttoning her raincoat, revealing her pink striped shirt. She tossed her rain jacket on the floor in the hall, almost tripping on a bump in the carpet, so she tried to jump on it to flatten it, but failed every time, she rolled her eyes at this and continued on.

She continued to walk around the entirety of the house and list what she found on the small notepad, finally stopping in the living room, putting her doll on the coffee table, giving it a kind smile before unboxing her snowglobes and placing them on the mantle, feeling homesick already. She then began staring up at a painting above the fireplace mantel. She started to write it down on the pad. “One boring blue boy in a painfully boring painting….” 

Coraline then began to count the windows as well. “...Four incredibly boring windows… And no… more… doors…” She then went to reach for her doll, but it wasn’t there, so she started to look around. “All right, little me, where are you hiding?” 

She soon turned and tilted her head in confusion once she found it.

It was peeking out behind a large cardboard box. 

She reached for it, ready to just pull it out and move on until she spotted something on the wall behind the box. She pushed the box out of the way and marveled at what she had found. 

It was a small door, covered in wallpaper. 

“Hey, mom!” She called out for her. “Where does this door go?” 

“I’m really, really busy!” 

Coraline ignored her response, tracing her finger over the keyhole. “I think it’s locked.”

No response back. 

“PLEEEEASE!” 

Mel groaned at this, scooting away from her computer and stomping towards the living room, crossing her arms and glaring at her daughter before looking at the small door. “Will you stop pestering me if I do this for you?” 

Coraline put on her best puppy dog eyes, whimpering while nodding her head, making her mom huff at that. “Fine!”

She went back into the kitchen, ripping open and kitchen door full of keys and going through them, and picking up a black, metal key that had a button shape on the end, she raised an eyebrow at it before going back to the door, where Coraline was giddy with anticipation as her mother cuts the wallpaper around the door, and as soon as she puts the key in the keyhole and unlocks the door and swings it open… Her face falls. 

“Bricks? I don’t get it.” She wines, looking down. 

It was true. The doorway was sealed up with bricks. 

Her mom soon sighed and looked at her. “They must have closed this off when they divided up the house.” She explained as she got back up and started heading towards the kitchen. 

“You're kidding? And why is the door so small?” 

Mel whipped back around to glare at her daughter. “We made a deal. ZIP IT!” She growled before going back to the kitchen, leaving the 13-year-old to blink at the entryway. “You didn't lock it.” 

“UGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” 

She blinked in surprise at that, hearing her mother throw the key back in the drawer before she sighed once more, turning back to the door with a sad look before slamming it shut. 

Just another boring thing in this boring house

Oh, my twitchy witchy girl

I think you are so nice,

I give you bowls of porridge

And I give you bowls of ice cream! 

Coraline’s father finished singing as he tossed a helping of burnt, mushy, vegetable casserole onto his daughter’s plate as she groaned, disgusted by it as she pushed it away, her doll sitting next to her. “Why don't you ever cook, Mom?” She questioned as she folded her arms and rested them on the table. 

Her mother rolled her eyes at this. “Coraline, we've been through this before: your Dad cooks, I clean, and you stay out of the way.”  

Coraline let out another groan at that. 

“I swear,” Mel said, raising her hand. “I'll go food shopping soon as we finish the catalog.” She soon pushed the plate back towards her daughter. “Try some of the chard, you need a vegetable.” 

The 13-year-old picked up her fork and picked at it, watching it fall back on her plate into sludge. “Looks more like slime to me.” 

“Well, it's slime or bedtime, fusspot.” Her father told her. “Now what's it going to be?”

She soon turned to her doll. “Think they're trying to poison me?” She asked it, making it nod its head yes before she sighed and leaned back in her chair. 

She decided to go with bedtime, so she had done her nightly chores and changed into her favorite orange pajamas, and was now in her room. She scratched her hand mindlessly as she looked around the room.

Boxes laying around that she did not unpack, gray, dull walls, and a single light hanging up in her room. The only thing that made the room even the slightest bit better was her origami dragonflies strewn across her bed and her blue lamp that strew lights of stars and crescent moons around the room. She fell back on her bed and reached over to her nightstand, picking up a green picture frame of her old friends back in Michigan. 

They got a hold of her old school’s marquee letters and spelled out 'CORALINE, GOODBYE!' . The picture made her smile, even if it was just by a tiny bit before she frowned and said; “Don't forget about me, guys. Okay?” 

Coraline put the picture back before placing the doll on the chair next to her bed and got under her covers, she smiled at it. “Goodnight...little me.” Before turning over to go to bed, slowly fell into a dreamless sleep. 

… Until some small squeaking had woken her up. 

[maki-matsurra]

The Mystery Crew | Chapter 2: The Doll

Prev | Next (Coming Soon!)

Read it on Ao3!

Want to send in a request? Start here!

“I almost fell down a well yesterday, Mom.”

“Uh Huh.”

“I would have died.”

“That’s nice.”

Coraline hummed at that, knowing that her mother was not listening to her… as usual. She stared outside the kitchen window above the sink, placing different seed packets on the windowsill. She then had an idea, smirking as she turned towards her mother, who was typing away on her computer. Her mother, Mel, had short black hair and brown eyes and was wearing a pale pink turtleneck with a neck brace around it, and gray yoga pants.

“So can I go out? I think it’s perfect weather for gardening.”

“No, Coraline. Rain makes mud. Mud makes a mess.”

She stomped her foot at that before glaring at her mother, slamming her hands on the round, worn, and faded kitchen table. “Mom, I want stuff growing when my friends come to visit. Isn’t that why we moved here?”

“Something like that.” Mel then sighed, then raised an eyebrow at her daughter, gesturing to her neckbrace. “But then we had the accident.”

Coraline’s mouth turned into a growl, she could not believe what she was hearing.

“It wasn’t my fault you hit that truck-!”

“I never said it was.”

The 13-year-old scoffed and turned away, scratching the poison oak on her hand. “I can’t believe it.” She mutters. “You and Dad get paid to write about plants and you hate dirt.”

“Coraline,” Her mother huffed, stopping her typing and closing her eyes for a split second, beginning to lose her patience with her daughter. “I don’t have time for you right now. And you still have unpacking to do.” She then glared at her. “Lots of unpacking.”

“That sounds exciting,” Coraline said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Her mother then blinked, reaching down beside her. “Oh – Some kids left this on the front porch.”

She handed her the newspaper-wrapped package, making the teen look at it questioningly, she read the note taped on it.

Hey Jonsey, look what the Pines and I found in Gramma’s trunk. Look familiar? - Wybie, Dipper, & Mabel

She groaned at this, rolling her eyes. She couldn’t escape those weird kids, could she? Unwrapping the newspaper, she felt chills go up her spine. “Huh…”

It was a doll that looked exactly like Coraline, right down to the iconic yellow raincoat and lucky dragonfly clip she wore, making her raise an eyebrow in question. “A little me? That’s weird.”

“What’s their name, anyway?” Her mother asked, back to typing on her laptop.

“Dipper, Mabel, and Wybie.” She said in a mocking tone, dropping the newspaper to the floor, and taking her doll with her as she walked past her mom. “And I’m way too old for dolls.”

Her mother rolls her eyes at that.

Coraline then decided to see what her father was up to, so she opened the door to the study, watching her father, Charlie, who had thinning dark hair, a green sweater, and blue jeans, typing away on his computer too.

“Hey Dad, how’s the writing going?” She asked, rocking back and forth on her heels, before sighing. “Dad?”

He looked into the reflection of the monitor, finally acknowledging her presence. “Hello, Coraline… and Coraline doll?” He then looked at her and shrugged, going back to his typing.

“Do you know where the garden tools are?”

“It’s… pouring out there, isn’t it?”

She scoffed at that. “It’s just raining.” Making him hum. “What’d the boss say?”

“‘Don’t even think about going out, Coraline Jones’!” She mocked her mother, yelling at her doll. He smirked at that. “Then you won’t need the tools.”

Coraline groaned at that, her plan failing. She pushed the door away in annoyance, hearing a loud annoying squeaking noise emit from it, making her smirk before doing it again, and again, and again, and again until her father finally groaned and spun around in his chair, facing the smirking Coraline.

“You know, this house is a hundred and fifty years old.”

“So?”

“So explore it!” He grabbed a pen and notebook pad off his desk and handed it to Coraline. “Go out and… count all the doors and windows and write that down. List everything that’s blue! Just let me work.”

He said, turning around back to his computer, typing away, making Coraline growl and turn away, taking her doll with her and unbuttoning her raincoat, revealing her pink striped shirt. She tossed her rain jacket on the floor in the hall, almost tripping on a bump in the carpet, so she tried to jump on it to flatten it, but failed every time, she rolled her eyes at this and continued on.

She continued to list and walk around the entirety of the house, finally stopping in the living room, putting her doll on the coffee table, giving it a kind smile before unboxing her snowglobes and placing them on the mantle, feeling homesick already. She then began staring up at a painting above the fireplace mantel. She started to write it down on the pad. “One boring blue boy in a painfully boring painting….”

Coraline then began to count the windows as well. “...Four incredibly boring windows… And no… more… doors…” She then went to reach for her doll, but it wasn’t there, so she started to look around. “All right, little me, where are you hiding?”

She soon turned and tilted her head in confusion once she found it.

It was peeking out behind a large cardboard box.

She reached for it, ready to just pull it out and move on until she spotted something on the wall behind the box. She pushed the box out of the way and marveled at what she had found.

It was a small door, covered in wallpaper.

“Hey, mom!” She called out for her. “Where does this door go?”

“I’m really, really busy!”

Coraline ignored her response, tracing her finger over the keyhole. “I think it’s locked.”

No response back.

“PLEEEEASE!”

Mel groaned at this, scooting away from her computer and stomping towards the living room, crossing her arms and glaring at her daughter before looking at the small door. “Will you stop pestering me if I do this for you?”

Coraline put on her best puppy dog eyes, whimpering while nodding her head, making her mom huff at that. “Fine!”

She went back into the kitchen, ripping open and kitchen door full of keys and going through them, and picking up a black, metal key that had a button shape on the end, she raised an eyebrow at it before going back to the door, where Coraline was giddy with anticipation as her mother cuts the wallpaper around the door, and as soon as she puts the key in the keyhole and unlocks the door and swings it open… Her face falls.

“Bricks? I don’t get it.” She wines, looking down.

It was true. The doorway was sealed up with bricks.

Her mom soon sighed and looked at her. “They must have closed this off when they divided up the house.” She explained as she got back up and started heading towards the kitchen.

“You're kidding? And why is the door so small?”

Mel whipped back around to glare at her daughter. “We made a deal. ZIP IT!” She growled before going back to the kitchen, leaving the 13-year-old to blink at the entryway. “You didn't lock it.”

“UGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

She blinked in surprise at that, hearing her mother throw the key back in the drawer before she sighed once more, turning back to the door with a sad look before slamming it shut.

Just another boring thing in this boring house.

————————————————————

Oh, my twitchy witchy girl

I think you are so nice,

I give you bowls of porridge

And I give you bowls of ice cream!

Coraline’s father finished singing as he tossed a helping of burnt, mushy, vegetable casserole onto his daughter’s plate as she groaned, disgusted by it as she pushed it away, her doll sitting next to her. “Why don't you ever cook, Mom?” She questioned as she folded her arms and rested them on the table.

Her mother rolled her eyes at this. “Coraline, we've been through this before: your Dad cooks, I clean, and you stay out of the way.”

Coraline let out another groan at that.

“I swear,” Mel said, raising her hand. “I'll go food shopping soon as we finish the catalog.” She soon pushed the plate back towards her daughter. “Try some of the chard, you need a vegetable.”

The 13-year-old picked up her fork and picked at it, watching it fall back on her plate into sludge. “Looks more like slime to me.”

“Well, it's slime or bedtime, fusspot.” Her father told her. “Now what's it going to be?”

She soon turned to her doll. “Think they're trying to poison me?” She asked it, making it nod its head yes before she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

She decided to go with bedtime, so she had done her nightly chores and changed into her favorite orange pajamas, and was now in her room. She scratched her hand mindlessly as she looked around the room.

Boxes laying around that she did not unpack, gray, dull walls, and a single light hanging up in her room. The only thing that made the room even the slightest bit better was her origami dragonflies strewn across her bed and her blue lamp that strew lights of stars and crescent moons around the room. She fell back on her bed and reached over to her nightstand, picking up a green picture frame with her old friends back in Michigan.

They were able to get a hold of her old school’s marquee letters and had spelled out "CORALINE, GOOD BYE!". The picture made her smile, even if it was just by a small bit before she frowned and said; “Don't forget about me, guys. Okay?”

Coraline put the picture back before placing the doll on the chair next to her bed and got under her covers, she smiled at it. “Goodnight...little me.” Before turning over to go to bed, slowly fell into a dreamless sleep.

… Until some small squeaking had woken her up.

[bomberqueen17]

tiny house update

i’m hanging in there. yesterday was such a busy day, but it was a *good* busy day and everything went smoothly. We processed 310 chickens and went so fast we were still done early enough that we set up and started packaging them before lunch.

I should update more about the tiny house-- ha ok that made this get put off all day but i’m back now, lol. ok Tuesday was a busy day, I’ve lost track of what days have been what.

my Other BIL, the Army one who’s the dad of my two nephews and other niece (i mean the niece who isn’t Farmkid), he’s a hobbyist woodworker and actually has a fair amount of carpentry experience. ( “I prefer woodworking, like as an actual experience,” he explained, “but there’s an awful lot of call for carpentry, and then you have a large useful finished product like a house or whatever, so it’s kinda. Rewarding, let’s say.” He also frequently expressed delight in using power tools and guns, so let’s just say he’s a guy whose sense of self-worth is somewhat ironically (but not entirely ironically) tied up in these sorts of traditional pursuits.)

He took a week of vacation to come up here and do two things-- one, try to as it were fill the tags on the farm’s nuisance permits for deer, and two, build some tiny house bits.

So on Sunday, here’s where we started, where we’d left off before things got too hectic to continue around here:

the deck, assembled atop the bottom of the platform and the vapor barrier layer.

so we put in the fiberglass insulation:

got that all set in there, and then screwed on the plywood decking on top. This stuff was a bit flood-damaged, but nothing was unusable, so I could kind of let out a little sigh of relief about that.

Here’s where Army BIL demonstrated that he’s got some experience at this-- the plans call for nails, FarmBIL had planned on using nails, and ABIL was like.... if you use screws, it costs a little more but then the floors won’t creak.

Mind blown. He’s right. So we used screws. He used so many screws, and for a while after, any time the nailgun spit out a nail that didn’t go in, he’d retrieve it and find a weak spot in the floor to pound that nail in, which was a very my-dad thing to do.

(that’s the underlying sad bit of all this, I was going to do this project with my dad. the project i would have done with him would have been wildly different from this one, though. He and I had concepted out, and gotten plans (free) for a very tiny house, and he’d begun to look for salvaged materials to use. I decided I was super not up for that, so we’re not doing that now, so while we’re building something new, I’m building something big enough to be a multipurpose space and not just a place for me to sleep.)

So once the floor was done, ABIL pointed out that this is like.... a subfloor. This is pretty rough plywood. I’ll need to get some kind of flooring material to go over it. Linoleum or vinyl or tile or hardwood or something. Really doesn’t matter what. I can think about it for a while, I don’t have to decide right now. Which is good.

Next we found the decking for the porch, and set that up. ABIL’s idea was to cut them only roughly to length, and then run the skilsaw over the ends to saw them all to the same length once installation was complete. This was a good idea, and was what we did.

with that finished, we broke for the day, and on Monday, I cleaned the slaughterhouse as fast as I could, and then we spent some more time on all this, and got the timbers laid out and measured and cut and notched.

Tuesday was chicken slaughter so I was busy all day, but ABIL snagged help from various other people-- almost everyone besides me, in fact, anyone who stepped outside for a moment wound up holding things and helping him, and by the time I came out, exhausted, at the end of the day, it looked like this:

which is fucking amazing. You can see which end has the porch with the loft over it, because that floor level is dropped a little.

Wednesday was door and window framing, and Thursday was finishing the window framing and starting to do the first layer of siding, so..... I’ll post photos of that later but this has taken too long and I gotta go, LOL.

So that’s something.

[expectingtofly]

Sign Here

AU-Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Dean is a UPS Driver, Cas and Dean are idiots, Gabe is trying to help

4k (oops this fic got long)

also posted on ao3

written for Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 2k Followers Celebration <3 <3

Castiel knelt on the grass to pull up some stubborn weeds in the garden lining the front of his newly-bought house. The previous inhabitants had left behind a tangled mess of rose bushes and weeds, and after a week of unpacking boxes, he was happy to finally have time to spend outside. One of the perks of moving from an apartment to a small bungalow—finally space for a garden. Although, he was sure the inside of his house would soon become just as packed with plants as his apartment had been.

Engrossed as he was in weeding and planning what flowers he would plant to expand the garden, he didn’t hear someone approach until a shadow fell over the dirt. 

Startling, he looked up to see a man standing on the walkway next to him. “What—oh.” By the man’s clothes—brown collared shirt and shorts—and the package he was holding, Castiel realized he was a UPS delivery driver. “Hello.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the driver said, fighting back a smile.

Castiel stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “It’s alright.” 

The man held out a package. “I was gonna deliver this to your front door, unless you want to take it now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Taking it, Castiel looked down at the label, trying to remember what he had ordered. Something for his kitchen, probably.

“Did you just move in?” the UPS driver asked. His eyes were very green, a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Freckles everywhere, Castiel realized, seeing the way they lightly spotted his bare arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Realizing he was staring, Castiel reddened, glanced down at the package in his hands. “Uh, yes, I did. Last week.”

“Welcome to Bloomfield, then.” He nodded at the rose bushes. “Nice garden you got here.”

“You don’t have to lie, it’s a mess.” The driver laughed and Castiel smiled a little. “It’s not much now. Hopefully I’ll be able to fix it up soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, see how things develop.” The man took a step back and gestured to the UPS truck on the street. “I’ve got other packages to deliver. Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Castiel said, watching him leave. Kneeling down to continue yanking out the prickly weeds, he smiled. It was nice to meet someone friendly; he hadn’t gotten to meet many people yet with the chaos of moving in. Of course, he thought, glancing back at the UPS truck as it rumbled down the street, it didn’t hurt that the driver was extremely attractive as well. 

***

The next week, Castiel was hanging up art prints in his living room when he heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was for a package he’d ordered, he took his time getting to the door, straightening the print on the wall before weaving through the cardboard boxes he still hadn’t unpacked. 

When he opened the front door, however, he was surprised to see the green-eyed UPS driver standing on his porch holding the package.

The man’s face brightened. “Hi. Got a delivery for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, opening the door wider. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I thought you delivery drivers just dropped off the package and disappeared.”

The UPS driver laughed. Such a nice laugh, Castiel thought. “Right, yeah, that’s what we normally do. But, uh, we have a new policy. Have to get a signature for packages.” He handed over a clipboard and pen, pointing to the line at the bottom of the page. "Just sign here."

“Oh. Alright.” Castiel took the clipboard and signed his name. When he handed it back, he saw the man glance at the signature. “Castiel,” he supplied.

“Cool name. I’m Dean.” 

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Having been occupied all week with moving in and subsequently starved for conversation, he added, “You’re one of the first people I’ve met so far. The other being a cashier at that grocery store down the street.”

“Still getting settled in?”

“Yes. It’s taking much longer than I anticipated. I hate unpacking. It never seems to end.”

“Yeah, moving’s a bitch. You liking the place so far, though?”

Castiel nodded. “I do. Much improved from the apartment where I was living before.”

“God, I bet. I share an apartment with my brother—don’t get me wrong, I like living with him, but our landlord’s an asshole.” He gestured to the right. “Garden’s looking great.”

“Thank you. I just bought petunias, but I haven’t had a chance to plant them.” He pointed at the small brown box Dean was still holding. “That should be new gardening gloves in there.”

“Oh, right, your package.” Dean’s face looked a little red as he handed the box over. “Um, well, I should be on my way. See ya.” He stepped off the porch with a wave and Castiel waved back before going inside. 

As he unpacked his belongings, he realized filling a house was harder than he’d thought. There were so many household items he was missing. Perhaps a trip to the store would be faster, but ordering online was easier—or so he told himself as he opened his laptop.  

I’m only trying to save myself time, he reasoned, though inwardly he might have been hoping Dean would deliver the package. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he found himself growing more impatient over the next few days. Then, one afternoon as he organized his silverware drawer, he heard the doorbell ring. He practically ran to the front door, then paused and steadied himself before opening it, waiting a few seconds so it wouldn’t seem like he’d rushed over.  

It might not even be Dean, he chastised himself as he unlocked the door. 

Dean smiled at him when he swung the door wide.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual and hide his smile.

“Hi.” He looked to be about Castiel’s age. What were the chances that someone this attractive was single? “Got another package. A heavy one this time.” 

Pushing away those thoughts, Castiel took it from him and placed it inside on the floor. “Thank you. Don’t I have to sign something?”

“Uh, shit, yeah.” Dean handed over the clipboard and pen, and as Castiel signed, he nodded at the package. “Something else for the garden?”

Castiel shook his head, handing back the clipboard. “A mixer. I thought maybe I could try my hand at baking. My mom sent me a few of her recipes.”

Dean’s eyes brightened. “You ever want inspiration, there’s a diner, other side of town, a few blocks from where I live, that makes the best pie. Makes them fresh every morning.”

“I’ll have to go sometime.” He stopped short of saying that maybe he’d see Dean there, not wanting to sound too excited at the prospect.

Maybe I should order more things for the kitchen, he thought, shutting the door after saying goodbye to Dean. Or a new bath mat, and curtains, maybe. The boxes he had yet to unpack scolded him by their presence, but he ignored them. If receiving new items meant talking to a friendly face, who could blame him? 

***

“You sure get a lot of packages,” Dean remarked the next week when Castiel opened the door. 

Castiel reddened. “Turns out it’s hard to fill a whole house.” 

“I’m not complaining, you’re the one giving me a job to do.” Dean handed over the package. “What’s it this week?”

“A watering can.”

“You really like to garden, don’t you?” Dean gestured to the flowers and plants lining the front of the house. “I mean, you’ve added a lot since moving in.”

“Yes, well, I find it’s a wonderful way to wind down after work.”

Dean nodded. “I get that. Any spare time I have, I work on my car.”

Castiel glanced at the UPS truck, because he hadn’t really considered Dean driving anything else. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of running into Dean somewhere else, at the diner, at the grocery store. He wondered how Dean dressed when he wasn’t in his uniform, what else he did in his free time.

Dean followed his gaze to the street and gestured to the UPS truck. “This thing, it’s crap. No AC, no radio. What do you drive?” He glanced at Castiel’s driveway. “That a Lincoln Continental? 78? 77?”

Castiel caught the derisive tone in his voice. “78. And I like it,” he added defensively.

Dean smiled, raising his hands. “Eye of the beholder, I guess. You ever need work done on it, let me know, I can help.” His eyes widened a little at his own words. “I mean, you don’t need to, I just meant, if you want. I’m good at that stuff.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the offer.” Inwardly, he cursed his car for being so reliable. Maybe the engine light would turn on and he could take him up on his offer. Or maybe Dean was only being friendly and didn’t really mean it. 

When Dean headed back to his truck and Castiel shut the door, he realized Dean hadn’t asked him to sign anything. Maybe he’d only forgotten. 

***

“Gotten acquainted with the locals?” Gabriel asked a few nights later when he called to see how Castiel was settling in.

“I talked with one of my neighbors yesterday. Arla. She’s eighty-two and owns three cats.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Castiel glanced at the mixer. “And, uh, I did meet someone else. Someone my age, not a neighbor. Dean.”

“Met someone? Like went on a date with—”

“No, he works for the UPS, he’s been delivering my packages.” He was interrupted by Gabriel laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“So instead of going out and meeting real people, you’re making friends with the delivery guy.”

“Dean is real,” Castiel protested. “He’s very kind and friendly. And helpful. He’s told me about places to check out in town and complimented my garden—”

“Damn, Cas, sounds like you really like this guy.”

“No, he’s just a nice person,” Castiel insisted. By Gabriel’s laughter, he knew he wasn’t being believable. “Alright, fine. I enjoy talking to him.” He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that seeing Dean was becoming his favorite part of the week.

“He single?”

“Um. Yes.” He may or may not have asked Arla if she knew Dean, and may or may not have learned that she couldn’t believe “a charming young man like him is still single.” Oh, and that if she were a younger woman, she would be ordering packages left and right to flirt with him when he delivered. Castiel did not appreciate that last part, even if Arla had no idea how close to the truth she’d struck. I’m not flirting, he argued inwardly.

“Well, are you going to make a move or not?” When Castiel didn’t respond right away, Gabriel added, “Right, I forgot who I’m talking to.”

“I might,” Castiel protested. “But we only just met. And I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s only doing his job.”

“May as well ask him out, see what he says.” 

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I only just moved here.”

“Well, you snooze, you lose, Cas. Don’t miss out on something just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!”

I’m not scared, he repeated to himself when he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was being reasonable. But maybe Gabriel was right. Dean had to be somewhat interested—delivery guys didn’t just stick around to talk after delivering a package. Maybe he’d test the waters, try to see if Dean was truly interested or just being friendly.

***

A few days later, he was watering his petunias when Dean got out of his truck with another package.

“Hey, Cas!” he called. 

“Hello, Dean.” Setting down his water can, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, taking the narrow box from Dean. Before he lost his courage, he spoke up, “I, um, made a pie this morning.” Whether he’d made it specifically to offer to Dean was something he’d never admit to anyone, much less himself. “I was wondering if you wanted a slice? You can tell me if it’s good or not.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Shit, Cas, really? Yeah, thanks.”

“Wait here, I’ll grab it.”

When he returned to the doorway with a paper plate covered in foil, he caught Dean looking inside his house. 

“It’s still a mess in here,” Castiel said, handing the plate over. “I’ve been kinda busy with work.”

“No, yeah, totally, no judgement.” He peeled back the foil and inhaled. “Fuck, I’m starving. This looks amazing.” Picking up the slice, he took a bite. “Mmm,” he said, rolling his eyes back. 

“Good?” Castiel asked, amused. 

“So good,” Dean said, his voice muffled. He swallowed. “You’re a natural.” 

“Thank you. I have more, if you’d like it.”

“Don’t tempt me. Yes.” 

Grinning, Castiel went back inside and packaged up two more slices, brought them to Dean.

“You’re an angel,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He juggled the plates in his hands. “So, where do you work?”

Castiel leaned on the doorway. “I work here. I’m an editor. I do freelance work.”

“Dude, that’s cool. Nice that you get to work from home.” Looking down at his watch, he swore quietly. “Sorry, I need to keep moving. I’ve got a lot of deliveries today.” 

“Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed, straightening. “Alright. Sorry for keeping you so long.”

“No problem, this was a nice break.” He stepped off the walkway. “Thanks for the pie.”

“You’re welcome.” Ask him for his number. Ask him if he would like to go out. But he kept quiet and watched Dean cross the yard back to his truck. 

***

That night, Castiel ordered a set of bookends shaped like trees. He checked his email the next few days, tracking the package. On the day it was to be delivered, he had to run errands and got stuck in traffic. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw a package sitting on the front porch. Shit. He’d missed Dean. 

Grabbing his bag of groceries, he walked over and picked up the package with his free hand. Then he noticed a note taped to the top. 

Sorry I missed you, it read. The pie was incredible.

Castiel smiled. 

***

Sunlight streamed through his living room windows as Castiel organized his books on his bookshelves. He was just pushing his new bookends into place when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to the front door and looked out through the window. Dean?

“Hello, Dean,” he said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting a package today.” 

“Oh, really?” Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile as he turned around the cardboard box in his hands. Bold black letters were written across the front: SAY HI TO DEAN FOR ME.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he snatched the box out of Dean’s hands. “What? I don’t know how—” He scanned the box for the label. Gabriel, he realized. “It’s my brother,” he explained. “I was telling him about you, he must’ve sent me this to embarrass me, I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s smile won out. “No, it’s fine, that’s kinda hilarious.” He shifted his stance, the wooden porch boards creaking. “You, uh, you told him about me?”

Castiel’s head snapped up from glaring at Gabe’s name on the return label. “Um, yes,” he faltered. “Well, I was just telling him that I met someone, and it’s been nice to, uh, uh, have a friend.” 

Friend? He hardly knew Dean, for fuck’s sake. For all he knew, he was just a random person Dean spoke to occasionally on his route, no more important than Arla or any of the other people he delivered to.

But Dean smiled. “Yeah, uh, me too. I mean, I like meeting people on my route, just makes the day a lot better when I get to stop and talk.” He reddened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his boots.

“I hope I don’t keep you from your other deliveries,” Castiel said.

Dean waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I get the other ones done fast so I can spend more time here.” He cut himself off and reddened even further, as if realizing what he was admitting. 

So, Dean was deliberately trying to see him, talk to him. Castiel felt his face heat up as well. “I’m sure delivering packages all day can be very boring,” he offered. 

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, ya know, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I’m just trying to make sure this neighborhood’s newest resident is doing okay.” He grinned. “Think of me as the welcome committee.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”

Dean nodded again, and they stood there awkwardly for a few long moments. Castiel glanced back down at the box, Gabe’s words ringing in his head. Ask him out, see what he says.

“I’ll get on my way,” Dean said, stepping back. He smiled a little. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will.” Maybe he should just blurt it out. Dean had said he enjoyed stopping by here. But maybe he only meant that in a friendly way. Castiel had called him a friend, after all. He chickened out. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Dean walked away and Castiel glared down at the box. 

“Not helpful,” he told it.

***

“Gabe, I hate you.”

“What? I was just trying to spark conversation between you two—”

“I hate you. I can hold a conversation well enough myself, thank you very much. You only made things awkward.” He paused before adding, “Dean says hi, by the way.”

Gabriel cheered and Castiel pulled his phone away from his ear. “So it worked? You asked him out?”

“Um...” Castiel pulled at a rip on his gardening jeans. “No.”

“Cassie!” Gabriel whined. “I did all that work for nothing? What’s the holdup? Ask him out.”

Castiel groaned. “I will. Eventually. But, I mean, can he even say yes? He’s on the job—”

“Cas, he’s already taking time out of his workday to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll say yes, even if he’s working. Stop making excuses.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him.” He only said it to get Gabriel off his back, but his palms grew sweaty even thinking about it. 

“You better. Keep me updated.”

“Only if you never pull a prank like that again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” 

***

Seated at his desk, Castiel frowned at an awkwardly worded sentence that refused to form itself into any coherency. Was the past tense of lie lay or laid? Why couldn’t he ever remember? 

The doorbell ringing drew his attention and, grateful for the break, he saved the document he was editing and got up. Going to the front door, he wondered if he had any left-over pie to give Dean and drag out their time together in the doorway.

Opening the door, he began to say hello, then paused. A UPS delivery man was walking away to his truck, a package at Castiel’s feet on his front porch. 

“Wait!” Castiel called, stepping outside. The man turned—not Dean. Someone he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”

The man looked startled. “I, uh, I’m a delivery—”

“No, sorry.” Castiel flushed. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean?” The man frowned. “I don’t know who that is. We all got new routes a few days ago. He must be on another route now.”

Castiel’s heart sank. “Oh.” Another route? He looked down at the package. “Don’t I have to sign something?”

“No, you’re all good. We don’t require signatures.” The man continued to his truck and Castiel picked up the package. A lattice pastry roller to make more intricate pie crusts. He’d thought Dean might appreciate the effort.

Shutting the door, he stood in the foyer for a moment. So, Dean was gone. Why hadn’t he ever asked for Dean’s number? He’d had plenty of opportunities.

It’s a small town, he reasoned. I’ll see him again, I have to. He knew Dean lived on the other side of town, maybe if he drove around there, kept an eye out—

Alright, stop, he told himself. He was starting to sound crazy. He dropped the package off on the kitchen table. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

***

The next day, Castiel was seated at his desk, sending an email to a client, when the doorbell rang. 

His pulse sped up, and instinctively he rose from his chair. Then he remembered that Dean didn’t deliver to his house anymore. Sighing, he sat back down. 

He’d been trying not to think of it, but every other item in his house—the mixer, the bookends, the pastry roller—only reminded him of Dean and brought down his mood. 

Why didn’t I take Gabe’s advice? he bemoaned inwardly. That was a thought he never thought he’d have, but it looked like Gabe had been right. He’d lost his chance.  

Staring at his computer screen, he tried to focus on his work, but the distraction had ruined his focus. At least I’ll save money, he reasoned ruefully, now that he had no excuse for making random purchases. 

The doorbell rang again and he lifted his head, frowning. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ordering anything. Maybe it was Arla, coming over to say hello.  

Rising, he went to the front door and tried to remember the name of that diner Dean had told him about. Maybe he’d stake out there on a weekend, see if Dean showed up. Or was that creepy?

Definitely creepy, he decided with a sigh, opening the door. Then he froze.

“Dean?”

Standing on his front porch—this time in jeans and a black t-shirt, holding a potted fern—was Dean. He smiled hesitantly, almost nervously. “Hi, Cas.” 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel looked at the street, but of course the familiar UPS truck wasn’t there. In its place was a sleek, black car. 

“My route changed and I, uh, never got to say bye. So I thought I’d just come over. Sorry if that’s weird—”

“No, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised. I thought I’d never…”

Dean grinned. “Scared you’d lost me forever?”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. 

“I, um, I brought you this.” He held out the plant, laughed nervously. “I felt weird coming over without anything to deliver.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely.” Taking the plant, he stroked the leaves. “I know exactly where to put it.” His heart pounded as he realized now was his chance. He had to take it.

He started to ask for Dean’s number, but Dean started talking too, and they both stopped, laughing. “You first,” Castiel said. 

“Um, well.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was thinking, would you maybe want to hang out somewhere other than your doorway? I can show you around town.” He gestured to his car. “Take you for a spin in Baby.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I would love that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to ask you out, or ask for your number. I just never worked up the courage.”

Dean grinned. “Am I really that intimidating?”

Castiel laughed. “No. Not at all. You’re quite the opposite.” He gestured inside. “Would you, uh, would you like to come inside?”

“Yeah, totally.” 

Castiel started to open the door wider, then paused. “I have a question. You never did need my signature, did you? For the packages?”

Dean frowned, then realization seemed to hit him and his face reddened. “Yeah, uh. No. But I figured it was a surefire way to get your name and talk to you.”

“Is that a trick you use often?”

“Nope, you were the first.” He grinned, eyes suddenly teasing. "Did you really need everything you were ordering, or were all the packages just an excuse to see me?"

Now was Castiel's time to blush. "I did need what I ordered!" he protested. "Well, some things. But mainly... I just wanted to talk to you."

“Well, it worked.”

“Yes.” He stepped back for Dean to come inside his home and smiled at him. “And I’m very glad it did."

Tag List:

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[merakiaes]

A Nice Night In The Middle Of July - William Miller

Pairing: William Miller x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. First time I’m writing for Will so sorry if it’s a bit OOC, leave a comment and let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 3377

Summary: Having a barbecue with Will and the boys on a nice summer night. 

“This is why I can’t have nice things, you know.” You mumbled against Will’s shoulder, looking down at his hands as he struggled to fix the broken chain of your golden bracelet.  

Will only grumbled under his breath, using a small pair of pliers to bend open the small golden rings.

“I’m fixing it, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He insisted, like he had been for the past ten minutes.

But you knew that his patience was wearing thin, pressing a light kiss to his shirt-clad shoulder and gently rubbing his bicep with your hand. 

“Will, I love you and you know that.” You said, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. “You’re a good man and a good soldier, but you’re not handy. Not in the slightest.”

He stopped fiddling with the chain, turning his head around to look at you with his eyebrows raised in a playful manner. “What do you mean I’m not handy?” He asked. “I fixed the broken sink, didn’t I?”

“That’s not quite how I remember it.” You chuckled.

“No? How do you remember it?” He put the pliers down, turning his body towards you.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling as he took you into his arms. “You made it worse and Benny was forced to come over in the middle of the night to clean up your mess so that we wouldn’t flood and permanently damage the house. That’s how I remember it.”

He turned quiet for a moment, his fingers that had previously been rubbing small, comforting circles on your waist where his hand had found its place, coming to a halt.

“What is it with you and nitpicking, hm?” He asked after another moment of silence, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not nitpicking if your brother saved us from going bankrupt all because you were too stubborn to admit you needed help, honey.” You pointed out, chuckling.

He started chuckling too. “Yeah, yeah.” He agreed, before leaning in closer to your face. “You know you love me.”

Smirking, you raised your arms to wrap them around his neck, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.” You mumbled, and began leaning in to close the space between you.

Your eyes fluttered close and your lips were just about to brush against each other’s, when the door to the living room flung open with a loud bang, causing the two of you to jump apart in shock.

Your eyes instantly found Ben as he walked outside into the backyard where you were sitting, his arms thrown out and his hips moving around in a ridiculous dance.

“Who’s ready to get their party on? Woo-woo!” He sang and while Will annoyedly rolled his eyes beside you, you laughed at his childish antics, bringing a hand up to your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus, Benny!” You exclaimed. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Benny laughed loudly at you, jumping down the steps of the back-porch and heading your way. “Well, I am naturally terrifying.” He answered playfully and you chuckled.

Before any of you could say anything else, Tom appeared, walking out through the same door as Ben had just seconds before.

“I think we’re too old to party.” He commented simply with a small smile playing on his lips as he headed down the steps and in your direction, referring to the first words Ben had spoken when coming outside.

Ben, however, didn’t listen, giving his friend a disappointed look. “Oh, come on, man. You’re never too old for a good ole’ bender.”

Tom raised his eyebrows at his choice of wording and beside you, Will chuckled, pointing a finger to one of the chairs across from you.

“Sit your ass down, Ben.” He said, and his brother flashed him a cheeky grin, doing as told just as Pope appeared on the porch.

The second you turned your heads to look at him, he raised both of his hands into the air to put the four six-packs he was holding on display. “I brought the beer.” He said, stating the obvious and flashing you his pearly whites.

“And I brought the meat.” Tom joined in, coming up to the table and dumping the paper bag he had brought with him onto the wooden table, bringing said meat out and slapping the pieces onto the bag “This is the real deal, I’m telling you.”

Just the sight of the raw meat got you excited and you couldn’t wait until it was all cooked and ready to eat, not having eaten since lunch time.

Before any of you could comment on the good-quality meat, however, Catfish was jogging down the steps of the porch too, waving his hands around.

“And I brought my good company. Thank you, Frankie!” He cheered himself on, causing you to chuckle at the sarcastic tone in his voice.

“Thank you, Frankie.” You told him sincerely, your smile widening as he came up to your side and planted a friendly kiss on your cheek.

Once him and Pope had sat down next to Ben, they wasted no time in digging into the carton packages of beer.

Pope snapped the metal cap off a bottle and stretched it out for you to take and you accepted it without looking at him, keeping your gaze on Tom as he moved to the grill standing off to the side. “We got the grill all warmed up for you, Tom.”

Tom simply nodded his head, flipping the lid open and grabbing the metal kitchen utensils laying on the wooden bord next to the grill to stir the coals around.

While he busied himself with the grill, too engrossed in the task at hand to even spare you another glance, Ben leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“What have you got there, brother dearest?” He asked, and you moved your gaze to Will, seeing that he was now giving fixing the bracelet another attempt.

You hadn’t even noticed him going back to it, but now that he had, you could only roll your eyes. “My bracelet. He broke it.”

“On accident.” Will quickly filled in, without looking up from the golden piece of jewelry.

“How did you manage that?” Ben chuckled and, again, you rolled your eyes.

“He was fiddling with it, even though I told him not too, and as usual, he was too rough.”

A mischievous grin crept up the youngest Miller’s as he watched you, his hand slowly raising the bottle of bear to his lips. “Really?” He asked when he lowered it again after taking a sip, raising his eyebrows. “Because Will here tells me you like it rough.”

Pope and Catfish both choked on their beers at his words and Tom was obviously trying to cover his laughter up with coughs over by the grill.

Your eyes opened wide for a moment, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but then it turned into a glare, your head whipping around to face your boyfriend and your hand shooting out to slap his chest. “Will!”

Will’s glare was already set on his younger brother when you turned to look at him, his foot kicking him underneath the table, causing his younger brother to quickly raise his hands in surrender. 

“Kidding, kidding.” He said, but your glare didn’t leave Will, your arms crossing over your chest and a questioning eyebrow shooting up.

Before anyone could say anything else on the matter, however, Ben reached his hand out for the bracelet and the pliers in his older brother’s hands, nodding his head. “Let me have a look.”

Will turned to look at him, shaking his head. “I got it.” He insisted and you snorted, putting your hand on his.

“No, you don’t. Time to swallow your pride.” You said, trying to pry the pliers out of his fingers. “Give it to him, baby.”

He sighed, but did as told, handing the pliers and the bracelet to his brother, who wasted no time in starting to look it over.

While he busied himself with that, Will wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your arm. “Come here, you.” He said, and you did as told, moving into his side and settling comfortably under his arm.

“So, how’s your day been, guys?” You asked then, looking between all of them.

All of them shrugged, and Frankie leaned back into his seat, blowing a raspberry and raising his eyebrows. “Well, no one died.” He replied in a causal manner, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“Those are your standards?” You asked, but when only getting an amused smirk in return, you shook your head in a chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

They hummed in agreement and you turned to Tom, raising your bottle of beer to your lips and taking a sip before asking. “How’s Tess, Tom?”

Without looking away from the grill, where he had now put the first round of meat onto the metal grid, he answered. “She’s good. Very good, actually. She won the spelling bee yesterday.”

“You should’ve seen her. It was impressive.” Benny wasted no time in pitching in from across you, causing you all to turn to him.

You raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of your beer and snuggling further into Will’s side. “What were you doing at Tom’s daughter’s spelling bee competition?” You asked, and Frankie chuckled, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” He asked, amusement evident in his voice. “He’s trying to nail her English teacher.”

“And I’m succeeding.” Ben instantly answered, pointing the pliers at his friend. “And not only with her. Teachers are just crazy for me, man. I think they’ve got a thing for soldiers or something. Or maybe it’s just because I’m smoother than the cream cheese on a bagel.”

Tom scoffed from where he stood, and you did the same, shaking your head. “Please, you’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.”

At the sound of your words, he turned towards you, pointing the pliers at you instead. “Watch it, or maybe I’ll keep the bracelet for myself.”

You leaned forward at that, eyes wide with expectation. “Did you fix it?”

Placing his hand over his heart, he gave you a feign hurt look. “You doubted me? I’m wounded.” He said and you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out.

Chuckling, he dropped the bracelet in your hand and you smiled to see that the chain was now whole again. “That was quick.” You pointed out, ignoring the way Will scoffed from beside you and smiling at his brother. “Thank you, Benny.”

“Don’t mention it.” He raised his beer to you and smiled, before bringing the bottle to his lips.

You turned to Will, looking up at him and holding the bracelet up. “Help me put it back on?” You asked and he grumbled under his breath, but nonetheless took it from you and undid the clasp.

You held your wrist up for him and he put the bracelet on without any trouble whatsoever. You moved to bring your hand back down but he caught your wrist, holding your eyes as he moved your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

A smile instantly rose to your face but before either of you could say anything, the egg clock went off inside the house, causing all of you to stop what you were doing to look at the porch door.

You smacked your lips. “Looks like the potatoes are done in the oven.” You told them, and went to stand up.

But Pope quickly got to his feet, holding a hand out to stop you and flashing you a soft smile. “I’ll get them, you sit down.” He said, and you returned the smile, nodding your head and sinking back down next to Will.

Next to stand up was Ben, pushing his chair back and putting his now empty bottle down on the table. 

“I’m gonna go raid your liquor cabinet.” He said, and beside him, Frankie put out a cigarette that you had barely even noticed him light in the first place, standing up too.

“I could go for some whiskey.” He agreed, the three of them heading toward the porch.

You looked after them until they had all disappeared into the living room, heaving a sigh when you could no longer see them. “Oh, well… I guess it’s just us three th- Where are you going?” You cut yourself off when you turned to look at Tom, seeing that he was now also moving to leave.

“You didn’t bring the limes.” He told you simply, wiping his hands on a towel to rid them of the marinade that the meat was covered in.

“Oh, shoot.” You groaned, giving him an apologetic look. “I totally forgot. They’re in the fridge.”

He smiled at you, throwing the towel at the table and nodding.  “Got it, be right back.” He said, stopping only to point a finger at you, giving you a pointed look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You opened your mouth to reply but before you could get a word out, you felt a sharp pinch at your butt, a surprised yelp leaving your lips instead.

“No promises.” Will said from beside you, causing you to turn around to look at him, catching him trying to hide his pleased smirk behind his beer.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky antics and Tom only chuckled, before heading for the porch and leaving the two of you alone.

You watched the side of Will’s face closely as he took another sip of his beer, a hum leaving his lips before he leaned forward to put the bottle on the table in order to give you his full, undivided attention.

When he turned to face you with a small smirk playing on his lips, your face instantly lit up in a big smile, said smile widening even further when he leaned his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin.

He started planting feather-light kisses along your neck, out on your jaw all the way to your chin. 

“Hey, there.” He mumbled when his face was right in front of yours, and you smiled, looking down at his lips.

“Hi, yourself.” You mumbled, bringing your hands up to his neck, stroking the back of his head slowly.

He analyzed your face, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“You’ve got...” He trailed off, and you followed his every move with your eyes as he brought a hand up to your face, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your skin. “An eyelash.” He finished, bringing his thumb up in front of you, a single, black eyelash now resting on the pad. 

You chuckled, blowing the lash off, before reaching up with your free hand to take his in yours.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied, taking you back under his arm and smirking playfully at you. “So, you come here often?”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “Well, considering that I live here, yeah.” You replied, and this time it was his turn to snort.

“Cute.” He said, and kissed you.

You hummed into the kiss, using your hand at his neck to pull him closer. “Thanks.” You mumbled against his lips. “I murdered a care bear and ate its heart to get this adorable.”

At the sound of your words, Will had to pull away from you with a laugh. “Wow.” He drawled lowly, raising his eyebrows.  “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was the care bear.” You gave him a feign evil look, before breaking into a wide grin.

He chuckled at your antics, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You mumbled, letting go of his hand to bring it to his neck where your other one was already at, pulling him in for another kiss.

“That I do.” He mumbled against your lips, and you simply smiled, pulling him closer.

The sweet moment of passion was cut short, however, when the sound of a can opening reached your ears, the two of you opening your eyes and slowly turning your faces around to the side, your lips only coming apart when you spotted Benny standing at the end of the porch with a grin on his face.

You brought your hand up to wipe your lips, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend’s brother. “We were having a moment.” You said, eyes only narrowing further when he loudly slurped the can.

“And I’m having a beer.” He deadpanned, still grinning like an idiot as he walked to where you were sitting at the table.

“I thought you were going to go get the whiskey.” You raised your eyebrow, and he wasted no time in raising the bottle you hadn’t noticed until then.

“I did, but that’s for later.” He replied, sinking down into his old chair just as the others returned outside, talking loudly.

While Pope and Frankie sat back down, Tom busied himself with cutting up the limes at a cutting board he had brought with him outside, all while the six of you engaged in conversation about everything between heaven and earth, reminiscing in old memories.

The food was served close to an hour later and it was even better than you’d imagined it would be, tasting like heaven when you hadn’t eaten anything else for so many hours.

The clock was well past midnight by the time you finished, but the conversations never stopped, drunken laughter filling your entire backyard.

The topic at hand was currently about the time Ben had stolen his neighbor and crush’s underwear in high school and thrown them up in the highest tree in the neighborhood for all to see, something he was still to this day very proud of, when you suddenly felt Will’s face nuzzling into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

His nose grazed over your neck, moving the hair out of the way, so that he could press a kiss to the skin.

“I love you.” His gruff voice came right by your ear a second later, and you smiled, closing your eyes as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, baby.” You mumbled, your smiled widening when he pressed another kiss to your skin, this time right at the corner of your lips.

“Hey, no more of that! You can bone each other later, preferably when we’re not here!” Ben’s voice yelled out, and before you got the time to react, you were hit in the face with a piece of lime peel.

You jumped, turning to glare at Ben who was smiling drunkenly at you, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“You’re the worst.” You told him, and he only stuck his tongue out at you, causing all of the others to fall into a fit of laughter.

Will started laughing too, his chest rumbling behind your back, the sound automatically causing the glare to fall from your face and be replaced by a smile.

You turned back to him, bringing your hands up to grab his face, causing his eyes to flicker up to yours.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at you and you smiled, bringing him closer.

“But you.” You mumbled, swiping your thumbs over his cheeks anf pausing to peck his lips, pressing your forehead against his once you came back apart. “Are the best.”

He smiled, leaning in to press his lips against yours in another kiss, but was cut short by another lime peel being thrown at your heads, followed by a second, a third and a fourth, forcing the two of you to come back apart to cover your heads as the guys continued to torment you until they were all out of peels.

It was a beautiful night in the middle of July and you were together, drinking, eating, laughing, talking and having a good time with your closest friends, wrapped up in the arms of the love of your life. Everything was perfect, and nothing could bring you down.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Pumpkin Duck

Author: @mega-aulover​

Prompt: How about Katniss taking Peeta to the forest during the fall for the first time to see all of the fall colors. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: K

Author’s note: Special thanks to @jroseley​ for beta-ing. :)

____________ 

“You smell like a snickerdoodle Sweetheart?”

Katniss slammed the door of Haymitch’s man cave and sat down. She narrowed her eyes at her mentor. She was beginning to hate anything fall flavored related, including cinnamon.  Most of all she grew a distinct dislike of pumpkin.

“Peeta’s still baking up a storm.”

“He claims he’s experimenting with recipes for the bakery,” she huffed. “But the thing is he’s making stuff that isn’t sold at the bakery.”

Haymitch handed her a beer. “So what has the boy done that has you spittin nails?”

She twisted the bottle cap angrily. “This morning he said he was going to create a pumpkin flavored  macaroni and cheese. Macaroni and cheese shouldn’t be pumpkin flavored. For that matter pumpkins don’t have a flavor like tomatoes, apples, or broccoli.”

Haymitch lifted an eyebrow. “Broccoli?”

“Yes broccoli,” Katniss said, putting the bottle down.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my house, I have orange coming out of my ears. I found Effie changing out my tidy-whities for oranges ones with squirrels sitting on piles of leaves. It’s not even fall yet.” 

Katniss hung her head. “Why don’t we make a run for it?”

Haymitch chuckled, “Effie’s got a tracker in me she’ll find me.”

Katniss laughed. Effie always seemed to show up wherever Haymitch hid.

“Fall’s like a week away Haymitch but he’s been driving me bananas.” Peeta yesterday dragged out his wok to make fried rice with pumpkins. She shuttered.  “How do you do it?”

“We find them appealing, they put up with our crap.” 

Katniss grimaced.

“No you don’t have the right to make that face. You and I both know Effie puts up with my geese and the boy puts up with muddy footprints all over the floor. Besides we are nuts about them.”

Her shoulders drooped, she did love Peeta. “He is cute when he wakes up in the morning  with his wavy hair all askew.”  

Haymitch grinned, he handed her half of his ham and cheese sandwich.

Having the normal food calmed her down.  “He says he wants to be ready for fall.”

“Why don’t you do something for him?”

“Like what?”

“You like the woods right?”

Katniss frowned she wasn’t following. “Yeah.”

“His favorite time of year is the fall, and next week the fall starts.” 

“Oh take him to the woods so he can see the real deal.” She had taken Peeta to the lake during the summer but never when the leaves were changing. Finishing up the sandwich she bounded out of the door. “Thanks Haymitch.”

“Don’t mention it,” Haymitch muttered. 

Katniss walked by Effie who today was dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit with a hat that looked like a pile of leaves. She shook her head but managed a smile at her former escort. “Hi Effie.”

“Oh, hello Katniss, is Haymitch still cooped up in there?”

“Sure is, the game’s nearly finished,” Katniss paused and then turned to her former Escort. Haymitch needed a break and she needed help. “Effie how quickly do you think I can get camping equipment?”

“Why?” Effie turned around. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well Haymitch gave me a great idea. I know how much Peeta loves the fall, so I thought I would take him camping up in the mountains. The leaves change colors in the mountains quicker because it’s cooler.”

“OH,” Effie gasped. Her lashes with miniature fall leaves batted quickly as her eyes became brighter. “What a darling idea? What exactly do you need?”

“Well,” Katniss said, linking her arm with Effie. “First off I need camping clothing, and I need a large enough tent.”

“Ooohhh, I know some people who can help.”

Katniss grinned. “I also need this to be a surprise. You know I cannot lie to Peeta.” Now if she could only survive the couple of days of pumpkin wreaking havoc in her life.

“That is the utter truth.” Effie said. 

The next day when Peeta returned to the bakery Katniss and Effie got to work. Katniss  had to make sure the path was still there. Around here the leaves were still green, but high up in the mountains the air was colder and the leaves changed color quicker.

Her father had taken her there once. She was a small child but she’d been past the trail a dozen times when she hunted in the woods with Gale but she’d never explored. After the war when Peeta came back she took a walk. She discovered the trail and everyday she cleared it little by little until she made it to the peak of the mountain. It took three days and Peeta was scared out of his mind when she came back. He kissed her hard, yelled at her, and kissed her again. Her toes curled in her old boots at the memory of that passionate kiss.

“Look Effie,” Katniss shouted excited to find the trail. When she found the trail she was overjoyed. 

“Oh dear this will not do,” Effie tsked. “We need someone to make a clear path, Peeta will not be able to get through there easily. I know who to call.” 

Katniss wasn’t sure about the gleam in Effie’s eyes. But true enough within a day Effie had Thom and a crew working around the clock to clear a path up to the mountain that would be even enough for Peeta to make his way up the mountain. 

A few days later she was in the mudroom looking bewildered at all of the packages Effe had brought over. There were boxes dozens of them of every size and shape. Katniss wasn’t sure how she was going to keep this from Peeta. He knew she was frugal and she just didn’t buy anything. 

“Katniss,” Peeta said, popping his head in her mudroom.

Katniss looked up, surprised that Peeta had come home early.

“What is all of this?”

“Nothing,” Katniss said, hiding the orange plaid shirt behind her back. Horrified she watched Peeta pick up a box.  

“Looks like Effie is trying to hide purchases from Haymitch.”

Katniss glanced down at the nearest box and indeed Effie’s name was on the shipping label of the boxes. “Erm…yeah,” Katniss nodded, she fought to keep her embarrassment from showing up on her face. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Well I wanted to make some ravioli, for dinner.”

Katniss eyes lit up at the thought of the fluffy pasta filled with oozing cheese or ground meat.”

“Yeah I got an idea for pumpkin flavored raviolis. I got the ingredients at the grocers,” he began walking away. “..they had these beautiful pumpkins.”

Her smile turned into a frown. “Great more freaking pumpkins,” she muttered under her breath.

The day before the great adventure Katniss sat outside with Haymitch.

“Effie is…” Katniss said to Haymitch a few days before.

“Determined?”

“Like a general in the rebellion,” Katniss said leaning up against the porch watching Peeta and Effie talk about the upcoming fall festival.

“You all set for tomorrow?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said about Effie?”

“I’m not talking about the trek, I’m talking about the…”

Katniss looked away…she looked at her beer. She drank it savoring the brew. “Yeah.”

“You, ready for this?” Haymitch leveled a look at her.

Katniss glanced toward Peeta, “I love him, even with his pumpkin obsession.”

“Good, that’s all that matters.”  

The next morning all went awry. A huge storm pulled into the  mountains and a deluge flooded the roads. They were stuck inside. Katniss sat by the window looking at the rain fall. 

“Katniss what's wrong?”

Katniss turned around biting her bottom lip. She wanted to cry but instead she squared her shoulders. “Today is the first day of fall but.”

“Yeah I know it’s the autumnal equinox.”

Jutting her chin out with determination she said, “We’re making fall.” 

“What?”

Determined, she went to his art supplies and said, “We’re making the fall indoors.”

“Kat?” 

“Get your paint box Peeta,” Katniss said, marching upstairs to an empty room. They were going to have to do this backwards. 

Peeta had his paints. “Okay are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“We’re going to make a mural Peeta. Big beautiful trees, one for each season.”

“Okay,” he looked around.

The words tumbled out of her lips,  “I had this entire weekend planned we were going to go up into the mountains.  We were going to eat fresh game and wonder at the colors of the fall. Then I was going to give you this.” Katniss took a small envelope and pressed it into his hands. 

Peeta frowned. He opened the envelope and took out the card. She watched his lips move as he read what she’d written. Katniss delighted in watching the way Peeta’s eyes lit up bigger than the bonfire she planned cooking their meals on. “You wanna try?”

Katniss nodded. 

“Real or not real, you wanna try to have a baby with me?”

“Real,” she whispered.

“Real,” Peeta uttered. Tears fell down his face.

“Yes,” Katniss pointed toward the room. “Wouldn’t this room make an amazing nursery?”

Peeta grasped her by the middle and swung her around. Katniss laughed. He put her down and then said, as he gathered his painting gear.  “I’m going to make us something special,  butternut squash soup, oh and some pumpkin bread…to go with pumpkin spiced duck.” 

Katniss scowled; she loved Peeta but she still hated the pumpkin. 

[redheadedteatotalfanfic]

You're the One, the Only (Ch. 1)

Chapter One:

Gina sat in a chair by the window in the front room of her grandparents’ house, trying her best to block out the noise going on behind her. She stared out the window, her mood as gloomy and bleak as the sky outside. She had zero interest in celebrating Christmas now that her Marine wasn't going to be here with her. When Kevin had called home for Thanksgiving, he'd explained how he'd deliberately not requested leave in the hopes that it would make it easier to get approved to come home for Christmas. She'd been fine with that, preferring it to spending time with him at Thanksgiving. He'd called day before yesterday and told her his chances of coming home for the holidays looked nonexistent. Her mood had soured, and she now just wanted to get tonight and tomorrow over with.

She had kept to herself despite her family's best efforts to cheer her up. She spoke when spoken to, but gave short perfunctory answers, and avoided looking at pictures and talking about favorite Christmases like her mom's side of the family did every year. She'd do the same tomorrow at her dad's, and hopefully go to bed early to get the day over with as quickly as possible. It wasn't the same without him here. Her only bright spot had come in the mail yesterday as his Christmas gift finally arrived. He'd gotten her the red Marines t-shirt she'd fallen in love with, along with a set of custom dog tags that had black silencers. She had both on today, hoping it would make her feel closer to him, but it hadn't worked. She glanced at her phone in her lap, he had promised to try and call tonight so they could at least hear each other's voice on their favorite holiday. But as the day dragged on it didn't appear that was going to be possible either. They normally talked at least three times a week, but all she'd gotten this week was the very brief phone call to tell her he wasn't coming home. She held out a small sliver of hope that he was saving the call for tomorrow.

A small package landed in her lap, and she looked up to see her little sister standing next to her chair with a cheesy grin. "Open it," she said.

"Not interested," Gina groused, handing it back. Since they were kids, they'd had a habit of opening one gift before dinner, as a way to tide them over until the adults were ready to open presents.

Casey refused to take it. "Trust me," she said. "You wanna open this one. You need what's in it."

With a frustrated sigh Gina ripped the paper open, revealing a packet of kleenex with a funny saying on them. She rolled her eyes and shoved them back into her sister's hand. "Very funny," she growled.

"Okay sourpuss, you don't wanna be nice go make yourself useful and start bringing the deserts in from the back porch," her mom said in the tone all mother's use when tired of their teenager's attitude. "And find a better mood while you're out there, hear me?"

"Gladly," Gina muttered, getting to her feet, and stuffing her phone in her back pocket.

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen Casey shifted to a point where she could see her sister and began providing a play by play for the rest of the family. "Through the kitchen...opening the back door, and..."

There was a muted scream that made everyone laugh and both of Gina's sisters and their mom headed for the porch. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, his around her waist and her own around his neck. She would've stayed that way forever if her family would've let her. She pulled back, and they shared a quick kiss, knowing her grandparents would have issue with more than that. "C'mon, let's get back in the house," her mom said.

"When did you get here?" Gina asked.

"He took a red eye last night, we picked him up at the airport this morning and dropped him off at the hotel," Chris said. "We waited until he got here and got hid on the back porch before Case gave you the kleenex."

"I got a few hours sleep, and went and spent time with my family today," Kevin added. He dropped his tone to a murmur, making sure only Gina could hear him as he entered the house. "I'm all yours until I gotta go back the day after New Year’s."

"Two weeks," she murmured. She was unfazed at knowing he'd elected to spend most of the day with her family instead of his own, he hadn't had the greatest upbringing, and most of them had been furious at his choice to join the military to the point he'd severely limited his contact with them.

"Two weeks," he confirmed. "And a room at our favorite hotel."

She squeezed his hand as they passed through the kitchen and back into the living room. With Kevin here her entire demeanor changed, and she became the giggling goofball that her family knew her to be at this time of year. She sat down in one of the chairs and he sat on the floor in front of her, using her legs as a backrest. It gave them the excuse to touch each other without enduring any teasing.

"I thought for sure you'd cry, it's why I gave you the kleenex," Casey said.

"She called you a crybaby when she bought them," Chris added.

She laughed, unfazed by the ribbing. None of them noticed when her legs shifted so that they were over Kevin’s shoulders, and he had his arms wrapped around them. They made it through dinner, and she was surprised to see the small pile of presents her family had gotten him. She had left her own gift for him in her car and was now looking forward to giving it to him in person later instead of mailing it on the day after Christmas.

She had needed the kleenex when they'd been given identical boxes by her grandmother. "This has been a year in the making, and I had to enlist the help of both families. It should make it a little easier to be separated when he goes back to the base," she'd explained. "And I didn't get them mixed up."

They had each been given a quilt made of the other's t-shirts. What made it extra special was that some of the shirts used had some sort of meaning between the two of them. She didn't know about him, but it would definitely make it easier to sleep once he left again.

During a lull as the night began to wind down, her mom gently pulled her aside. "Don't mention anything about staying with him. Just make it look like you're gonna drop him off at the hotel on your way home, okay? Otherwise, you'll get an earful from them both," she said.

Gina nodded. "I can use needing to pick up his Christmas gift as an excuse," she said. "I'm surprised you're okay with him staying."

"You're nineteen and have your own place, there's not much I can do to stop you. Now you know why I questioned you about doing your laundry yesterday, though I still dunno why you bothered with your underwear," her mom teased.

"Ma!"

----------------

After getting all the gifts loaded into Gina's car and making a quick stop at a gas station to pick up enough snacks to last until the day after Christmas when everything would re-open they headed for the hotel. They pulled up to a stoplight and Gina pulled a small package from the center console, where she'd put it with the intention of mailing it the day after Christmas. She turned on one of the overhead lights and handed him the package. "Merry Christmas baby," she said. "It's gonna seem weird until I explain what it's for, but I promise you'll love it."

Kevin tore into the packaging and unwrapped a set of keys. "Keys?" He questioned. "Keys are usually a good thing."

"Uh huh," Gina agreed. "An incredibly good thing in our case. We're not staying at the hotel for two weeks."

"We aren't? Why?" He asked.

"Remember the pictures I sent of the house I told you my dad was looking at?" She countered.

"Yeah," Kevin said a split second before comprehension smacked him on the back of the head, and his expression changed from confusion to anxious disbelief. "No..."

Gina nodded. "Dad doesn't like the idea of us living in the dorms on campus, so he was planning to lease me an apartment like he did my sister. I don't like the thought of living squished in with other people, and I found this place not too far from school. It's nothing spectacular, but it's ours," she explained.

"Explains why your sister was so adamant about me only booking the room for one night until the two of us went back to the hotel. The last two words you said are all that matters. I don't care what it looks like or what's wrong with it, it's ours," he said. Kevin leaned forward and they shared a kiss just as the light changed. She reached up and shut off the light as they began to move again and he reached over and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of her palm before threading their fingers together. The streetlights allowed him to see her smile, and he sat watching her for the longest time.

She couldn't wait to get to the house and show him the trivial things that she'd yet to tell him about. She'd turned one of the smaller bedrooms into a studio of sorts, where she could write, and he could draw. The master bedroom had an en suite bathroom, and double closets, and she'd sectioned off part of the garage to make a little home gym. They would hit up the supermarket on the twenty-sixth and pick up the last few things needed to turn it from a house into a home.

When they left the hotel after picking up his bags and checking out, she gave up her keys to let him drive, something she knew he enjoyed and likely hadn't done since he left several months ago. She also gave him quick instructions on how to get to the house, smiling when he easily pinpointed the location. As Kevin drove towards the house she unbuckled her seatbelt, wiggled out of her hoodie and stretched out across the center console, pillowing her head on his thigh. Kevin knew she wasn't sleepy; she was satisfying her desire to want to do more than just hold his hand. She covered up with the hoodie, and after giving her a couple of minutes to get comfortable he slipped his hand under it with the intention of curling his arm over her ribcage. His fingertips were met by bare skin, and when his thumb brushed against the lower curve of her breast he realized she'd taken off her bra when she'd gone to the restroom at the gas station. "Touch me," she begged in whisper. "I want you so bad."

Kevin smiled as she voiced her desires, he'd been gently coaxing her to do so ever since their first time. When she'd sheepishly admitted she struggled with it because she was afraid of being laughed at, he'd kissed her forehead and explained that any man that laughed at his girl for telling him he was doing something she liked or didn't like wasn't really interested in pleasing his girl. He let his hand drift up her chest and brush over her soft peaks enjoying the soft moans she made in response. Kevin kept his touch light so that neither of them would get frustrated by having to stop when they got to the house. She growled low in her throat when he withdrew his hand, making him chuckle. "We're less than five minutes from the house," he said.

She fidgeted a moment, readjusting her clothes, and then sat up, wiggling back into the hoodie, and raking a hand through her hair. She decided that when they got home they'd get the car unloaded, she'd give him a quick tour of the house, and then spend the next several hours tangled up in bed. Gina was about to inform him of her plans when she suddenly remembered something she desperately needed to take care of before he saw it.

"I gotta tie up the bathroom a bit, need to shave," she said as they pulled in the driveway. "Haven't been keeping things quite as trimmed as I was before you left."

Kevin smiled, knowing she wasn't talking about her legs. "I packed my straight razor, want me to do it again?" He asked, hitting the button to open the garage door. He pulled in, putting the car in park, and shutting off the engine before turning in the seat to look at her.

She nodded with a smile. He had done it for her one other time, the first time she decided she wanted to go bare. Letting him take care of something so intimate had been an amazing experience, and she'd decided to always take him up on the offer should he ever ask again. "I wanna do what I did last time too, it felt so good afterwards," she said.

They got out of the car and got the bags and gifts from the backseat. Gina led the way inside. She put the snacks on the counter before leading him into the living room where a couple of photos caught his attention. Kevin stopped and looked around, seeing several of his belongings sprinkled throughout the room. "I went to your parents place and picked up all your stuff that your mom boxed up and put in the garage," she said, putting the gifts on the sofa.

His duffel bag slid to the floor and he turned to her with tears in his eyes. She'd done much more than that. Unhappy with his decision, his mom had pretty much kicked him out when he went to boot camp, clearing out his room and relegating his belongings to the garage for him to pick up as soon as possible. Her family had taken him in, to the point that her grandparents treated him like their fourth grandkid. Gina pulled him into a hug, and he silently sobbed in her arms. "Welcome home baby," she murmured.

She cuddled him for a few minutes and decided to forgo the tour for the time being. He needed to stop thinking about his family and the bullshit he'd endured since he made the announcement that he was joining the military. "C'mon, let's go unwind a while and celebrate being together in our new house," she murmured.

Kevin lifted his head and smiled, and they shared a quick kiss before he reshouldered his duffel and followed her towards the bedroom.

[sabraeal]

Happiness Is Just Around the Corner

The Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist for her birthday! This was...not the fic I thought I’d be writing, but this is where this subplot needed to start >:3c

There is an improbable amount of fireworks on the lawn.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure none of it’s legal,” Kiki assures him, taking a long drag of her Sam’s Summer. “Shiira took his ducklings up to New Hampshire yesterday, and they came back with two coolers worth of...something.”

Zen coughs on the dregs of his Magic Hat. “What? Should we even--?”

Kiki’s flat stare is more effective than a hand over his mouth. “You really think we’ll get in trouble.”

His gut instinct is yes, because there’s not a day in his life where his brother hasn’t caught him with his pants down just to prove a point. It would be just like him to send a cruiser around so that he could experience the heart-stopping terror of being on the other side of a two-way mirror. Sure, Haruka would be down at the station before he could even ask for a phone call, and all of this would slide off his permanent record like water off a duck’s back, but still-- trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. He takes a deep breath, thinks. It’s quiet here on campus. They’re rowdy, sure, but it’s just the frat there, not some rager with Omega Delta Nu. The campus cops are probably bored out of their skulls, but they’re not going to nail the honor’s frat for a light show.

“No,” he admits, begrudgingly. “Not unless they light something on fire.”

Her mouth twitches, following the spark in her eyes. “Well, there’s a non-zero chance of that.”

Ugh, of course Kiki would be excited by the prospect. “Well, as long as we don’t get--” Obi crosses the lawn, aviators looming over a wide smile, and hovers just at Shiira’s shoulder, perusing the goods. “UH.”

“Fuck.” Kiki hops off the porch, straight down into the landscaping. “I’ll handle this.”

Zen settles back against the porch swing and sighs, taking another swig of Magic Hat. “Yeah, please do.”

Kiki’s already halfway across the lawn by the time he’s finished talking, so quick that when Obi picks up a particularly patriotic package of pyrotechnics, she’s there to snatch it out of his hands. Even from here, Zen can see the jut of his pout, hear the faint whine of Ms Kiki on the air.

Mitsuhide’s lighting up the grill, surrounded by a crowd convinced cooking works by consensus. He takes a handkerchief out of his back pocket-- stars and stripes, stuffed there early this morning as Obi solemnly announced, you are America’s hat today, big guy-- and wipes the sweat beading on his forehead. Zen can’t tell whether it’s from the heat or from the effort needed to withstand six guys offering advice on proper grilling technique.

A cool breeze tumbles through the porch, carrying the muted voices of a dozen conversations. Zen closes his eyes, letting the smell of smoke and the heat of the day wash over him, the swing rocking gently on its chains.

It’s nice, having all this. People he can anticipate. People he can depend on. Friends. The real kind, not just kids whose parents went to the same prep school as his.

This isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

A year ago that would have sent him scrambling-- last minute tickets and crumpled up itineraries paired with the crushing guilt of never being enough. But now--

Now he knows this is where he wants to be. And there’s only one person to thank for that.

“Hey.” His eyes slit open, and there she is, brilliant smile and bright hair, peeping around the post. “Enjoying yourself?”

Zen drops his legs from the rail to make room. “I am now.”

Shirayuki’s mouth slants, playfully wry, and his heart strains against his sternum like a dog testing its leash. “It looked like you were before too.”

“Well, sure.” He wishes he had Obi’s obnoxious aviators right now, if only so she couldn’t see the eager way he watches her as she comes up, tucking herself neatly onto the opposite end of the swing. “But even more now that you’re around.”

Freckles disappear behind a bloom of pink, settling in on either cheek.  “Ah, w-well,” she stammers, staring at her bare toes. “It’s good to know you don’t regret staying here.”

“Instead of being with my family?” He laughs, incredulous, draping his arm over the back of the swing. His fingers just barely brush the freckles on her shoulder. “More like I’m thankful for the excuse.”

Her smile dims. “Oh, um, right. You and Izana...”

She hesitates. There’s a wealth of ways she could end that thought, but instead she says, “It must be nice. I mean, the place your family has, not...”

The fraught relationship you have with your brother. She doesn’t have to say it for him to know exactly what she means.

“It’s all right, I guess,” he allows, wishing she’d sit closer, that she’d give him a good reason to put his arm around her for real, and not just let him awkwardly hang here. “I mean, it’s just a house. The beach is nice though. Private, of course.”

That doesn’t stop his mother from inviting the paparazzi if she thinks it will make a good photo op. Last year he’d made the cover of the Inquirer, face scrunched and unattractive as Izana has splashed sea water in his face, with the words Final Frolic for World’s Most Eligible Bachelor? There had been a two-page spread inside, dedicated entirely to the relationship rumors Izana had accrued since Valentine’s Day.

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that this year. No paparazzo was going to stake out a college frat to take pictures of an illegal fireworks show. Now Haki could deal with having her picture slapped across the tabloids because mother thought candid shots made for better family photos.

“Ah, right...” Her laugh stutters out, awkward and endearing. “That sounds...good?”

Shirayuki’s still next to him, the heat from her skin humid against his fingertips, but she’s never felt so far. He grunts, frustrated, shifting closer.

“There’s an old carousel on the island too,” he offers, haltingly. He’s not sure why the impulse takes him to tell her; why he thinks she, specifically, might like it, save that when he looks at her it’s the same as when he saw those hand-carved horses the first time, well-loved and shining beneath antique lights.

“Oh!” She blinks. “My grandparents took me to one of those, once! Back when we visited...”

Her mouth works silently for a moment before pulling tight, the bittersweet twist making her smile more grimace than grin.

“Well, you’d love this one,” he assures her, sweat pricking at his palms. “It’s the oldest in the US. But it’s still really nice! I’ll take you next--”

His words slam to a stop, running headlong into the barrier of his teeth. She’s staring at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted, and-- and what can he say? I’ll take you next year, when my brother suddenly approves of you.

Yeah, he knows better than to hold his breath for that.

“I’m glad, anyway.” She folds her legs up on the swing, one arm hooked around her knees, and tilts her head back. “It’s nice for all of us to be here, together.”

Her eyes are closed, face serene in the evening light, like she could just sit here forever, breathing into the twilight. His heart flutters just looking at her, at the way she relaxes next to him, content with the slow rock he eases them into. No one can just be the way Shirayuki can.

“It is,” he agrees softly, because anything but a whisper might break this moment, might let the rest of the world in. “It’s going to be weird when you...”

He tries to stop himself, but her eyes fly open before he can. Of course, the one moment he’s gotten her to himself, and he’s gone and ruined it by bringing that up.

“I just mean...” He laughs, tipping his head back on scroll of wood behind his head. “It’s going to be strange when you and Obi are gone next year.”

A month from now, really. It looms over him, a ticking clock that chimes every evening, telling him he’s wasted another day if it wasn’t with her.

“Oh!” Her head snaps upright, cheeks flushed. “I-- I guess. I didn’t really think...” She bites her lip; he wants to kiss it. “Mitsuhide won’t be here either!”

He blinks. It’s true, but he’s never actually thought about that. Mitsuhide has always been in the house, it seems, never the president but a calming influence just to the side of him, and now--

Well, it’ll just be him and Kiki next year. And the rest of the frat, of course, plus all the new pledges.

Still, the future is distinctly more lonely than he’d like.

“He’ll be close, though,” he says, if only to hear the words out loud. “Harvard is a bit of a drive from here, but now that him and Kiki are, you know...”

Banging. That’s what he means to say at least, what he would say if he didn’t, last minute, remember who he was talking to. The last thing he needs is to get a scolding about taking feelings seriously and supporting their friends. Especially when he’d rather be talking about another relationship entirely.

“...Together,” he settles on, and she hums, approving.

“I’m glad that happened.” She rests her chin on her knees, surveying the lawn. Kiki’s abandoned the fireworks committee, instead shooing away the flock of fraters that have congregated around the grill. “They’re good for each other.”

“Made for each other,” he agrees, tickling her shoulder with his thumb. She squirms, a giggle bubbling out from her lips. “Just like...”

Us. He wants to say it, so bad it’s almost an ache, but-- it’s not fair. Not when they’re not really anything, when they can’t be anything, because--

I don’t know if being with me like…like that will be…good for you. I don’t think either of us are ready for that sort of…of attention.

-- Because everything about his life makes things complicated.

“I’m...happy for them,” he says, because he is, because there’s no two people in the world who deserve every bit of goodness they can wring from life more than they do. Even if that leaves him on the outside, again.

“Me too.” Shirayuki smiles, soft and fond, and it’s impossible to believe it’s barely been ten months since he met her, that she isn’t someone he’s known his whole life, not when she just slips seamlessly into every part.

Her hand reaches out, taking his, cool in the evening breeze. “I’ll miss you too.”

His breath catches in his chest, painful. Maybe she feels so familiar because he’s been waiting for her his whole life, too.

“I-I mean, all of you, of course,” she stammers, pink flooding her cheeks, and oh, he wishes he could just lean over now and kiss her, like he was some normal boy with a normal crush and normal expectations of privacy. “I’m excited to go, but...it won’t be the same without everyone.”

Good. He smothers a grin. This whole trip is a great opportunity for her, he knows that-- how could he not, when Izana keeps reminding him about the connections she’ll make-- but--

Two years seems excessive. After a year, she’ll realize that too. And then she can come back for senior year, live in the frat, graduate, spend the summer with him in the Vineyard, and--

“We should do something together,” she says, fingers knotted around his, shoulders rounded shyly.

“Yes!” he blurts out, squeezing way too hard. “Definitely”

“All of us!”

“Ah...” That wasn’t what he thought she was going for. “I mean...”

“One last big adventure.” Her lips spread giddily. “Just the five of us. For now, of course,” she adds, “we’ll be coming back.”

“Oh, ah...” He blinks, staring down at where her hands are tangled with his. She has little over a month left here, and what he really wants is to be doing this, this whole...being together thing, but--

But it’s not like this is going anywhere either. Two years is a long time, but they’ll be sitting here just like this when she gets back. Well-- with more kissing, he hopes.

He can wait. He’s not the only one who will miss her. “Yeah, that sounds...nice.”

His eyes flick up, catching her just as she sinks teeth into the soft pillow of her lip, leaving a dent that begs to be soothed. Zen swallows, hard.

Well, a friendly getaway will have its opportunities for some, ah, private time too. He just has to create them.

“I was thinking,” he starts, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair, trying to be, you know, casual. “What if we--?”

“Hey.” Kiki perches herself across from them with a deftness that says she’s been hanging out with Obi too much. “Burgers are off the grill.”

“Great,” Zen grits out with a glare. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Kiki hums, brow raising dubiously. “What are you two up to out here?”

“Nothing.” He glowers at her, wishing she would just take a hint. “Just talking.”

“Ah.” Her mouth twitches. “I see.”

“We were just talking about taking a trip!” Shirayuki blurts out excitedly, red-faced and glowing. “All of us! One last adventure before me and Obi go to Lyrias.”

Kiki blinks at that, cocking her head. “What were you thinking?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know.” A giggle burst nervously from her as she smooths the hem of her shorts over her thighs. “We hadn’t really gotten that far.”

All right, it’s time to drag this conversation back on track. Zen clears his throat. “Kiki, doesn’t your dad have that house in the Berkshires? We could go for a weekend, maybe take in the--”

“Why? We’re already in western Mass. What will a forty minute drive get us?” She wrinkles her nose. “It isn’t even peak foliage season.”

Privacy, he wants to say, but he knows how poorly that idea would fly with her. For someone who always seems to find time to be alone with her boytoy, Kiki’s awfully invested in seeing that he never has any with his girl...thing.

“Hm, I wasn’t really think a trip-trip either,” Shirayuki admits, crushing his dreams of a nice afternoon alone in a hammock, just the two of them and their bathing suits. “But something like an, ah...activity. Like an amusement park.” She perks. “Do you have something like that out here?”

“Six Flags!” he blurts out before he can even consider what he’s saying. “It’s only a half hour away, and the coasters are supposed to be some of the best. I mean, if you, ah, like that sort of thing.”

Which he doesn’t, but there’s really no need to mention that. Not when she lights up like she does, hands clapping together over her heart.

“That sounds perfect! I’ve never been to one of those.” She leans in, conspiratorial. “Opa always got vertigo on the Turkish Twist.”

He may not know what that thing is, but it sounds gut-wrenching enough to keep in head in the trash for a good ten minutes. Zen plasters a smile on his face, steadfastly ignoring the arch look Kiki gives him-- god, that’s the last thing he needs, Kiki deciding it would be funny to tell the story of when they rode the Tower of Terror in middle school-- and says, “I’ll go on any ride you want.”

Kiki makes an unearthly noise, somewhere between a cough and a choke, and he braces for it, for the you know, Zen can tell you the location of every trashcan in Hollywood Studios--

“When were you thinking?” she says instead, mouth just barely twitching at the corner. “It’s going to be busy this weekend.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki’s eyes round, matching the curve of her mouth. “I didn’t think of that. It doesn’t have to be right now. Maybe in another...week? Or so?”

Kiki whips out her phone, flicking through with one finger. “How about...the seventeenth?”

“Ah...” Shirayuki squints, eyes rolling upward like her brain is an open book she can skim for answers. “Y-yes. I think that’s all right.”

Zen stares. “Did you just...pick a random date?”

“No.” Kiki clicks her screen off, slipping it back into her pocket. “This weekend will still have traffic from the fourth. Next week we’re supposed to submit our paperwork to the student affairs office for this semester, and I know you haven’t started. I don’t want to go during a weekend rush, and Thursday is far into the week where if we have any last second problems with student affairs, we won’t have to reschedule.” She holds out a hand, ta-da. “The seventeenth.”

It’s not fair how she can just...do all that. “W-well, all right. But we still have to make sure that Obi and Mitsuhide--”

“Hey, Obi,” Kiki calls out, catching his attention as he cuts across the lawn toward them. “What are you doing on July seventeenth?”

In full sunlight, in the view of every member of the frat, Obi stumbles over absolutely nothing. “W-what?”

“July seventeenth.” she repeats archly as he slinks up beside her, arms resting on the rail. “Are you doing anything.”

When he thinks of Obi at rest, he thinks of languid limbs, of a frustratingly canted smile and glittering eyes, but--

He’s not any of that now. His troublesome mouth lays in a tense line, the corners of his eyes creased and wary. “Why?”

“We want to go somewhere, all five of us,” Shirayuki informs him giddily, mouth stretching from ear to hear. “And Zen suggested Six Flags--”

“Oh no.” He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “No way. Hard pass. I don’t do amusement parks.”

Kiki arches a brow, unimpressed. “Is that so.”

“Yeah.” He tosses his head, mouth straining towards casual derision and falling short. “Not my scene.”

“Oh really.” The mild look Kiki levels at him had leveled lesser men, but Obi only flinches. “Too cool for them, huh?”

His shoulders twitch. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Ohh,” Zen grins, enjoying the way Obi squirms like a cat with his head caught in a fence. “So you mean that’s not really the reason? You have some other secret, terrible Bugs Bunny trauma in your past, maybe?”

“Well, I have to tell you,” Obi says loftily, “I’ve never really cared for Yosemite Sam.”

Shirayuki frowns. “We really don’t have to--”

“I think we all know this is just to obscure your Lola Bunny fetish,” Kiki deadpans.

“Excuse me?” Obi presses a hand to his chest, aghast. “Space Jam is a formative experience. To say any of us don’t owe Lola Bunny--”

“Hey.” Mitsuhide hops up the steps, wiping the sweat pouring down his neck. Zen valiantly doesn’t notice how Kiki stares. “The burgers have been done for a bit. What’s keeping all of you?”

“Obi is allergic to fun,” Kiki informs him, earning a shocked gasp from Obi.

“That’s not it!” he protests. “You just want to go to Six Flags--”

“Oh, Six Flags!” Mitsuhide’s mouth break into a guileless grin. “I love amusement parks.”

Obi stares, jaw slack. “Big Guy, don’t do this to me...”

Zen grins. “I dunno, Obi. Looks like you’re outvoted.”

Shirayuki shifts beside him, wringing her hands. “Oh no, I don’t think-- if Obi doesn’t want to go, we can just pick--”

“Nah.” Obi waves her off, one hand clasping at his shoulder. “You guys can do what you want. I’ll just sit this one out.”

“Obi--”

“I better check in on Shiira,” he says, stilted. “Don’t want them blowing up the front forty by accident.”

Shirayuki half stands, but it’s too late, he’s already sauntering away, laughing at he calls out to the brothers on the lawn.

“Don’t worry, Shirayuki.” Mitsuhide assures her with a clap on her shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

“I...” Zen watches the way her mouth sets, too knowing, a grim white line cutting through the flush of her face. “I don’t know about that.”

[mistydacat]

Marichat May Day 1|| Witch AU

This story is loosely based off of Spatziline's Halloween AU comic which is linked below.

Marinette got up from her bed and stretched. Cat Noir, who had curled up at the end of her bed, peaked his little head out at her. He flicked his tail in annoyance, probably from the fact that Marinette had woken him.

"Sorry, Kitty." She apologized, reaching to pet his soft fur. He purred.

"All is forgiven?" She asked, her fingers rubbing under his chin.

She watched as his little cat body morphed into that of a human. He grew until he was taller than her, the fur on his face and body disappeared, replaced with pale skin. The hair on his head turned blond and grew longer. His eyes took on a human shape, though their unnatural green colour and diamond-shaped pupil stayed. His cat ears and tail remained.

Marinette's hand was still holding his face in a tender caress. His purring got louder.

"All is forgiven." His voice came, soft and soothing, but with a hint of mischief.

"Good." She retracted her hand. "So you'll let me work now."

Cat Noir's face fell. "I never said that. And what work do you have anyway, my Purr-incess?"

Marinette laughed. "I've been reading the spellbook, and you'll never guess what I found."

Cat Noir raised a brow. "What is it?"

"You know Pinocchio, right?" She asked.

"Yes..?" He didn't know where this was going.

"Well, I've found a potion that has similar effects as Pinocchio's curse. For every lie told from the drinker's mouth, their nose is to grow an inch."

"An inch for every lie?"

"Precisely. What a smart kitten you are!"

Cat Noir decided to let her sarcasm go this time. "Now I'm interested. Who's it meant for?"

Marinette smirked at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

"It's Lila Rossi, isn't it?"

"I prefer calling her 'Lie-la.'"

"Of course you do."

"Anyway," Said Marinette. "It's best if we start as sooner rather than later, this potion takes a while to make."

"I don't get any belly rubs?" He pouted.

"Maybe if you behave, you'll get something better." She teased, patting his head. She got out of bed and stretched again.

"I'm going to get changed. You start breakfast, okay?" She instructed.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About an hour later, Marinette was perched on a wooden stool with her spell book propped open on a reading stand.

"Hey, Kitty. Can you get the cauldron started with some water?" She called.

"Will do!" Cat Noir saluted and went off to complete his assigned task.

As Cat set up the cauldron, Marinette started setting out their required ingredients.

"It's ready." He said after the water started boiling.

"Thank you, Kitty." She placed a quick kiss on his forehead.

"Not that I'm complaining, but all I did was boil some water."

"Then use that as motivation to help me finish this. Now, crush these snake scales." She said, handing him a jar of said snake scales.

"Will I get another kiss?"

"We'll see about that when we're done."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

They spent the morning and a good portion of the afternoon working on the potion. The recipe for the concoction was easy enough. However, it was particularly bothersome to make, as it was required that all the ingredients be boiled separately, then mixed together, and boiled again.

When they finished, they ended up with a single vial of red-black liquid. Now Marinette and Cat Noir just had to figure out how to get Lila to ingest it.

"I think I have an idea. How good are your baking skills?"

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An hour later, Lila Rossi heard a knock on her door. When she went outside to check, she was surprised to be greeted by an empty porch.

"Hello?" She called out, but the only being there other than herself was a small, black cat, sitting near the bushes.

Lila noticed a neatly wrapped package and a card lying near her feet. Curious, she picked it up.

"From your secret admirer." She read the card aloud. Lila opened the package, revealed a dozen red, heart-shaped cookies.

"Oh, how sweet! Though it seems my admirer was too much of a coward to show themselves." She remarked.

If Lila hadn't been as ignorant as she was, she would've noticed a witch hat peeking out of the bushes. She also would have noticed that the seemingly innocent black cat lying in the grass had hissed when she spoke and was now glaring at her.

But Lila was ignorant, among other things, and didn't notice.

She picked up a cookie and took a bite.

"Not bad." She murmured to no one in particular.

She went back inside, unaware of the horrors that were to unfold the next day.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Do I get my kiss now?" Cat Noir asked Marinette when they had returned home.

"Not yet, silly Cat." She said, swatting him away as though he were a pesky fly. "I want to see if it worked first."

"And why wouldn't it? It was made by the best witch in the world!"

"Don't flatter me. It won't get you that kiss any sooner."

Cat Noir pouted. "A cat can try."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The next day, Lila Rossi had invited her "friends" on a picnic. Though they weren't really her friends, just people she had managed to woo by lying and deceiving them at every turn.

Her so-called "friends" consisted of Alya Césaire, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Alix Kubdel, Mylène Haprèle, and of course, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"Adrien isn't joining us today?" Observed Lila.

"He's busy." Said Marinette through clenched teeth. Adrien Agreste was, in fact, busy. Busy sleeping on Marinette's lap and purring, that is. Adrien hadn't even gotten an invitation to this picnic.

"Anyways. I called you all here today to tell you about something amazing that happened yesterday!" She gushed.

Ah, just as Cat Noir had predicted. If all went according to plan, Lila wouldn't be telling them she had just found some cookies at her doorstep the other day.

"What is it?" Asked Rose, curious.

"You see, yesterday Adrien Agreste showed up at my door with flowers and these expensive flowers and heart cookies! He said that I was the love of his life and asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him I didn't know what to say, so I'd answer him today."

Ah, and so it begins.

She had told three lies. Adrien Agreste had not shown up at her door, he had not called her the love of his life, and she had not said she would get back to him on that.

As expected, her nose grew three inches.

The girls collectively gasped, but Lila thought they had been shocked at her story.

"So, I called you here today to ask you how I could reject him without hurting his feelings." She had lied again. She had really called to tell them this made-up story, and probably get a reaction out of Marinette.

Her nose grew another inch.

"Lila?" Squeaked Rose.

"What?" She asked.

"Um... Your nose..?" Started Alix, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

"What about my nose?" She reached up to touch it, only to be greeted by an extra four inches of cartilage.

Lila screamed. "My nose!"

"Calm down! There's has to be a logical explanation for this!" Said Alya.

"Pinocchio." Said Marinette flatly.

"Huh?" Asked Alya.

"Every time she lies, her nose grows." Explained Marinette, "At least, that's my theory." The girls glared at Marinette.

"Even in this situation, you have the nerve to call me a liar!?" Gasped Lila. "I didn't know you hated me so much! I would never lie to you guys!"

Another inch.

"Lila, what colour is your hair?" Asked Marinette.

"What? Brown, of course! Are you okay, Marinette?"

Her nose did not grow.

Alya seemed to catch on. "Okay, now tell us your eyes are blue." She said.

"You guys know my eye colour! Why are you telling me to do this?" She laughed nervously.

Alya crossed her arms. "Lie to us about your eye colour and prove Marinette either wrong or right, then we'll know what kind of friend you really are."

Lila sighed in defeat. "I-I have blue eyes." She lied.

Another inch.

And that settled it.

"You guys! I've never lied to you before this! I swear!"

Even when she knew she had lost, Lila still kept going, as though she thought her nose would take pity on her and not grow another inch.

The girls (and Cat Noir) got up from the table, angry at Lila's betrayal. They didn't care to help her figure out how this had happened, it served her right! They left her to figure out what to do with her seven-inch nose by herself.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Does the kitty get his kiss now?" Asked Cat Noir. They had arrived home, and Marinette had changed into her pyjamas and was getting ready for bed.

"I never promised." She taunted.

Cat Noir's ears flattened against his head, he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

"I'm just kidding! Silly Kitty!" She sat on her bed and opened her arms in an embrace. "C'mere my Kitten."

One thing she had learned about Cat Nor is that he was a sucker for hugs and cuddles. He displayed this more in his cat form, but as he wrapped his arms around her and curled himself into a ball at her lap, it became apparent he enjoyed cuddles in his human-ish body as well.

He purred. "That's a new one." He murmured.

"Huh?"

"You've never called me 'your kitten' before."

She lifted his chin with his finger, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Well, you are my little kitten, Mon Petit Chaton."

"I like that." His purring continued. "But don't tell me that was supposed to be my kiss."

"'Course not, this is your kiss."

Without any warning, Marinette captured his lips in hers. He almost gasped in surprise, but didn't fight back. Their kiss was short and sweet, and before he knew it, Marinette was pulling away.

"Now, that just won't do." He murmured against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss.

Marinette's eyes widened in surprise, but she kissed back, her hands tangling in his hair as he gripped her waist. She kissed him harder and pulled him closer to her.

They pulled away, panting and red, unsure of what they should do now.

Cat placed a kiss on her forehead. They gazed at each other, a little dazed. Neither of them spoke.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time..." He whispered, breaking the silence.

"Me too."

He nuzzled her cheek, earning a giggle from Marinette.

"It's getting late, Mon Petit Chaton. We should get to sleep now."

Cat Noir crawled off of her, transforming into a cat and curling up at the end of the bed.

"Sleep well, my kitten."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Spaziline’s Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-4E3ElM7Bg&feature=emb_title

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

[haloud]

many times, many ways

a malex christmas gift for christi @michaels-blackhat, who inspired me into holiday fluff and who spent this month writing wonderful gifts--I hope you enjoy this one in return! Happy holidays, everyone!

-- ao3 --

An unmarked package. An envelope, more accurately, hand-folded out of plain brown paper and left right in front of Alex’s front door. Buffy is sniffing at it before Alex can stop her; he snags her by the collar, heart in his throat, but she’s close enough to nudge it with her nose. Alex holds his breath, but she just lets out a soft boof, then loses interest and heads back inside. Alex, however, can’t be quite so cavalier. It may not have exploded when Buffy moved it, but there are ways other than explosives that a strange package can fuck you up. He fetches a pair of gloves and a particle mask before he even touches it. A small gesture toward security, maybe, but it makes him feel safe enough to work a pocketknife under the tape and slowly pull the paper apart.

Alex blinks twice at what’s inside. Pulls his mask off so it falls around his neck and blinks again. Reaches out to touch it.

It’s…a Christmas ornament. But not any, it’s—it’s light in his palm, a tiny thing, a miniature of a poster he had as a kid, the one Maria smuggled into his car after school and he hung up in the toolshed where no one would see it. Alex holds it up. Dangling from a scrap of black ribbon, the little orange rectangle catches the light, gleaming off the black enamel picking out the singer’s little face and the Danger! At the Picture Show lettering. It’s cold when he clenches it in his fist, heart pumping a hundred miles an hour.

For a second, he’s seventeen again, and he has to laugh at the memory of that kid he used to be, earbuds stuffed in his ears, knees jammed up against the desk waiting for the first period bell to ring. He grins despite himself, turning over the paper again, searching for any kind of note or indication who it’s from. Rosa, maybe? Secret presents are definitely her thing, and she was the one who gave him his first DatPS CD when he was fourteen. Maria is the other person who comes to mind, but Alex hopes she would just give it to him in person—he doesn’t like to think of her being too anxious to give him something like this face to face, what with all the mending fences going on.

He smooths his thumb over the ornament’s glossy surface one more time, then puts it on a shelf for safekeeping for lack of anywhere more festive to put it. He doesn’t really decorate for Christmas; the holidays were only ever more of the same when he was a kid, with a thin, grotesque veneer of family over the top of it.

Things get even more festive the next day, though, when he gets home from work and finds another package, in the same brown paper, sitting on the porch steps. It’s bigger this time, three dimensional, and after a moment of deliberation, Alex picks up the phone. Guerin might laugh at him, but that’s a price he has to be willing to pay.

He doesn’t laugh, though. He rolls up in his truck, that, despite the circumstances and the vaguely tipsy feeling of fear lurking in his blood, Alex has to laugh at—there’s a sprig of mistletoe wrapped in bright red ribbon hanging from the rearview mirror.

Michael bounds over to him and says, slightly breathless, “What did you need me to check out?”

Alex waves his hand in the direction of the stairs. “It’s probably nothing. I got something similar yesterday, and it was fine, I just—”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I get it. Here, let me.” Michael squeezes Alex’s shoulder, a quick, warm, reassuring touch, then takes a step back. Focusing, he narrows his eyes at the little package, then wings it in an arc off into the empty desert.

A second passes. Nothing blows up. Michael pulls the package back in.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Sorry if whatever’s in there broke. But whoever sent it to you should have known better. Fucking idiot.”

Alex lets out a long breath, forcing his shoulders to drop and his brow to smooth. “No, it’s okay. ‘Tis the season, right? It could be from anyone.”

“Still.” Michael’s mouth curls downward, like he tastes something foul, like he tends to look whenever he tries to make nice with Kyle. It’s exasperating. It’s also a little sweet, in a twisted way.

The box has the same wrapping, same tape job as yesterday’s envelope. It comes apart easily, and inside is—Alex pulls it out, holds it up.

It’s. It’s an alien, full-on little green man alien, holding up its noodly little hands in two peace signs. Wearing a Santa hat. Covered in gaudy glitter. And still intact—only one piece has snapped off, a little piece of red molding clay that someone clearly fashioned so an ornament hook could go through it.

After a shocked second, Alex lets out a very uncharacteristic giggle; then, face burning, he drops the little alien back into the box and glances up at Michael, who’s watching him with his head tilted and a shy smile of his own on his pink mouth.

Their eyes meet for a long, breath-catching moment, a spark jumping through the cold, dry air from one body to the next. Then they both look away, clearing throats, shoving hands in pockets, and looking up at the sky instead of back at each other, each of them so large in the other’s sight to block out the sun.

“Secret Santa?” Michael says, voice cheerfully flippant. He’s still grinning somehow. Alex wants to wipe that look off his face. With his own face.

“Something like that.”

“Next time try to get someone who knows you better than to get that touristy shit.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Michael leaves after that, making it both easier and harder to breathe. Touristy shit aside, Alex puts the Santa alien on the shelf beside the first ornament, and later that night, after tossing and turning for a little while, he grabs his crutches, goes to the shelf, gropes in Jim’s old toolbox for a tube of superglue, and hunches over the coffee table to fix the clay part, making it an ornament once again.

One is an event. Two is a coincidence. Three ornaments in three days, and it’s a pattern.

No brown paper package shows up the third day; rather, he finds the ornament when he checks his mailbox in town. It’s a little laptop this time, nothing special, but it still brings a smile to his face when he holds it in his palm.

Who could the mystery sender be? It turns into something of an obsession over the next few days, which see him receiving a log cabin, a beagle, and a beautiful handmade silver and turquoise songbird. It’s clearly someone who knows him now, and someone who knows him well enough to know his home, his pet, what he does for a living…it’s a narrow field, to be sure—basically just Maria, Liz, Kyle, or Rosa. He rubs his thumb over the beagle’s little painted nose while Buffy shoots it a suspicious look from the couch as he considers his options.

Whoever it is, Guerin must know, because since the second day, the ornaments have arrived in his mailbox or on his porch unwrapped or in clear plastic wrap if it’s raining out.

Of course, all the evidence could point toward it being Guerin himself. But…somehow, Alex can’t bring himself to believe it, if only because the thought of Michael thinking of him like this, over time, with dedication, makes Alex’s chest ache with longing to see him, to hear him, to feel him. Better it be some scheme of Rosa’s. It’s just…better that way.

The gifts keep coming. Day seven, it’s the Air Force crest; on the eighth and ninth days, he finds a sunbathing alien and a bowl of ramen on his front step. They both go on the increasingly-crowded shelf, though he shoots the ramen a nasty look when he puts it in place. Another point in the Maria column, considering last time he went to one of her movie nights, he was asked to put pizza rolls in the oven and managed to burn them despite absolutely following the instructions on the package.

The tenth day’s ornament arrives in a blue Tupperware container, just translucent enough to see the ornament inside, but not so much he can tell what it is.

He opens it and finds a ball ornament wrapped in strips of paper cut from dictionaries in ten languages he can identify, including all six he speaks. It’s sturdy papier-mâché, but Alex still holds it like it might shatter if he breathes on it too hard. Every line defines things like family, like love, like forever. He returns it to its box and puts it on the shelf with the others, but his fingers linger over the lid, because there are lines he hasn’t traced with his fingertips yet, and he can hardly tear himself away.

He goes into town later that day on a grocery run with words still swimming in his mind and his mouth fixed shut because he’s not sure what might come out. But no level of distraction or concentration could keep him from being blindsided when he runs into Guerin outside the Crashdown, their bodies catching shoulder to shoulder, Guerin’s hand on his arm to steady him—their collision almost knocked a big box out of Guerin’s hands, but he steadies it with a little help from his powers until Alex has his balance back and he can take it in both hands again.

“Alex,” he breathes, then clears his throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Alex manages.

Guerin shakes the box lightly. “Liz wants to surprise Arturo with the decorations this year, so I figured I’d offer my services. I’m the only one who can get tinsel into all the hard-to-reach places, after all.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s really nice.”

“Nah, I’m getting paid. Mostly in milkshakes and fries, but who’s complaining?”

They stare across the box. It’s been like this, lately, a small talk stiffness to their interactions, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it stop. But at the same time, he isn’t sure he wants to. It’s almost…nice. A couple weeks ago Alex drove by the junkyard just because he could, and Michael smelled like snow and pine and commented on the weather, and that brief exchange left the both of them grinning like idiots by the time Alex drove away. They aren’t lovers again, not yet. But they’re something. They’re getting there.

“Want some help? I’m free tonight,” Alex says, and Michael smiles at him, and that’s that. Alex comes back late, once the Crashdown is closed and Arturo is in bed. Liz and Rosa come downstairs to work on the decorations too, and more hands makes for light work, though Michael does most of the work without using his hands at all. They’re finished in no time. Alex plugs the lights in, flips the switch, and Rosa laughs, real and unrestrained and tugging Liz into the middle of the floor, dotted with multicolored puddles of light, twirling her in a circle. Sometime during the decorating, Rosa managed to stick Michael with a present ribbon, and it bobbles on top of his curls as he slinks over to Michael’s side to knock their shoulders together. Alex lets him, in the spirit of the season, and because every time Michael touches him his body goes weightless.

Now is as good a time to ask as any.

“So, Guerin,” he says, “I’m still getting ornaments every day. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that you haven’t told me, would you?”

Michael shrugs and grins that cowboy grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

“Secret, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

And before Alex can say another word, Michael is walking away to join Liz and Rosa dancing, whistling Let It Snow. He gets away from Alex that time, but before their little impromptu party is over, Alex manages to steal the bow from his hair, just glancing his fingers off those curls, so lightly Guerin doesn’t even seem to notice.

Whether he’s the ornament giver or not, Alex puts the bow on the shelf with the others. Just in case.

The next day, there’s no ornament when he leaves in the morning, and nothing in his mailbox when he checks it that evening, either. He’s—frustrated, okay, rather than sad, because what was the point? Stopping ten days in, what was even the point? It leaves him feeling untethered, without that tiny little thing to look forward to each and every day. Somehow, without even really noticing, he’d kind of gotten into the Christmas spirit. He even, feeling ridiculous the entire time, went to the pet store and bought a couple gifts for his dog, because he’s in a gift-giving mood even if he’s not sure he’s exchanging gifts with anyone else this year.

He shoulders his way out of the office, avoiding eye contact with the clerk, who’s surely noticed him coming in every single day, when he used to only check his mail once a week at best. Whatever. Now he has no reason to come back so often, and they’ve got plenty of time to forget him, like the way things should be.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he almost smacks Maria right in the face with the door as he leaves. She yelps, and he catches it at just the last second, tripping over apologies while she flaps her hand at him dismissively.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Alex, really,” she laughs. Alex steadies her with his hands on her shoulders, and she tugs him to the side, out of the way of the sidewalk traffic. “I was hoping to run into you anyway. I have something for you.”

Oh shit. Anxiety spikes, and Alex blabbers, “Oh, shit, Maria, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know we were doing gifts this year—”

Great. Their friendship is finally finding even footing again, and Alex immediately puts himself in the red again by hitting her with a door and tells her straight up that he didn’t get her anything for Christmas. Batting a fuckin’ thousand, isn’t he. No wonder his secret admirer or whatever got bored of him.

“Alex, seriously, chill.” She tweaks his chin. “No presents is one hundred percent fine. You think I’m all about worshipping at the capitalist altar that is Christmas? Hell no. Buuut someone asked me for a favor, and it just so happened that I had something for you anyway, so here you go.”

She grabs his hand and presses into it a beautifully beaded eight-pointed star, red and white and gold. Alex gasps, and says, “This is—”

“One of Mom’s, yeah.” That wry, sad smile Maria gets when she talks about her mother curls up on her face. “She makes a lot of them on her good days, and her nurse says it’s good that she’s working with her hands. And Mom specifically said this one was for you.”

“God.” Alex swallows and grips the star as tightly as he can without crushing it. “Let me know next time you’re going to visit her, okay? So I can thank her in person?”

“Sure thing.”

Maria blinks rapidly for a moment, and Alex, understanding, doesn’t mention it. She composes herself quickly, and then Alex just has to ask:

“So it hasn’t been you the whole time, has it?”

“What, leaving you the ornaments? I am not that sappy.”

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with being a little sentimental,” he teases.

“Uh huh. Sure. I forgot I was talking to the master of fuzzy feelings himself.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Maria laughs at that and, hooking her arm through his, starts off down the street. “Now, we may not be exchanging presents this year, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you help me with the rest of my shopping.”

--

The next day’s ornament is a classic Han Solo one, and if Alex lets out an undignified gasp when he sees it, Buffy is the only creature around to witness it. If he spends the rest of the day finding and watching the Star Wars Christmas Special, well, the same goes for that too, and his dignity is firmly intact.

The day after that, Liz texts him to come to the Crashdown, and since it’s a weekend he makes it there to meet her on her lunch break. The decorations look just as good in the daylight, if an inch or two less magical, and Alex has to duck his head to hide his grin when he remembers Michael very seriously placing a Santa hat on each individual alien in the place.

Liz beckons him over to a booth, two shakes and a plate of fries already in front of her. “Figured since I called you out, I could at least treat you,” she says. “On top of what I called you here for, which is….” She does a little drumroll on the table, then plonks an ornament box down on the table.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex bursts out.

“I know, right? I couldn’t believe it when I found it.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Alex picks it up. It’s a cat wearing an antenna headband so, so similar to the one perched on Liz’s head—the wrong shade of green, but still.

“I don’t suppose this is your way of telling me you’ve been leaving me ornaments all month, is it.”

“Pfft, no way.” Liz steals a fry from his tray and crunches it smugly. “Secret admirer, Manes. It’s supposed to be secret.”

Day fourteen is something delicate, so much so he’s a little scared to touch it. It’s thin glass, deep blue, and when it catches a light source it sends shimmering blue all around the room. It’s the day Alex stops trying to guess who his mystery gift-giver is, because now he’s been given light to hold in his hands, and it makes him feel—makes him—

Someone thought he was worthy of this. Someone wanted him to have it. Whether or not they ever tell him who they are, that means something.

His fifteenth ornament is the third one to come wrapped in a package, but this time it’s in an actual USPS shipping box, and it comes with a letter inside, in handwriting he recognizes.

Captain, it says, we got pressed into service again, and I was the unlucky bastard who drew the short straw, so I’m sending this to you, along with a warning that you fucking owe me…

The ornament is basic, a decently pretty white and silver snowflake. He puts the letter on the shelf with it. If the season is forcing everyone else into a sentimental mood, he might as well succumb to it too.

He wakes up on the sixteenth day with a bit of a sentiment hangover and lets himself lie in bed for a little while longer than usual, fondling Buffy’s soft ears and cradling this lovely, bittersweet feeling inside himself. If Christmas is the deadline for this whole ornament thing, he’s over halfway to the end. He takes the morning slowly, lingering over his coffee and over the view of the desert through his kitchen window, the high def white-gray limning of the world you get with a serious cold.

That day’s ornament doesn’t match Alex’s mood at all, but he still chuckles and shakes his head when he sees it. It’s another patch job like the Santa alien, but this time some sort of Valentines leftover—a traditional Roswell Gray holding a big red heart that says you’re out of this world!, with a handmade place for ornament hooks to go. It looks absurdly out of place next to everything else he’s accumulated, but he gives it its place of honor anyway.

He doesn’t expect his seventeenth ornament to arrive on the doorstep or in the mail, and sure enough, the pattern holds and it’s hand delivered at like ten o’clock that night. He almost doesn’t answer the door, but to be honest he’d left his leg on after work expecting just this.

“Ho ho ho,” an exhausted-looking Kyle says, shoving a box into Alex’s hands.

“Dude, did you drive all the way out here after your shift? It could have waited.”

“Nah, this is my one good deed for the year.”

“You’re literally a surgeon. Your job is good deeds.”

“Fine—my one act of charity.”

Alex bristles at that. “I don’t need—”

“Not for you.” Kyle punches him lightly on the shoulder.

Cryptic bastard.

“Go ahead and open it,” Kyle says, “My blood is eighty percent coffee right now, and I want to get home before I crash”

“You know you can stay if you need to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Open it.”

Alex’s eyebrows go straight up when he does and pulls out a shimmery white ball with the Buffy the Vampire Slayer logo on it. “You didn’t pick this out yourself. You asked me why I gave my dog a porn name the first time you met her.”

“Hey! I listened when you explained—” When Alex fixes him with a glare, Kyle gives in with a laugh. “Okay, okay, Rosa helped. Oh ye of little faith.”

Kyle leaves after that, with a quick hug and a Merry Christmas, and Alex goes to his shelf to put the ornament away. He hasn’t been keeping them in chronological order, more a sort of a…thematic grouping. The Buffy ball goes with Maria’s star, Liz’s alien cat, and the snowflake from his unit.

He looks up and turns away, casting his eyes all around the room to hide from no one the fact that he’s getting a little bit choked up.

Maybe he’ll buy some lights tomorrow. Or tinsel or something. No reason he can’t go in on the decorating, right? Why is he still holding himself back?

--

He doesn’t make it to the store the next day, or the two after that, three days that see him receiving a coffee mug, a UFO that’s supposed to light up when it’s plugged in, and a little truck hauling a Christmas tree.

He wonders if maybe that last one is a promise.

The pattern of hand deliveries every other day has been broken. But, in the spirit of the season—Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never got one hand-delivered by Michael and instead chooses to think about the other thing that could mean.

On day twenty-one, he gets a glass teardrop that shimmers purple and golden, and on day twenty-two he gets a golden disc engraved with a tiny, perfect star chart.

The day before Christmas Eve, he opens the door to find an acoustic guitar.

As if he didn’t already know.

--

Christmas Eve dawns gray and dismal with the smell of snow in the air. Buffy trots around the yard in circles, lifting her nose every couple minutes to sniff the cold, and Alex cradles his coffee in both hands to keep them warm while he watches her, content. Part of him regrets that he never went and got more decorations, but it’s okay. This whole month—it’s been such an unexpected thing to be able to accept a simple joy into his life, to let himself expect a little, uncalled-for gift every day, that all he can feel at this point is just…peace. He couldn’t have asked for anything else. He didn’t.

Buffy barks, and Alex looks up just in time to see a familiar truck coming down the road, the bed covered with a tarp. Alex puts his mug down on the railing and regrets it instantly for want of something to do with his hands as Michael parks, opens the door, and jumps out of the car.

“Hey,” Alex says.

“Hey. Merry Christmas,” Michael says in return.

They just stare at each other for a moment, something that happens a lot when it’s just the two of them. Like they have to steel themselves to speak. Like they have to make sure that no, it’s not, it’s not the time to take that step forward and drown themselves in each other. It’s okay, yeah, it’s okay to just be here. Like this.

“Want some help with that?” Alex tilts his chin in the direction of the tarp.

“Y-yeah. Sure.” He stumbles over the word and ducks his head, rounding the truck to reveal what’s underneath.

It’s exactly what Alex expected, and everything he never did. His heart in his throat, he touches one of the branches on the tree, needles pricking his skin, sap sticky on his fingertips when he pulls them away.

“You get the other end,” Michael says, and they carry it inside together, a crate full of other decorations floating along behind them, Buffy pulling up the rear, eyeing it suspiciously. She settles in the corner to watch as Michael sets the tree up, hammers it into the stand, and positions it in the corner where it’ll be out of Alex’s way.

Alex hovers in the kitchen, making them both more coffee, hands shaking a little bit on the grounds, on the filter, on the carafe. The tree still takes up too much room. Michael takes up too much room. He always has. In this tiny house. In Alex’s heart and in his head and between his ribs. Michael pulls things out of the crate one by one and hangs them in the air around himself—bundles of lights, a skirt for the tree, multicolored balls and delicate paper snowflakes to fill all the spots left between the ornaments in Alex’s new collection.

Their fingers brush when Alex hands him a mug, and Alex lets the moment hang there. Skin on skin in the most casual, innocent way, but with Michael’s golden eyes so close it still manages to heat his blood, dry his mouth, cover him in yearning.

“Thanks,” Michael says hoarsely. He drags his index finger along Alex’s as he pulls his hand away, sending a shiver through the both of them.

Decorating for Christmas shouldn’t feel forbidden, but it does. It does, as they circle around each other, spiraling lights around the tree, eyes catching on every pass, Alex’s face so warm every time he sees Michael’s answering blush, on his cheeks, on his lips. Once the lights are on, they start in on the ornaments. Alex picks them off the shelf in chronological order, passing half of them to Michael, keeping half of them—like Mimi’s star, Han Solo, and the guitar—for himself.

“How did you manage it?” He asks eventually, fixing the teardrop to a high branch so Buffy doesn’t get any ideas.

“A friend who knows how to navigate Etsy, a sister with Amazon Prime, and a little bit of old-fashioned gumption.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sure am.” Michael grins with satisfaction at the Valentines alien. Then he sobers a bit and says, “Hey, look, I’m sorry about the packaging the first couple days. I wanted to surprise you—I wasn’t thinking, and I should have.”

“It’s okay. You changed it up, and…yeah. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

A couple minutes pass in silence as Alex searches for what else to say. To ask. Why did he do it? When did he get the idea?

He asks, “What about the others? The ones you had Maria, Liz, Kyle, and the guys pick out? Red herrings, or did you just run out of ideas?”

“Oh, I had lots of ideas.” Michael presses his shoulder to Alex’s, coming in close to hang the star chart right beside the silver bird. Nudging him shyly, Michael says, “But my favorite one was the one where you got reminded how many people care about you.”

Alex almost drops the UFO at that, at Michael’s absurd honesty. He has nothing else to say, and they finish decorating the tree in peaceful silence. When they finish, Alex turns the lights off, and Michael plugs the tree in, and the gray day is dark enough that everything lights up bright like it would in the evening, all the colors of the rainbow.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes. It’s like a punch to the gut, happiness and disbelief and the unavoidable need to hoard this feeling, this moment, that comes on the heels of those feelings.

“So you like it?”

“Fuck,” Alex repeats, “Michael. I love it. It’s…I just…”

“Good.”

Michael, hesitating all the way, reaches out and takes Alex’s hand, sliding their fingers home together.

“I have one more ornament for you.” And he reaches into his pocket.

Alex makes a strangled noise when he sees it. Instinct tells him to rip his hand out of Michael’s and flee to the other side of the room to regroup, but he stays rooted in place, struggling, grasping for anything to say.

The console shard—because that’s what it has to be, just with gauzy ribbon looped and knotted carefully around one end so it dangles neatly from Michael’s fingers—shimmers in the soft rainbow light. Michael’s eyes shimmer along with it, equally as alien.

“I can’t,” Alex blurts. “I can’t take it. Michael. No. It’s—”

“No, no, listen, please.” Michael tugs on his hand like he wants to pull him closer, but Alex can’t—he just can’t—

He can’t be what ties Michael to Earth. He can’t be the sole tether that keeps him here, to the world that hurt him again and again, even if it’s the thing he wants most in the world, to protect, to hoard him like he hoards every sliver of a happy memory, where no one can take it away from him. That’s why he—months ago, when he most thought Michael was slipping through his hands, he gave him the console piece he found so he could go if he needed to. And now Michael tries to hand another piece back to him again?

“I can’t,” Alex says again, stuck on repeat.

“Hey, hey,” Michael fumbles for Alex’s other hand, and Alex lets him catch it, because with Michael holding him in place he doesn’t feel as cold. “It’s not what you think. I’m not asking you to keep me here, or anywhere, just.”

He swallows. He’s beautiful, in this light most of all. The most beautiful thing Alex has ever seen. Shining in every way, from the golden brushstrokes of his hair to the heart of him, who knew that Alex must never have had much of a holiday and decided to give him one.

Alex wants to kiss him. Wants to swallow whatever words Michael is going to say next and end the conversation there.

“Look.” Michael squeezes his hands. “When my mom—when she died. And after. Everything I worked for, everything I built the console for and devoted my life to, I thought it was over. Useless. But…you told me you were my family. And I know it took me too long to believe it, but I do now.

“I built the console because I was searching for my family. And now that it’s right in front of me, I want you to have a piece of it. Want us to have a piece of it.”

Alex searches Michael’s face, every earnest, open inch, until he can’t stand it anymore, until he drops Michael’s hands in favor of cradling his face, pulling him in, and taking his mouth in a slow, deep, careful kiss, tasting coffee on his tongue, drowning in the coming home of him, of his mouth on Alex’s, the rightness of having him in his arms. Michael responds with enthusiasm, stroking his back with his broad hands, making eager little noises into the kiss, going along with it until Alex pulls away to look at him again.

“You’re unbelievable,” Alex breathes.

“Thought it was the season for believing,” Michael replies, a little smile returning to his face.

“That’s what they tell me,” Alex says, and kisses him again.

--

Michael stays the night, wrapped up in Alex’s blankets, wrapped up in every inch of space Alex has ever thought was empty or cold. He doesn’t even need to set the heater that night, kept plenty warm by Michael’s body all along his back, holding him so close.

They wake up slow in the morning, but Alex earliest, because…

Well, even after everything Michael has done this month and everything he said the previous day, Alex is nervous about Michael’s Christmas present. He needs those extra minutes, watching him sleep peacefully, to steel himself.

But when he watches Michael wake up, sees how the first thing he does is look for Alex so he can smile at him, he isn’t so worried anymore.

They bring the blankets out into the sitting room, bundling up under the tree. Buffy leaves her bed to lie beside them instead, on top of the blankets, effectively pinning them in place, so Michael has to use his powers to get the wood and kindling set and strike a match and get a fire going in the fireplace.

The light flickers like something living off the console shard hanging from one of the uppermost branches. Heart in his throat, Alex pulls the envelope—the same one that held the ornament he got on December 1st—out of his pocket.

“I have something for you, too.”

Michael takes the envelope, eyes locked on Alex’s like he’s waiting for permission to open it. When Alex nods, he slips the tape open carefully, almost reverently. Like Alex, he’s never really gotten a gift before. Not one he thought meant anything. Not one he thought could stay.

He shakes the envelope, and a key falls into his hand.

“It’s to the front door,” Alex says to fill the silence.

Michael’s fist clamps around it with a familiar desperation, like someone might come out of nowhere to snatch it away. He blinks glossy eyes, wet lashes up at Alex, his mouth open, closed, throat bobbing as he swallows. Alex reaches out to stroke his closed fist.

“You’re my family. You’re my home. I don’t ever want to shut you out; I want you to be here. With me. Together. And I think you want that too.”

“Alex,” Michael chokes, and then he’s in Alex’s arms, wrapped around him in a hug.

He stays like that for most of the day, handsy and gentle, reaching out to touch him whenever they’re separated even for a moment. The next day passes much the same—then the next they both have to go back to work, live lives outside of their little holiday bubble.

Alex gets home first. He takes the dog out, gets dinner out of the freezer. Then about an hour later, he hears a car outside, footsteps on the stairs, then, after a minute’s pause, a key slots into the lock.

And Alex knows.

[xiolaperry]

The Piano - Chapter 13

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated… (Rumbelling of the 1993 film “The Piano”)

Rating: E for smut, dark subject matter and violence.

Also available on AO3

-

Two days earlier...

Needle and thread in hand, Gold settled himself on the porch to wait for Belle. He sat outside, wanting to see her the moment she appeared. He wore his best waistcoat, shirt, and trousers. No cravat. There was no need to look overdone.

He sewed the buttons Belle ripped off with passion yesterday. She'd been glorious and fierce, and he hoped the buttons he reattached would be popped off again. He'd suspected there was a passionate nature underneath her self-containment. Bringing that out was a highlight of his life and a privilege.

The bright sun shone overhead when he finished his mending. Gold got out his knife and a piece of wood. A rough form appeared beneath his patient hands. A new cat for Tilly. He'd make her a whole cat family. Perhaps Belle would bring Tilly with her today. As much as a repeat of the previous day's activities would be perfect, seeing Tilly again would be enjoyable as well. She was intelligent and spirited like her mother.

He must learn to sign as soon as possible. He learned the language of the Maori, he could learn this. There was much to discuss and there was the problem of what to do about Gaston. But he wasn’t concerned. If there was anything he was good at, it was dealing. When two people want something the other has, a deal could always be struck.

As the sun tracked its way across the sky, disquieting thoughts set in. Where was she? Maybe Gaston had worked at home today. The light faded, and with it, his earlier joy was replaced with despair.

Darkness came. Gold contemplated the indifferent stars above and felt very small. Those stars had seen many things. They'd seen the dark deeds and deals he used to amass his fortune in Scotland. He'd been ruthless. They saw him find a measure of peace here in verdant New Zealand among the forthright natives. The bargaining skills he’d gained he used for their benefit.

But he hadn't gone soft. No, old habits die hard, and he did not make friends with his fellow settlers. He wheeled and dealed, always in his favor, and to the detriment of the unwary. And now here he stood, gazing up at the night sky, alone.

He woke up the next morning to Granny poking him with her crossbow. “Are you still drunk, Gold?”

“You're not going to shoot me, are you? No, I'm painfully sober.” He stretched, stiff from sleeping in the chair. Every joint ached.

“Then why are you sleeping outside?”

“Because I didn't want to sleep in my bed, obviously.”

“Something wrong with it?”

“No.” It would have broken him to lie in it and catch a whiff of her fragrance.

Granny peered at him over her spectacles and frowned at the sadness etched in the lines of his face.

“Let's go inside, and I'll make you breakfast. You'll never guess what Hira told me about Nihe.”

“You just want to eat my food,” he grumbled. Granny's gossip always made an adequate distraction. A fresh day brightened his outlook, and a tiny ember of hope still burned. She might come today. - - -

The stars came out again, and still she had not returned. His hope transformed into grim acceptance. He should have known. No one could ever love him. Especially not a vibrant young woman with her entire future ahead of her.

Now, with a grief so profound he could neither sleep nor eat, he knew he had to leave. She had moved on. He must do likewise.

Granny had no need to poke him when she checked on him the next morning. If he'd slept the night before, he wasn't aware of it.

“Oh, Gold.” She sighed. One look at his face told her no amount of gossip would help. “I'll make you something to eat.”

“Nothing for me, thank you. Please make something for yourself.” Granny squeezed his arm as she passed him. “On second thought, could you make me some tea, please?”

“I'll get it started right away.”

His tea had cooled enough to drink when Cora's small group arrived.

“Hello, Mr. Gold. So nice to see you on this fine day.”

Gold felt sorry for Reverend Hopper. He was a kind man, he cared and tried to “shepherd his flock.” But he was firmly under Cora's thumb. He doubted she allowed him to give a sermon without her approval of the topic. What the Reverend needed was a strong wife, to balance out his gentleness with some backbone. That would be the only way for him to escape being Cora's puppet.

Cora's haughty voice cut into his musings. “Aren't you going to greet us, Mr. Gold? Or has living among the savages caused you to forget all your manners?”

Gold put aside his tea and leveraged himself up with his cane. He made a courtly bow, extending his arm with a flourish. “Good morning, Reverend Hopper, Regina. You'll notice I don't include you in my greeting, Cora, as any morning with you in it could never be good.”

Reverend Hopper tried to salvage the visit, which was not going the way he hoped. “Mr. Gold, we are here at my suggestion. I want to spread Christmas cheer and greetings to everyone, and that includes you. Might we please come in?”

Hopper was making a valiant effort, he had to give him that. On any other day, he might have invited them in and played dutiful host. But this was not any other day.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Reverend. But Cora can take her bloody Christmas cheer elsewhere.”

Granny came out when she heard him raise his voice. “I see you have a visitor here already,” sneered Cora.

“Yes, I do. And I have much to accomplish today, so I'll bid you haere rā.”

“Come, Regina. I won't spend another second in this miserable man's rude presence.”

“Actually, a moment please, Regina. I'm leaving, and this will probably be the last time I see you. You have spirit, and there is good in you. Get as far away from your mother as possible and give that goodness room to grow. You'll be much better off.” He hoped she'd take his advice. It was the only way she'd find any happiness.

Regina removed a package from her basket and handed it to Reverend Hopper. He approached and placed it on the step.

“I'm sorry to hear you're leaving us. The Maori will miss your help. I wish you safe travels.”

“Thank you, Reverend. I meant no offense to you, it has been a difficult couple of days. But you're another who would do well to rid himself of that viper. Goodbye.”

Granny picked up the package to spare him the step down, knowing his leg must ache. They turned their backs on the trio and entered the house.

“Keep whatever that is. Knowing Cora, it’s probably poisoned.” He rubbed his fingers, uncomfortable with what he was about to ask. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Can you make sure the cat is taken care of?”

“The cat? The little black one that comes around?”

“Yes. After I'm gone, see if Gaston will take it for Tilly. If he thinks it is his idea, he might let her have it. But if he doesn't, would you look after it?

“Yes, I can do that. You're really leaving?”

“Yes, I am. And thank you.”

“I'm sure you have a lot to do, so I'll go. But don't leave without saying goodbye.”

“I won't.”

Exhausted, Gold sat on the porch again. Thankfully Granny had asked no questions about the cat. He was too tired to explain.

A few minutes later Ebony herself appeared, weaving through the plants on dainty feet. She jumped into his lap and settled there, purring.

Gold scratched her head and ears. Her golden eyes closed to contented slits. He remembered the first time he saw her, a scrawny little thing, just skin and bones. The smell of his dinner cooking had drawn her, and she'd watched him with bleary eyes, hopeful for something to eat.

Hunger was a suffering Gold understood all too well, and he couldn't bear to let anything starve, not even a cat. He'd tossed it scraps of meat and after that, the cat was a regular visitor.

He'd found satisfaction in watching the cat fill out, her dull fur becoming glossy with health, her ribs no longer visible. But he never named her. No, naming was not for the likes of him. Then Tilly came along, and now she was Ebony.

Lost in his memories, his cat warm in his lap, he dozed.

He spent the next morning packing the few belongings he wished to keep into the saddlebags. The teacup and book were wrapped with care, the only two things he truly cherished. Gold saddled his horse. The Maori village would be his first stop. He would gift his land to them; it was theirs to begin with. And he wanted to say goodbye.

Granny was leaving with her crossbow, ready to hunt when he arrived. She surprised him with a traditional Maori greeting, the hongi. As she pressed her nose to his, she said, “I'll miss you, Gold. You've been a good friend to me.”

“And you to me. Haere rā.”

“Let's not drag this out. I wish you well Gold. Goodbye.”

He saw Kamira on his way to the village elders.

“Gold! Just the person I was hoping to run into,” said Kamira, speaking to him in his native tongue. “I have something to trade.”

“I'm not making deals today.”

Kamira pulled the gleaming ivory piano key from his waistband. Gold lunged for it.

“Give me that.”

“I found it. What will you offer me for it?” He knew Gold valued the piano the white woman had brought and thought he might make a good trade for this piece of it.

“Where did you find it?” His fingers tightened on the reins to keep himself from grabbing for it again.

“There's something written on the side, but I can't read English.” He pondered for a moment. “I'll trade you this for your knife.” Kamira had long admired it and Gold never showed any willingness to part with it.

“Deal.” Gold dismounted and opened his saddlebag. The knife, really more of a dagger, was ornate, a work of art. He pulled it from its sheath and it gleamed in the sun. They traded.

The words were difficult to decipher. They were written in flowing script instead of plain print. He concentrated. His eyes narrowed as he sounded out the words, his heart thudding in his chest. These might be the most important words he'd ever read.

“Dear … Gold … You … Have … My … Heart. Belle French.”

Tilting his head back, he laughed with joy. Hope rushed back. In his giddy relief, he did not think to chase down Kamira and ask how the key had come into his possession. Belle loved him.

He'd be patient and go home. No matter how long it took, he'd wait for her. She'd sent him a piece of her treasured piano that was her voice. No one had ever given him anything so precious.

The rain that fell on him as he rode did not dampen his spirits. He repeated the message to himself over and over, savoring the sound of the words, his heart so full of happiness he thought it might burst. “Dear Gold, you have my heart. Belle French.” He was still smiling when he reached his home.

Granny rushed out.

“Gold! I heard the girl, Tilly, screaming, and I came running. She has blood splattered on her. I took her inside the house. Get in here, quickly!”

[a-trying-writer]

[[ The story needs it own post too. ]]

The price of eating a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich at the bodega may have eaten Jay's wallet more than she did, but it was always worth it. Especially today, since the streets are clogged, and the amount of packages she will have to deliver have grown compared to last week. At least the paycheck makes up for it.

Once she finished up her breakfast with a cup of orange juice, she gave Joshua – the store owner – a toothy grin. “Thanks, chef! I'll see you tomorrow!” she said, before securing her full face helmet on.

He gave her a firm nod before seeing her roller skate out of the store with a large bag strapped around her shoulder. That girl was going to get herself hurt again, but it never stops her from doing what she needs to do, no matter how many people beg her.

Skating from one road to another, between the honking cars with people screaming expletives out their window, Jay turned her bracelet on to see a map flash on her visor. Blinking red dots appeared on selected points of interest, along with lines on where the best shortcuts are from her personal experience. With a press of a button, the map revealed the address of her first stop: an apartment.

A few familiar faces greeted her as they watched her slip between narrow alleys, and as she passed by a man by jumping over a fence with the help of a ramp, he clicked on the stopwatch in his hand. He checked the time with a smirk, before pocketing the watch. “She finally slowed down for once,” he muttered to himself as he climbed into his truck.

Once she arrived at her destination, Jay lifted up her visor to see a middle aged woman sitting on the front porch. “Hey, Miyu,” she greeted her as she pulled out a tablet from her bag.

“Good to see you again, Jay,” she said as she picked up the stylus and signed her full name. “I see your bag is a little bit more stuffed than usual.”

Jay chuckled as she confirmed the delivery, and took out a box to give to Miyu. “It's no big deal,” she replied with a shrug. “Anyway, hope you and your kid are doing good.”

The woman gave her a warm smile. “We are, but Aya misses you a lot, child. You should come by for dinner sometime.”

“Ah, free food does sound tempting... and it's always fun to play with Aya. How about this Friday?”

“Very well, I'll give you a call before then, all right?”

Jay nodded her head with a smile in her eyes then closed her visor. “Okay. See you, Miyu.” She lifted her gaze to spot a young child peeking through a window and waved. The girl smiled as she returned the wave and watched her skate away.

It was not often that Jay stopped by the Okamura family, especially during deliveries, but they are one of the several people she feels comfortable talking to during her job. On her way to the next destination, she marked the day she will visit them before letting the image flicker out behind her visor.

The sun was almost over the horizon by the time Jay delivered her second to last package. She lifted up her helmet to take in the fresh air while gazing up at the orange tinted sky. It was difficult to see the sun at this time of day due to the large buildings around her, so she could only imagine how beautiful it must look.

Jay had lived in this city since her mother wanted to start a new life after the divorce with her father. It was difficult to adjust to the changes during her childhood, and she could never remember how the sun looked as it rose and fell. It wasn't until she turned thirteen that she had accepted it.

Things were difficult as the years went by. School became overwhelming for Jay, to the point that she dropped out at sixteen, and decided to study at home instead. While she had got her diploma, she didn't seek out a job until she was twenty-five, because her mother fell ill.

Her father wanted to get in touch with them, but her mother did not want anything to do with him. Why, Jay never knew. When she finally passed away, all contact outside the city was cut off, and Jay had to take care of herself with some of the inheritance that her mother passed down on to her.

Knowing that it was only going to be temporary, Jay searched for jobs to keep food on her table. It took several attempts, but she finally got one with the city's delivery service. Since then, her life has become stable.

Plus, she had a fun hobby to go along with it – roller skating.

Realizing she was smiling to herself, Jay slipped her helmet back on to deliver the last package for today. Her mother is probably proud of her, she thought.

The last stop made Jay question her GPS multiple times, but no matter what she did, it led her to a run down building sitting between apartments that are very much intact and livable. Well, there was no point in questioning it anymore. She carefully climbed up the stairs and pressed the single working button on the panel built into the side.

There was no response, but she did it again, this time yelling, “Pelican Packages delivery! Is there a Miss...” She paused to reread the name then tried to say it as slowly as possible, “Er-ee-na... Flo-reah?”

Silence.

“It's Doctor Irina Florea,” the person answered. “Please, leave the package at the door.”

A slight frowned formed on Jay's face. “You have to sign for it, Doctor,” she replied while mocking the person's title.

Another minute of silence.

“Fine,” they groaned. “I'll be there in a moment.”

Jay released the button with a huff. It's only natural to expect rude people in this line of work, but that doesn't mean she can't complain to her boss about it. Perhaps this person will be black listed, or assigned to some other delivery person, as much as she didn't want others to suffer the same way she is.

It took a moment for the person to approach the door and open it to reveal a haggard woman with red hair tied in a messy bun. She was dressed in a button up shirt and gray slacks and bunny slippers. Jay wasn't one to judge a person by their appearance, but this woman's attire just screams “workaholic”. She almost pitied her.

Like before, Jay gave the doctor a tablet to sign her signature with a brief hum.

“Is everything okay?” Jay asked.

“Hm?” She blinked at her a few times, before she rolled her head around with a yawn. “Your tablet is quite outdated... Is this really what your job assigned you with? A tacky tablet?”

Jay sucked in a deep breath as she tucked the tablet away. “I can't beg my boss to update our devices – that is up to the CEO of the company.”

There was a brief sparkle in the woman's eyes, until she blinked it away with a subtle disapproving look. “Can't be helped, I suppose.” She then stretched out her arms towards Jay. “Package, please.”

Jay took out a large, rectangular shaped box from her now empty bag to pass it towards her. There was a brief moment when Jay thought she felt something crawl on her skin, but when she pulled her arm back, whatever it was either fell off, or was just her imagination.

The doctor looked at her with a raised brow, but Jay quickly dismissed it with a shake of her head. “Enjoy your evening, Doctor,” she said, then turned away.

Irina only hummed in response before she shut the door behind her. That woman was quite short, the doctor thought as she made her way back to her room. Monitors and computers decorated it from the floor, to the walls, and even the ceiling. She maneuvered over the cables to reach one of her desktops and place the package on the table.

When she reached out for her scissors, only to realize that it was missing from her table, and let out a long, weary sigh. “Power on, Joy!” she yelled.

There was no response.

“Joy?” she repeated as she looked up at a sphere installed in the wall. “Hey, wake up!”

A bright blue light lit up from the sphere and turned towards Irina. “Pardon, Dr. Florea, I have just noticed an error in my system,” it replied.

“Show me the error!”

A screen flickered before Irina, showing Joy's entire body, from its shell to its cables within. Everything seemed to be in one piece, except for one part that was supposed to be installed just yesterday. The doctor huffed with a shake of her head. “I thought it was something far worse than that, Joy. I'll make you another one.”

“Very well, Doctor,” the drone spoke, before falling quiet.

On her way home, Jay stopped by the bodega again to pick up an order from Joshua for herself. A delicious toasted sandwich with turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and vinegar. She took off her roller skates to climb the stairs in her bare feet, and opened the door with a soft tired sigh.

After placing her bag aside in the living room, Jay stripped off her clothing to shower and put on a set of pajamas. She turned on the television to stream a movie, and report her work for today to her boss.

When she saw Irina's name on the list, she wondered if she should share her experience. Perhaps the woman was working too hard, which is why she acted the way she did. It was okay for the workers to share information about the clients so they could be safe, but Jay wanted to give this woman the benefit of doubt, and maybe keep her name clean for the time being.

So she put a special report under Irina's name. “I will be glad to take any packages for her.”

Once she pressed send, her work was actually done. All she has to do now, is rest and eat her sandwich while watching a B list horror movie.

She didn't notice the small sphere climbing out of her bag, and made its way up to the top of her couch to watch it alongside her.

[bookandcranny]

Stone Heart Gambit

 Part 1 - Chapter 3

Soso wakes up in her bed, and for one blissful moment it’s as though all of it were only a dream brought on by too much chocolate before bed. Sunlight is shining through her window and, other than a dry mouth and a mildly upset stomach, she feels refreshed and content. Today has the makings of a perfect lazy day, she decides. She sits up, stretches, relishing the feeling of life coming back into her stiff muscles, opens her eyes, and squeaks.

The living gargoyle is staring at her from the foot of her bed. He’s eating a candy bar, pausing to pick flecks of caramel out of a rather impressive set of pointed teeth, framed on either side by a pair of tusks. Next to him on the floor is an empty bread bag, empty milk carton, two boxes of cereal- yes, empty- and a jar of peanut butter that has, as of yet, been spared from the rampage.

“You ate all my food,” Soso comments dumbly. All things considered, it shouldn’t be the biggest issue, but that milk was supposed to be communal and her housemates are going to kill her.

The beast bows his head. “I’ll replace it.” Before she can question just how he plans to do that, he hands her the peanut butter like a peace offering and— what the hell, she takes it and starts eating with her fingers. It calms her down, marginally.

“You were a statue,” she says with, if she does say so herself, remarkable evenness.

“I was. Rather, I was cursed into a prison of stone.”

“A curse, okay, sure. And now you’re… uncursed?”

He nods.

“But you still look like…” She coughs awkwardly. “I mean, you know, you don’t look human.”

“That’s because I’m not,” he explains. “I am Adamantius the unbreakable, son of man.”

“That’s a hell of a name.”

“I am the fire that burns in the west,” he says, as if that explains everything. “What may I call you?”

“I’m… Soso,” she replies. “Soso Willoughby. I don’t have any fancy titles, sorry.”

“Lady Willoughby,” he says, and his eyes sparkle. “I owe you a great debt.” He drops his head so low his horns brush the floor.

“Hey, I’m not mad about the food, don’t worry about it. You must’ve been hungry.”

“I was. I have been. For countless years I’ve been imprisoned, waiting until the fated night you would free me from my endless purgatory.”

“I did what?” she gawks. “No, you’ve got me confused with someone else. I didn’t free anyone from anything.”

He sits up and presents her with a slightly squished snickers bar. “A single selfless gift,” he says, sounding overcome. “Even when the world forgot about me, even after the stories of my triumphs were lost to time, you still came and spoke to me with such kindness. Truly I can never repay you, but I will stay by your side and serve you faithfully ‘til the end of my days in gratitude.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” she chokes. “I didn’t- I didn’t do anything! And you can’t… how am I supposed to explain you to my roommates? How am I supposed to-“ A thought occurs to her. “Oh god, how am I supposd to explain to Mr Surehouser that I stole his gargoyle? We need to get you back to the library before anyone notices you’re missing.”

The reverence falls from his face, replaced by a baring of teeth. “I will not go back there.”

Soso puts up her hands. “Okay, okay. Let’s… put a pin in that discussion. I need to think.”

“I apologize,” Adamantius rasps. “I didn’t mean to frighten you again. I swear to you, I will not cause you any harm. But I do not wish to return there, ever.”

“Well, what do you wish- want?” She leans tentatively closer, studying him. He’s less frightening in the light of day, but not by much. The color of skin still makes him appear as if made of stone, except now she can see his chest rise and fall with his breathing. A thin crack near the junction of one of his horns glows a faint red, the same flame-light that flickers behind his eyes, an inferno contained in a shell of granite.

“I want only to serve you, and to bring to account those who have wronged us.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

A flicker of something almost devious enters his expression. He gestures towards the bedroom window. Soso gets up to have a look. She pales.

Outside, the town is in chaos. Windows are smashed in, cars are tipped over, heavy claws marks carve a path down the entire street. It looks like the aftermath of a horror movie. A young man wearing a rubber mask is cowering in a tree on Summer Street as police and concerned neighbors try to coax him down.

“I thought it was just a really good costume,” another boy says, shaking like a lead as he gives his statement to a local news reporter.

Soso stands on the porch barefoot in yesterday’s clothes and tries not to panic. Adamantius comes up behind her in the doorway and she shoves him back inside. Remembering she’s not alone in the house, she keeps shoving until they’re standing in the narrow fenced-in area behind the back of the house, well out of sight.

“What did you do?” she demands.

“I thought the fates of the enemy should be left to your discretion, but I wanted to ensure they got the message.”

“Yeah, I think they got it!” She puts her head in her hands. “Dear god, you didn’t kill anybody, did you?”

“As I said, I was awaiting your orders.”

“Okay, my orders are ‘don’t kill anybody’.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Not ever?”

“Not ever! No killing, Ada- Adam- Why is your name so complicated!” she asks in frustration. “Don’t you have nickname or something I can call you?”

He lowers his head, looking pensive. After a moment he says, “There was someone once very close to me called me ‘Adami’.”

This information mellows Soso’s temper somewhat. Despite his appearance and somewhat murderous tendencies, there had been someone who cared for him, and whom it seemed he cared for in return, and now if his story was to be believed, crazy as it all sounded, they are likely long gone. Soso tries to imagine being imprisoned like he was, asleep and awake at once in a frozen form while the days, months, years went by. It sounds terrible.

“How long exactly were you… doing time?”

“I couldn’t say. After the first few decades or so time begins to lose its meaning. I didn’t so much feel the passage of time, only watched the rising and falling of the sun, the turning of the seasons. For much of that time, I wished only for vengeance, then for death, and then I wished for nothing at all. There didn’t seem a point. I had lost all hope of rescue long ago.” His gaze falls on her again. “Then you came. You spoke to me, and reminded me that I was still alive.”

Soso feels her face heat. How was she supposed to tell him that she’d only started talking to him because she thought he was an inanimate object?

“Adami,” she says gently. “We need to go back there. I need to figure out what happened, and the only other person I can think of who might know something is the librarian. I can’t- I don’t have enough room to hide you here without someone finding out, and once they do… I don’t know, they’ll probably want to put you in prison or dissect you for science or something!”

She reaches up and places her hands on his shoulders, privately marveling at the sheer size of him. She has to stand on her toes.

“I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you, but you need to trust me.”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. “I will follow where you lead.”

Soso exhales an anxious breath and releases him. “I’ll need my bike.”

 --

 Surehouser doesn’t wake up in his bed, and rather than the morning light he is woken by a persistent thumping sound. At first, he thinks it’s simply the pounding in his own head. He’s had a bottle of dandelion wine- a gift from some cousin or other- stowed away since the equinox, saved for the express purpose of drowning out the Halloween festivities with his own.

In the time it takes him to recognize the knocking for what it is, he’s become aware of three things. One: he is wildly hung over. Two: today is the first of the month. Three: following that logic, he is well overdue to submit his annual report, which was due at the first of last month. He should get to it, he supposes, adjusting his glamour to better disguise the air of malaise he carries with him. Then again he doubts anyone is going to come breaking his door down about it. If not for the occasional paperwork and the letters and packages from his relations he’d think the whole of faerie society had long forgotten about him. It’s not as if anything happens here anyway.

He trudges to the front door of the library, wondering who could be so desperate to get his attention, and finds standing there the young lady who’s been dropping by the past couple weeks, accompanied by an eight foot abomination.

“So,” says the girl. “Don’t freak out.”

Surehouser runs to his desk and retrieves the enchanted blade he keeps below the stationary drawer. He’s not as spry as he used to be though and the monster has him pinned to the cherry wood before he can so much as unsheathe it. It gnashes its teeth and twists his arm until he’s forced to drop the weapon with a cry. Without any other option, he drops the human farce and the light it forces outward stuns the creature just long enough for him to slip from its grasp. From there, escaping would be easy, just take the form of a jackrabbit or a will o’ wisp and be gone. He almost does just that, but it seems somewhere along the years he’s picked up a conscience. Damn it.

“Soso, get back, I’ll hold it off.” He places himself between her and it, forming a barrier. Between the throbbing headache and the fear he hardly notices her grabbing onto his arm.

“Hold on a second, both of you stop it!”

Adamantius readies to charge and Soso steps between them.

“I said STOP!”

It stops. “As per your instructions,” it growls, startling Surehouser almost more than the attack itself. “I will not kill him.”

“I don’t want you to do anything to him, understand?”

The creature- he looks torn. “Not even-“

“No, whatever it is, no!” she says, flustered. She chides the rampaging goliath like one would a misbehaving dog. It’s honestly impressive. “Mr Surehouser’s a friend.”

Another snarl tears from him. “He’s a faerie.”

It takes a moment to sink in, but once she realizes he knows there’s no way to deny it. Soso steps back and for the first time really takes him in, the truth of him. Under his human disguise, the librarian is summer court through and through; his body all mist and golden light. The base human features are still there, but unlike some of his more passable fellows, one look at him without the aid of a glamour is enough to know he’s not of their world. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he veils himself with the familiar mask of the old unassuming librarian. It’s a magic specifically designed to make him easy to overlook, though the exact details of his appearance still depend largely on the viewer’s perception. It’s why he does his best to stay away from crowds. Too many conflicting accounts of the same man create a very real risk of his cover being blown.

It’s been a long time since he willingly dropped the act around another person, even among his own kind, however infrequently he sees them. Certainly he hadn’t planned to destroy his entire carefully-crafted persona when he woke up seven minutes ago. Yet here they were.

“That’s, wow,” the girl says.

He forces a chuckle. “Not the worst reaction I could’ve gotten, I suppose.”

“Yeah, well, I’m getting to a point where being shocked at every new thing is just taking up too much energy.”

Her eyes are winged and weary. Surehouser looks from her to Adamantius, an ancient warrior whom last he saw was petrified on his front lawn, a being even older than his great-grandfather, and significantly more sapient than he’d been led to believe from the wartime tales. He casts one last, longing look at his dagger laying on the floor and declares,

“It seems that we have a lot to talk about and frankly I don’t want to have this conversation standing up.”

He takes them out of the main library to a sitting area. There are two arm chairs and a small sofa loosely fitted into a circle around a low table in front of a fireplace, now dormant. Soso flops gratefully into the nearest chair. Adamantius isn’t so eager.

“I don’t like faeries,” he says. “And I don’t like your rings.”

“It’s a semi-circle if anything.” He sits. The monster stays standing, hovering at Soso’s side, tense and wary.

“So,” Surehouser begins after a moment. “You’ve, er, woken Adamantius.”

She nods slowly. “If it counts for anything, I didn’t exactly mean to.”

“It’s alright, Soso. I understand many humans in your age group go through an arcane phase, performing your little rituals and whatnot. Although how you stumbled upon something powerful enough to undo a curse like that is far beyond me.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know anything about magic or curses or whatever! It was an accident.”

He looks into her eyes; she seems earnest, though it can be hard to tell with humans.

“I gave him a snickers,” she says. “Adamantius says it was a gesture of pure kindness that broke the curse, or something.”

She looks to him for confirmation. He doesn’t take his eyes off the faerie, but nods his confirmation. She goes on to tell the full story, punctuated with various exaggerated hand motions.

“-And you don’t seem that surprised by all this,” she notes as it comes to a close. Or rather, catches up with the present. “And also, you’re a faerie? Is Surehouser even your name?”

“You could say so. It’s a name, and it’s mine.”

She makes a face. “Right. So like, what now?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Now, I need a drink.” He stands up and, obliged by the laws of hospitality, adds, “Do you want anything?”

“Oh, I don’t really drink. Also, it’s like 2:30.” When it becomes clear that that is not the deterrent she thinks it is, she turns to the creature. “What about you?”

“If you’re not having anything, neither will I.”

She purses her lips. “Actually, Mr Surehouser, if I could bug you for some water or something to eat… all I’ve really had today is, like, half a jar of peanut butter, and this guy was a rock for like a thousand years I guess so he’s always hungry.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Though food is not his indulgence of choice, he’s pretty sure he remembers where the kitchen is supposed to be. The fruit there doesn’t go rotten and the water he runs into a pitcher is cold and clean. For himself, two painkillers. As much as he’d rather not, he’s starting to think this is indeed a conversation he should be sober for.

Once he’s made up a tray he returns to the sitting room where the odd pair are exchanging muttered words and serious glances. Soso stands up to help him set everything out but as she reaches for the fruit, her monster stops her.

“For pity’s sake, Adamantius, they won’t harm her. This place is neutral territory. That’s the whole point.”

While he’s distracted she pops a handful of grapes into her mouth. “You two know each other?”

“Not personally,” says Surehouser. “Though at the same time you could say we’ve been neighbors for years.” He chuckles to himself. “For more than a century, now that I think about it. I’m a watcher. Not the first, though maybe the last.” He loses some of his good humor. The reality of the situation is setting in, unbelievable though it is. “It’s been my job to… well to prevent what is happening right now.”

“He is my jailor,” Adamantius clarifies.

“More or less. Soso, do you even know who it is you’ve been sitting so comfortably beside?”

“Does she know who you are?” he snaps in retaliation. “Have you ever taken a moment to explain the depths of your fraudulence, you oversized pixie?”

His eyes narrow. “Name calling isn’t necessary. But you have a point.” He turns to the girl. “I haven’t lied to you, but neither have I been truthful. Look around you. You see an old library, and me, its keeper. Although on the surface that is true, it’s such a small fraction of what it is. It’s only a name, only some books on some shelves.”

“Then what is the truth? The full truth.” She stares at him intently.

“Long ago,” he begins. As a start to a story, it’s as good as any. Soso’s told him her story, now he owes her one in return. “There was a terrible war between humankind and the fae people. You might know them as faeries, the hidden folk, the good neighbors. Again, that’s only the barest sliver of it. The fae consist of all magical beings, united against humanity. Once, our worlds were one, with the faerie lords, whose magic was strongest and purest, ruling over all.”

“While the humans,” Adamantius interjects. “Struggled at the bottom of the food chain. Although they were greater in numbers and more widespread than almost any other species, they were preyed on by the faefolk because of their lack of natural magic. When their science and scholarly learning grew strong enough to threaten even the faeries’ regime, war broke out. In the process, countless human lives and achievements were lost.”

“I would’ve gotten to that,” Surehouser says haughtily. “As I was saying, after years of fighting the humans finally made a breakthrough. Through study and spiritualism their brightest scholars developed a power that was enough to rival fae magic. They called it alchemy, and with it they created a killing machine powerful enough to turn the tide of the war. Adamantius, the man-made monster.

“Though it was magic, albeit humans’ version of magic, that created him, he became the ultimate soldier against the fae forces. Because of this, many came to consider his existence the ultimate insult, a betrayal of our ways.”

The monster in question lunges forward. Soso seizes his arm, nearly falling out of her chair.

“Your ways and your magic have nothing to do with me. I am the son of man.”

Surehouser takes a sip of water, smiling against the rim of his glass. All this drama for a beast who was unable to act without his human’s approval.

“Personally I’m neutral on the subject. War is a terribly ugly thing. The humans’ precious pet soldier did a lot of damage, but so did we. The only reason the humans won the war in the end was because the lords at the time feared their new alchemy. This single creation of theirs had dealt more damage in a few years, a blink of an eye to them, than all their previous efforts combined. If the humans managed to reproduce their experiment… well, the risk was too great.

“The fae forces surrendered and treaty negotiations began. One of the main conditions of the treaty was that each nation’s greatest tools of war be retired and sealed away somewhere on neutral ground, never to be used again. You see where I’m going with this?”

Soso looks offended. “Adami’s alive. A living person isn’t a weapon.”

He shrugs. “When I say tools of war I’m not speaking of just blades and bombs. Lots of things can be a weapon that you wouldn’t expect. Wealth, knowledge, even a bowl of fruit.”

Adamantius picks up an armchair.

“Kidding, kidding! No need to go throwing furniture.” He stands up, hands raised. “You are much more hair-trigger than the stories suggested. Come, I’ll show you what I mean.”

He takes them behind the front desk and pushes aside a shelf of “staff picks”, revealing a hidden doorway that opens onto the basement. Anyone who knew what to look for would be able to pick out a concealment charm easily. Sometimes it paid to do things the old-fashioned way, so to speak.

The entrance is short and narrow and Adamantius struggles to squeeze through for a minute before it becomes clear that it’s wasted effort.

“What a pity,” Surehouser chirps. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me with your human for a while.”

He growls his disapproval, but once again Soso manages to talk him down. “I’ll be fine. I promised, right? Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

The creature doesn’t look entirely at ease with the idea, but he relents. As they descend the steps, he stands stalwart at the doorway, his eyes following them down until they disappear into the darkness completely.

[skz-candy]

finding her again

"Hey, Jisung," Candy said, making him look up from his phone. She was trying on clothes she'd ordered online, and he was the only one in the dorm so he got to witness the first time she put them on.

His breath hitched as she came toward him, a full gown on. He wasn't sure when she'd have a logical reason to wear it, but he never wanted her to take it off. She looked gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, obviously breath-taking.

"Does it look that bad?" Candy frowned, drawing Jisung from his thoughts.

"It looks beautiful. You look beautiful," he said, smiling widely as her cheeks grew pink.

"I'm not sure why I got it, I'll never wear it," Candy shrugged. "I don't even look that beautiful, you know?"

"What do you mean? You absolutely look beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thanks, Jisung," she smiled, lifting the dress slightly as she walked back to her room.

Jisung spun around again in the chair, the studio spinning around him. He couldn't stop looking at the picture. She did look beautiful, just like he'd said almost two years ago. She always looked beautiful. He wanted to tell her in person.

Jisung stopped the chair, quickly Googling the time difference. It was nine in the morning for her. It would take him almost 14 hours to get there. He'd be there after all her obviously extravagant birthday plans, but still on her birthday. He didn't have to debate it.

He was going to L.A.

-

October 3, 2019 - 10:05 pm

Jisung could feel his phone vibrate over and over again in his pocket. He knew he needed to answer it, but his mind was more focused on finding Candy. His mind was always focused on her.

He didn't have security with him, or any of the staff. He didn't even know where she lived. He knew his best shot would be to text her, call her, and pray she would acknowledge the fact he was in her hometown or just acknowledge him in general.

He started walking. He wasn't sure if he was going in the right direction. He pulled up her Instagram and looked for the places she tagged, but came up empty handed. He needed a better plan than wondering the streets after dark and right now he didn't have any. He sucked it up and opened up her contact.

Jisung: Hey! I wanna send you something in the mail! Can you reply with that, please?

Jisung waited for it to deliver, then walked around some more. There wasn't much he could do until she replied except for ignore the boys and walk, so he strolled through the city of Los Angeles. He thought it was beautiful for as big as it was. Lights and people and cars and music and so many things happening at once. He was in awe. He could see the appeal, he could understand why Candy would want to come back here. He stopped outside of a Starbucks after sitting for a while when his phone vibrate.

Candy: uhhh, okay. i'm home so i'll just share my location with you!

Jisung nearly fainted. She would respond for him to send something, but not when Seungmin was begging for forgiveness, when Felix couldn't stop crying, when Changbin was angry she might not comeback, when they all missed her so much. He shook off the shock. His eyes were peeled for a taxi now, and he would be there shortly.

-

His stomach kept flipping the whole drive. Would she answer the door? Was he just going to knock? Did he call her? Text her? Leave a note? He honestly didn't think he would get this far. He leaned forward, pressing his face to the back of the seat in front of him.

"Are you okay back there, kid?" The cab driver glanced at him in the mirror, shooting him a smile. Jisung leaned back and returned it.

"Yes," Jisung lied. He most certainly was not okay. His palms were growing sweaty. His eyes stared at the back of the seat with no focus. He couldn't stop the way his leg bobbed slighty. He was a mess. His mind was racing a million miles a minute. What if she really didn't want to come back? What if there was nothing he could say or -

"Here we are," the man said. "Cash or credit?" Jisung realized the taxi was stopped. He was outside her house. He would, possibly, see her soon.

"Credit," Jisung handed him the card, a card he very seldomly used and he felt his heart rip at the swipe of money going out. When he got the card back and stepped outside, he realized that sixty dollar taxi ride was worth it. Seeing her, even if she was mad, was worth it. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket.

Jisung: Your package is on your front porch. Open the door?

He felt weirdly shy. He had no idea what she would do or say or think, if she would talk to him. He didn't even want to approach the door, but he had already texted her. The nervousness returned as he heard muffled talking behind the door as he approached. He was silent as he saw the door begin to open and the living room come into view. He looked away from the scenery to the person who opened the door, but didn't have much time to proceess anything before he was wrapped in a hug.

"I just- you- what-" Candy mumbled as she held him tightly. His arms almost immediately wrapped around her, pulling her as close as possible.

"Candy, what was it?" Cameron came up, stopping as soon as he saw Jisung and Candy hugging.

"Mom! Dad! Jisung is here!" He yelled, running back in the house. Candy looked up at Jisung, crying slightly.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" Jisung whispered, whiping her tears away. "Don't do that, okay?"

"I'm so happy to see you!" Candy smiled, pressing her face against his chest once more. She pulled away and wiped her own eyes before looking behind her. "Do you wanna go see everyone?"

-

"I saw your post and flew here. That's all," Jisung said for what felt like the millionth time. She rolled over on her bed to look at him, their faces incches apart. "I had to," he mumbled.

"I didn't think any one would come after me," Candy confessed. "A lot of the comments on my posts were saying don't come back. I know you guys texted and called as much as you could, but I still didn't feel wanted. Then you just showed up and everything made sense again." Candy paused, sitting up. Jisung did as well, letting her slide closer to him. "I was with Luna yesterday and she said that no matter what I did, a big part of me was still in Korea. She said she'd move there with me in a heartbeat, that she'd love to get to know you all, that she'd always be a home away from home for me."

"You don't have to come back if you aren't ready," Jisung held her a little tighter.

"I..I'm sorry Jisung," Candy started crying, making him shift more to conceal her. "I'm so sorry, Jisung. So, so, so sorry."

"Shh, shh. You don't need to apologize. I under-"

"You don't. You don't understand," Candy pulled away, taking Jisung's hands into hers. "I ran from you when you were so vulnerable with me. I shouldn't have done that. I should have responded better."

"Don't worry about that, it's been months."

"I know you have thought about it. You thought it was your fault I left, right?" Candy raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, we all thought that."

"Jisung, since when have you ever been as vulnerable with the boys as you've been with me?" Candy dropped his hands to take his face in her hands. "Jisung, you are one of my best friends. My hero, my cuddle buddy, my therapist, my goofy dance partner, my midnight snacker, my rap teacher. I don't ever want to lose you."

"You would never-"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Candy laughed, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry, he mumbled."

"I don't know what this means exactly, but I don't want anyone else to be by my side. I want you, Jisung."

-