#i have a lot of love in my heart for twelve and his cue cards and thirteen not knowing what to say to graham at the end of can you hear me?

[gallifreyvn]

its been so weird rewatching tenth doctor episodes after getting diagnosed with autism earlier this year cos like as a kid, and even later as an adult, i had no idea whatsoever that ten was actually kinda rude, apparently. like he can be perceived as arrogant and he says and does things that are off-putting and his companions often have to give him looks or apologise on his behalf or explain his behaviour to others.

ive seen a few people point stuff like this out more recently as reasons for not liking his character which im fairly certain is the only reason ive noticed it this time round. and im pretty sure this might actually be part of the reason ive always loved him and connected with him so much tho cos apparently i also say the wrong things and come across as arrogant and i had absolutely no idea about that either until very very recently.

there’s a social awkwardness to him that i had no idea i was even connecting with all this time. little ten year old me just thought he was the coolest guy in the world.

[searchingwardrobes]

The Christmas Wish: 1/4

Merry Christmas, @snowbellewells​ ! You have become such a sweet friend to me, so I wanted to gift you with something this holiday season. Since we were talking about Hallmark Christmas movies the other day, I thought the perfect gift would be writing you a Captain Swan version of one! I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful Christmas with your family.

Many thanks to @kmomof4​ for being my beta when I know this week is busy with your family. Thank you so much, my dear friend!

This has four parts and one chapter will be posted each day this week, with the last one posting on Christmas Eve. It is loosely based on a Hallmark movie starring Jessie Schram, funny enough, called The Birthday Wish. This fic is set in 3b, but sticking to canon didn’t work at all with what I wanted to do, so it ended up being canon divergent. I think the only canon part that remains is Zelena. There’s no Rumple, no Neal, no cursed lips, no time travel. Yeah, I know, not much canon left, haha. Let’s just say this is more character driven . . . .

Summary: Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. "I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me?" Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out. The "answer" to her wish had to be some kind of trick, however. After all, it wasn’t as if anything in the vision she received could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook, the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.

Rated G for Hallmark movie levels of fluff and Christmas feels

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @teamhook​ @xhookswenchx​ @bethacaciakay​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @welllpthisishappening​ @optomisticgirl​ @hookedonapirate​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @spartanguard​ @let-it-raines​ @tiganasummertree​ @vvbooklady1256​ @scientificapricot​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @hollyethecurious​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @jrob64​ @wellhellotragic​ @winterbythesea​ @winterbaby89​ @lfh1226-linda​ @carpedzem​ @thesschesthair​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @cutieodonoghue​ @justbecauseyoubelievesomething​ @juliakaze​  @thisonesatellite​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thislassishooked​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @killian-whump​

Chapter One: The Vision

“Mom, come on! It’s already started!”

Emma hadn’t seen her son this excited since they left New York. Henry was standing in the open door of their room at Granny’s, shifting with nervous excitement from one foot to the other. Emma was on her hands and knees with her head halfway under the bed. Where the hell had her other boot gotten to? It couldn’t have just disappeared. Then again, this was Storybrooke . . .

“Everything alright, lass?”

The sound of Hook’s voice made Emma jerk backwards and smack her head against the bed frame. She scowled at the pirate who was now standing at Henry’s side as she sat up on her knees rubbing the lump that was rising on her head.

“Where’d you come from?” she muttered as she rose to her feet. A dust bunny tumbled from her messy hair, tickling her nose and making her sneeze.

“Sorry,” Hook apologized with a slight smirk that made her think he wasn’t all that sorry.

“I can’t find my damn boot,” Emma snapped at him, almost as if it were his fault.

“Want me to help you look, love?”

“Mo-om,” Henry whined.

“Actually,” Emma replied, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand so she could look at the pair in her doorway - one on the cusp of adolescence and the other looking far more handsome than he had a right to in those ridiculous pirate clothes. Anyone else would look like they were headed to a tacky Halloween party. “Could you take Henry down to the Christmas carnival?”

“I thought we were going together!” Henry exclaimed.

Mom guilt slammed into her at his crestfallen expression. Between figuring out this new curse and trying to stay one step ahead of this wicked witch (Wicked Witch of the West? Seriously?), Emma knew she had neglected time with Henry. It was so different from what he had been used to in the life they had built in New York, and she hated letting him down. Not to mention that at twelve, Henry wouldn’t be wanting to hang out with her for too much longer, and she was missing it.

“I’ll be right down. It’s gotta be around here somewhere.” She really needed to buy an extra pair of boots, but frugal habits born of so many years on the streets didn’t go away easily.

“I’ll guard him with my life if necessary,” Hook swore to her solemnly.

Henry rolled his eyes. “First off, I’m twelve, not two. Second, it’s a Christmas carnival. What’s going to happen? I get hit in the head with a candy cane?”

Hook just arched a brow at her, and she shook her head ruefully. Little did Henry know. Sometimes his lack of memories stabbed her with even more feelings of guilt. She waved him off.

“I know, I know. Just get down there and teach Killian how to overdose on Christmas sugar.”

“Will do,” he told her joyfully as he shot off towards the stairs, Killian hurrying after him.

Emma collapsed onto the bed for a minute once they were gone. She’d told her mom

that having a Christmas carnival on Main Street was a bad idea with the Wicked Witch still out there. On the other hand, she had yanked Henry out of school, dragged him away from his friends and the life he had known, and brought him to this bizarro town. Now he was having to celebrate Christmas here, too. They didn’t have a tree or the Christmas decorations they had bought together last year. They hadn’t made cookies and hot chocolate for their annual viewing of Home Alone. Of course, technically, it was only annual in memories that weren’t real, but that was beside the point. The point was she was now ruining her son’s Christmas too. Ever since he heard about the Christmas Carnival, he’d set aside his Nintendo DS and his cell phone for the longest span of time since they’d arrived here.

Emma got up and resumed her search for that elusive right boot. She finally found it wedged beside the TV, hidden by the window curtains. She yanked both boots on, then turned to glance at her reflection in the mirror. She frowned at her tangled hair and grabbed a brush. Once her golden hair was glistening and smooth, she grabbed her lipstick and reapplied it. It wasn’t until she was touching up her mascara that she scowled at herself in the mirror.

Who exactly are you primping for, Emma?

She refused to answer her own subconscious as she tossed the mascara angrily onto the vanity. It bounced and slid into the sink, but she just left it there and marched out the door.

The Christmas Carnival was literally on her doorstep, filling the street in both directions from Granny’s patio. A choir of children from the elementary school stood on a stage near the post office belting out Christmas carols, led by someone who looked a lot like Mary Poppins (she probably was Mary Poppins, Emma thought with a chuckle). Leroy and some of the other dwarves had gathered around a booth where you were supposed to toss as many bean bags as you could into the mouth of a giant wooden snowman. Merry Men cheered and laughed as they took turns trying to pop balloons in a dart game. There were plenty of other typical carnival games: ring tosses, coin drops, wheel spinners, and one of those “go fish” games where kids tossed a clothes pin at the end of a string over a blanket and one of the nuns from the convent attached a bag of Christmas candy. There were also merchants with booths selling all sorts of handmade Christmas gifts, and food booths offering everything from hot chocolate to corn dogs to cotton candy.

She found Killian and Henry fairly quickly. They had found David at the strong man game. She chuckled to see her father spitting on his hands and rubbing them together before lifting a mallet and slamming it down. A bell went flying up, ringing loudly and impressively as it almost reached the top of the strong man game. With a smirk, her father offered the mallet to Killian. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t look away as Killian took off his coat. He really needed to go without that long coat more often, she liked the figure he cut in those tight leather pants -

“Are you kidding me?”

Emma jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. She turned to see Mary Margaret shaking her head as she watched the men.

“That is just unfair,” she continued. “I know your father is wary of Hook’s feelings towards you, but to challenge him to that game . . . “

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know . . . “

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her mother with a scathing look. “Know what?”

“He, um . . . well, that is, he only . . . “

“Only has one hand?”

“Well yeah.”

Emma arched a brow and gave her mother a smug grin. “I think Killian can handle himself.”

Right on cue, Hook swung the mallet with his good arm, and the bell flew up. It didn’t make it as far as her father’s swing, but it was still damn good. Emma smiled as she watched her father slap Killian on the back.

“Killian is it?” her mother asked pointedly.

Emma turned to take in her mother’s curious stare. She tightened her arms further around herself. “Uh, yeah, that’s his name. It’s the name we use around Henry, so you know . . . “

“Okay,” her mother teased, a smirk of her own teasing her lips. She changed the subject, however, by lifting a plate holding a cupcake into Emma’s line of sight. “Happy Birthday!”

Emma cocked her head. “Birthday?”

Her mother sighed. “I know it was almost two months ago. Yet one more moment I missed. I wanted to make it up to you.”

“It’s okay, really.” Emma took the plate and looked at the cupcake. It was chocolate with white icing and blue sprinkles. “It’s not really Christmas-y. Where did you get it?”

“A cupcakery opened along with the new curse. Felicity’s.”

“Is that her real name?”

“It is.”

Emma snorted loudly. “Cute.”

Mary Margaret grinned. “I know.” She threaded her arm through Emma’s and steered her towards a group of picnic tables set up beneath some fairy lights. Emma let her mother pull her to the table and sat down with the cupcake between them. Mary Margaret pulled something out of her pocket with a proud smile. “Felicity even gave me a candle and some matches!”

“Really?” Emma asked with raised brows as her mother stuck the candle into the cupcake. It was sparkling blue with a star on top.

“Mhm,” her mother said, “I told her it was for you and how I missed your birthday, and she wanted it to be special. The cupcake is special too, she said. It’s her Sugar Plum Fairy cupcake, and she was almost sold out. This was the last one.”

Emma spun the cake around, eyeing it. She had obviously been in town way too long if she was suspicious of an innocuous cupcake. The woman owned a cupcakery, for heaven’s sake! She had to sell the damn things. And what better way to drum up business than to pay extra special attention to Snow White? Emma let out a breath as she told herself to just relax and enjoy the cupcake. The bright pink and glittery decorations may not be her style, but it was chocolate, and you couldn’t go wrong with chocolate in Emma’s opinion.

Her mother lit the candle, her eyes sparkling as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Emma squirmed, never comfortable with such attention, praying no one else heard the song.

“Make a wish!” her mother exclaimed.

Emma bit her bottom lip as she suddenly remembered the last time she had made a wish on a cupcake. She had wished that she didn’t have to be alone on her birthday, and seconds later, Henry had knocked on her door.

So Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me? Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out.

“Hey, where’d you get the cupcake?”

Emma opened her eyes to see Henry standing beside her. Behind him were her dad and Hook. Even as her son eyed her cupcake jealously, he shoved a forkful of funnel cake into his mouth. She chuckled.

“I didn’t buy it at the carnival,” Mary Margaret explained. “I bought it at a bakery specially for your mom.”

“Why?”

Her mother, who had the world’s worst poker face, went slack jawed and stammered as she looked at her daughter. Emma calmly removed the candle, licked the icing off, then started to peel away the wrapper before she answered her son.

“Because I helped her set up her baby registry the other day, and after two hours of agonizing over strollers, high chairs, and onesies, she owed me.”

It was only half a lie. Emma had helped her mom register at Storybrooke’s only baby store. Named, naturally, The Stork’s Nest. And it was also true that the experience had been torturous enough to earn her dozens of cupcakes.

She still wished she didn’t have to lie to her son - even half lies.

*******************************************

When Emma awoke the next morning to blurred surroundings, she wasn’t alarmed at first. It always took her a minute to fully awake and adjust her eyes to the morning light. But when she couldn’t see well enough to even find her phone on the nightstand, worry gripped her. She sat up abruptly in bed, trying to blink the sleep away. She squinted, and still all she could see was a white blur that she assumed was the sun streaming through the window and around it only blurry gray. She groped in the general vicinity of the nightstand, knocking over the lamp. She swore loudly as it crashed to the floor.

“Mom!” Henry shouted as he burst through the door.

Emma turned towards his voice, assuming that the moving brown blur in front of her was her son. “I’m . . . fine,” she lied, not wanting to alarm him. “Just go downstairs and ask Granny’s help to go get your gr - I mean, David.”

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

She pressed her lips together and took a sharp breath in through her nose. “Just go, Henry, okay?”

She heard him grumble something under his breath about how he wasn’t a little kid anymore, but she heard the door to their rooms open and close anyway. While he was gone, she rubbed at her eyes, then opened them again, but still she couldn't’ see a damn thing.

“Swan?” Hook’s alarmed voice cried out as he burst into the room.

“Killian?” She squinted at the big black blur in her doorway that she assumed was the man in question.

“I know you said to get David,” came Henry’s voice as a smaller brown blur joined the larger black one, “but I ran into Killian in the hall, and I know him better, so . . . “

“It’s okay, Henry, just give me and Killian a minute.”

“I want to know what’s going on!”

“I know, kid,” she said, her voice softening, “and I’ll explain in just a minute, I promise.”

Henry made no reply, at least none she could tell. She heard the door to her bedroom shut and sensed Hook drawing closer.

“What is it, love?”

“I can’t see,” she confessed softly, reaching out a hand for him.

“What?”

She could clearly hear the strained concern in his voice. Her hand found his, and she used him as leverage to stand up from the bed. He was closer than she had anticipated, and she awkwardly bumped against his chest.

“I mean, except for a light blur over there, and a dark blur I assume is you, I. Can’t. See.”

Emma thought ironically of those black frames with the clear lenses she had worn for

merely fashion reasons back when she was a teenager. They seemed incredibly stupid now.

“How long has this been going on?” Killian must have bent his head closer to hers because his breath was hot against her cheek.

“How long? I just woke up this way!”

“This must be some kind of sorcery, love. You don’t just lose your sight overnight.”

Do you? Emma wondered. She vaguely remembered some movie she had seen once where a woman woke up suddenly blind. It was probably a Lifetime movie, though, and she wouldn’t call those medically accurate by any stretch of the imagination. Nevertheless, she gripped Hooks arms tighter and shook her head.

“Maybe it’s magic, maybe not. Either way, get my phone, call my Dad, and ask him to drive me to the doctor, okay?”

“That will waste too much time. Maybe I could -”

“You can’t drive, and I don't’ think this warrants a 911 call.”

Did Storybrooke even have 911? She should look into that.

“As you wish,” was all Killian said, his voice solemn. The words took her back to a hot jungle, his lips on hers, and his hand tangled in her hair. She swallowed thickly as she pulled her hands away from him. He reached around her, and then she heard the familiar beeping sounds as he opened up her phone. She was glad she had given him that cell phone crash course the first time he’d watched Henry for her.

“And Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Can you explain this to Henry for me? Without freaking him out?”

“Of course.”

Then he brushed a kiss across her brow and swept from the room, leaving her flustered. He’d done it so swiftly, without hesitation, as if it were something he did everytime he told her goodbye. Maybe it had been unintentional?

Needless to say, it had been a weird morning.

*********************************************

“Is your sight coming back?” her father asked, unable to hide the fear in his voice as he drove through the streets of Storybrooke.

Emma squinted out the window of her dad’s truck. “That really bright blue to my right is the ocean I’m guessing?”

“That’s a no, then.”

A strained silence fell between them, but what could Emma say? She hated to worry him, but there was no denying this was really, really bad.

“You sure we shouldn’t go straight to Regina?”

“Not yet,” Emma told him, “let’s rule out a physical cause first.”

“I don’t know if that’s any better than a spell.”

“Believe me,” she muttered, “I know.”

“Your mom Googled it already -”

“That’s never good.”

“- and people with green eyes are at higher risk for eye cancer and macular degeneration.”

“Not helping, Dad.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “It is good to hear you call me Dad again, though.”

Emma’s eyes blurred even further with her sudden tears. “Sorry I can only seem to say it in crisis situations.”

“Hey, all in good time. When you’re ready.”

He released her hand, and Emma resisted the urge to grab it again. She was so thankful to have him with her. How many times had she fantasized about parents who would take care of her when she was sick? Though she would have preferred something less dramatic than sudden blindness. A cold and some chicken soup, maybe.

“I know I’m not the best judge of this at the moment, but aren’t we going the wrong way?”

“I’m not taking you to Storybrooke General. An optometrist arrived with this second curse, and I think I trust whoever it is with my daughter’s eyes more than I trust a possibly drunk Dr. Frankenstein.”

Emma chuckled at the wry sound of her father’s voice. “I bet mom wishes an obstetrician came with this curse too.”

“You have no idea.”

Her father slowed the truck and made a right turn. He assisted her out of the vehicle, and she slipped her arm through his as he guided her to the door of the clinic. She felt him freeze suddenly beside her once the door swung closed behind them.

“You!” he exclaimed in a suspicious voice. “I know you! What the hell is going on? I thought you were a baker!”

“No,” another voice calmly replied, “that’s my sister Felicity. I’m Avery, the receptionist for Dr. Liv Lachesis, the optometrist. Which I should also explain -”

“Welcome,” a third voice spoke up, “how can I help you today?”

“Triplets?!” David exclaimed.

One of the women - Emma couldn’t tell which one - chuckled lightly. “Yes, triplets. It always throws people.”

“Well,” her father sighed, “I have a twin, so I can relate. We’re here for a bit of an emergency, though. My daughter woke up this morning unable to see.”

“That is an emergency. Emma, why don’t you come with me?”

“How do you know my name?” Emma asked suspiciously as the doctor gently touched her elbow.

“Everyone knows the Savior.”

Dr. Lachesis’ words were gentle and soothing as she guided Emma into the exam room and helped her sit.

“Now just lean back Emma, and try to keep your eyes open. I’m going to put these drops in. It may sting a little, but it shouldn’t hurt. Okay?”

Emma nodded her head. Even though the optometrist had a soothing bedside manner, she still felt her stomach knotting with nerves. Dr. Lachesis gently held Emma’s right eye open, squirted two drops of liquid in, then repeated the procedure with her left eye. Emma blinked, hoping to see more clearly. She panicked when instead of blurry splotches of light and dark, before her eyes was nothing but inky darkness.

“It’s going to be okay,” the doctor soothed, as if reading her thoughts. “Lean forward and look into my phoropter.”

Emma had no idea what that was, but she leaned forward anyway. The doctor guided her face forward, and Emma felt cool metal pressed against the skin around her eyes.

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

Emma heard a click while the doctor adjusted the machine’s settings.

“Look again.”

Dr. Lachesis’ voice was almost hypnotic, and Emma blinked once again. The black nothing before her faded, and she could once again see fuzzy splotches of color. The fuzzy splotches then cleared, and objects took shape before her. She was outside, dressed in a sweater, boots, and all the normal winter outerwear. Snow crunched beneath her feet and the air was crisp and cold against her cheeks. She blinked again, and tilting her head up saw that she was standing in front of a beautiful blue Victorian home with a welcoming porch, and a turret with windows nestled on one side. It reminded Emma of a doll house she had admired in a store window one Christmas as a child.

Emma then realized there were voices and laughter behind her, and she turned to see a man standing in front of the sliding door of a black minivan. He was bending over, buckling a toddler into a car seat. He straightened and turned towards her, and Emma froze in shock.

“Look, Graham, Mama’s got your shoes.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, wondering even more what kind of crazy contraption a phoropter was to make her see what she was seeing right now, but when she opened her eyes the scene hadn’t changed. Captain Hook was buckling a toddler into a minivan. What the hell?

His eyes sparkled with mirth and he was smiling in a way she had yet to see. He gestured with his hook towards her.

“Swan? The shoes?”

She looked down to see that she did indeed have a tiny pair of brown boots dangling from the tips of her fingers. As bizarre as the whole scenario was, she shuffled forward and handed Hook the shoes. He narrowed his eyes and studied her for a beat before turning back to the child before him. He chatted amiably with the child, making him giggle as he slipped the shoes on his feet and tied them deftly with one hand. Emma stared at the little boy of about three, cataloguing his features. He had the same shade of eyes Emma had - a cool, pale green. He had a little dimple in his plump chin, much like her and Snow. His hair was thick and black, curling over ears that pointed in an almost elf-like way. Emma felt her jaw drop as she looked from the child to Killian and back again.

“Mama?” Emma startled when a little girl popped up from behind the little boy. “Mama did Daddy really almost burn down Granny’s when he got you a Christmas tree?”

The little girl looked so much like Emma, it was downright eerie. Except she had bright blue eyes. Eyes that looked really familiar . . . but it couldn’t be!

Killian chuckled as he scratched behind his ear. “Well, in my defense, I was new to the entire concept of electricity.”

Wait a second - did this girl just refer to them - she and Hook - as Mama and Daddy? Then Emma took in Killian for the first time. He was wearing dark skinny jeans and a motorcycle jacket instead of his pirate garb, yet that wasn’t what really surprised her. What surprised her was the charcoal wool beanie on his head. Captain Hook wearing a beanie? Surely this was some sort of hallucination. Emma then glanced down at herself.

“What the hell am I wearing?”

“Wowds, Mama!” the toddler - Graham? - laughed, kicking his little feet.

“Mama, you have to wear the tree shirt to go get the tree,” the little girl added. “It’s ta-dition.”

“That’s tradition, Hope, now buckle up so we can get going,” Killian instructed.

Suddenly, a golden blur rushed past Emma, and she let out a surprised shout as a golden retriever jumped into the van.

“Sorry,” Killian apologized, “the kids begged to bring Nana along. I didn’t think it was a problem since the tree farm is outside.” He paused and tilted his head as he studied her. “Are you okay, love? I can drive if you want. I know your morning sickness still bothers you some.”

Then the strangest thing of all occurred when Killian Jones - Captain Hook himself, put a hand to her belly then brushed a kiss to her lips. It was the kind of quick, familiar kiss a couple shares when they’ve been together a long time. Emma looked down where his hand rested, and sure enough, her belly was swollen beneath her sweater. Her hideous red sweater covered in a garish Christmas tree with pom pom balls for ornaments. She swayed on her feet.

“Emma!” Killian cried in alarm, his arms going tighter around her.

Everything went blurry, again, then dark. Emma blinked her eyes, and suddenly she was back in the optometrist office looking through a metal contraption that must have been the phoropter. She jerked away and leapt up, her gaze darting wildly about the room. Well, at least she could fully see again.

“What kind of crap was that?” she yelled at Dr. Lachesis. “What kind of spell did you put on me?”

“It was my sister who cast the spell. I merely completed it.

“Completion is my area of expertise, sis,” Avery spoke up from the doorway.

“Okay,” the doctor sighed with a roll of her eyes, “I showed you the middle. It’s what you wished for, after all.”

“Emma,” David cried out as he pushed his way into the room, “are you okay? What did they do?”

Emma shook her head, unsure of how to even describe what had happened. Not to mention her father’s reaction if she told him she’d just seen herself knocked up with her third child with Hook of all people.

“Nothing, Dad,” she muttered, “let’s just get out of here.”

After all, it wasn’t as if anything in that vision could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.

[willowaudreykeyes]

Prompt: myths and chaos with Logan with the line “so apparently microwaving this ancient manuscript isn’t a good way to find out its secrets.”

Remus’ Puzzle Temple Of Friendship And Chaos

Warnings: Baby eldritch thing, tentacles, one eye, vague sexual reference that’s from a song

Platonic Logince, brotherly-and-on-good-terms Creativitwins and Intrulogical of whatever relationship interpretation that you want.

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

Roman

“Remind me to thank your brother at dinner tonight.”

“That’s if we make it to dinner. And you all call me extra; he made an entire temple for us to explore within a week!” He spent a lot of energy on it too. I still remember the shaky finger he pointed at me after the second day of working on this Incan-like temple; slurring tiredly about not going into the space between our Kingdoms and ruining the surprise. He also forced me to carry him to his room as he dangerously swayed on his feet. I’ll have to thank him by working just as hard for his and Logan’s adventure after the two of us finish this one.

“I know; yet I’ve yet to thank him for doing so. And I must ask how long it took to make this language.” Taking my first glance at said language, I recognise it immediately as the first language that Remus and I had known. We had known it better than English at one point, until Patton insisted that we make English our main language so that we wouldn’t confuse Thomas. 

“Oh, we’ve always known it. We used to speak it in front of Patton as kids to confuse him and we still use it occasionally whenever we send a letter, or in his case a slab of mysterious leather, between our Kingdoms.”

“So you can translate this?”

“Of course!” I hold the slightly chipped black and red tablet out at arms length, quickly noticing that everything on the tablet makes no sense. No wonder he was so tired after every day in the Imagination; he even made us a puzzle. “It’s encrypted though, so we have to figure out what the cypher is first. And knowing Remus, it could be anything.”

He takes it from my hands and adjusts his glasses for the fiftieth time today before tapping his chin. I doubt Logan realises that he has so many visual tells when he becomes passionate and interested. “He would leave a clue somewhere where we could find it. He’s chaotic, not unfair.”

“Aha!” In a spark of inspiration, I rough up my hair and gain a huff of defeat from the neighbourhood nerd as I do the same to his own. It had dust from the temple in it anyway. “We just have to think like Remus! Now what’s the most logical place to put a cypher for this thing?”

“Where we found it.”

“Okay. Now what’s the opposite of that?”

His eyebrows do that cute thing where they pinch down a bit when he’s confused. I don’t bother hiding my smile as his eyes shift around, taking in invisible words as he tries to find my line of thinking. “I’m… not following. The opposite of where we found it is every room that we didn’t find it in, and we went through forty-three rooms and eight hallways; perhaps half or less of the entire temple judging by the size and spacing between each room.”

“And only twelve not-too-tough traps, which is less then his usual quota…” Probably because of the exhaustion, but I should have figured that out earlier. I’ll up the level of hazards in his next one as a double thank you for his hard work. “Anyway, we must think chaotically if we are to beat the chaotic one!”

With a silent nod, he attempts to fix his hair as I take in our camp and the temple before us. It’s very reminiscent of an Incan temple in design yet is mainly made out of pitch black obsidian; with intricate wall carvings engraved with pure ruby, emerald, moonstone and diamond; and a whole lot of animal and human skulls that are packed tightly into every ceiling. And I must say, adding the creatures from both of our Kingdoms as the wall carvings is a nice touch. 

Except I won’t say it out loud because the majority of them are of naked people, naked cannibals and of naked murders. 

At least our camp has some more class to it! Logan wished for something realistic, but was soon swayed by my enchanted Harry Potter tent that’s magically large enough to have a working bathroom and still look like a ‘regular’ camping tent from the outside. I do like regular camping, but I prefer to have a shower after a tub of Thomas-knows-what is dropped over us and getting into every uncomfortable crevasse. Just thinking about that disgusting concoction makes me shudder.

“... Perhaps our microwave?”

I snap my gaze back to him, beaming at his rather shy sounding remark. He always sounds shy when he says something that deviates from his path of logic. At least he’s opening up a little more. “Perfect! I knew you’d think of something!”

“It was the first usable thing that I saw. Were you daydreaming again?”

“Nope- Using the microwave to solve a cypher sounds like something Remus’ mind would think up. He did mix sardines, lettuce and one of your ties in the blender before drinking it once.” I mumble the last half -I probably shouldn’t out Remus just yet for drinking Logan’s tie a few months ago- and put the tablet in the microwave and set it to three minutes. Three is the magic number after all.

“Did you say something?” 

“Mumbling ideas to myself is all!”

The microwave suddenly glows a bright purple and I manage to drag Logan in close before blocking something from hitting the both of us with my summoned shield. With a pop, crackle, fizz and several loud noises that sound like tearing metal; I risk peeking over it in perfect sync with Logan. The sight of three large tentacles wiggling out of the new holes in the camp's microwave brings out a sigh from me. A very loud sigh. Remus could probably hear it and currently giggling to himself from the comfort of his bedroom.

“It may be best not to touch those. Or the microwave.”

“But the tablet!” Logan pushes by my shield and barely escapes my reach before I am able to pull him away. With a straight posture and a quick slick back of his hair, he opens it and nearly jumps into my arms Scooby-Doo style from the loud pop that occurs. I’m in front of him again within a moment, but the usual feeling of hostility that Remus puts on his dangerous creatures as a warning is lacking. At least this thing won’t try and face-hug me like that faceless chicken that guarded the temple did.

Inside was a brown-black-blue ball of tentacles, with three longer than the others that retract out of the newly-made holes in the microwave. My heart stutters as a singular, goat-like, boysenberry coloured eye opens from one of the many seams in the creature; just to quickly dart it’s vision between the two of us before landing it’s creepy gaze on Logan. “Huh. So apparently, microwaving the ancient manuscript isn’t a good way to find it’s secrets- but a great way to hatch an eldritch abomination.”

“If you’d hand me a blanket, perhaps bringing it with us would be advantageous in future explorations.” Of course he wants to bring the nightmare creature; he always does. I hand him the nearby dish towel instead as I don’t feel like leaving this thing alone with Logan would end nicely.

“As long as you're carrying it.”

“Of course; you’re the one with the sword and shield.” I’m rather sure that that means that he would make me carry the disgusting creature if I wasn’t the one with our only ways of defending ourselves; and I don’t know if I should dramatically put my hand to my chest in horror or just pout.

I go for the pout.

Only for it to be rather rudely ignored as he cradles the little beast in its new home, wrapping it’s longer tentacles around Logan’s hands and attempting to remove his watch for a moment before I manage to grab it before they do. Logan’s too busy holding it in one hand and going through his cue cards to notice though. “And I shall name it as randomly as I can; since Remus seems to name all of his creations.” 

“Why?”

“It’s only polite to follow custom; and the custom for Remus is to name his creatures.” I hate everything about this -plus the tablet is just full on missing or destroyed now too- but Logan seems enraptured by the little thing. I roll my eyes and put on my backpack as Logan already begins walking up the temple steps. We just had lunch, so we have a chance of leaving before dinner, but I highly doubt it.

Despite not being able to see, the creature manages to grab out one of the cue cards from Logan’s hand before letting him snatch it back. With a quick smile after reading it, he pockets them all again before getting a better hold of the thing before it runs away and eats a whole deer or something. “It’s name shall be Anaconda-Do-Not.”

God-fucking-dammit Remus. I frown at the thing as we enter the fire-lit entrance, glad that its eye is hidden under the dish towel. Sheep eyes have always kind of creeped me out; especially on things that aren’t sheep. “You’re not allowed to hang out with Remus, Virgil or Janus anymore if they keep giving you those weirder cue cards.”

“This one’s from Remus. It’s a metaphor about-”

“I KNOW WHAT IT IS!” A light pain follows my facepalm, but I ignore it and march onwards. Hoping to get rid of this thing as quickly as possible. “Let’s just… go shove it into a keyhole or something already.”

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

By the way, I really hate that stupid Anaconda song and so I know that it’d be perfect for Remus. Hopefully the ending is alright because it was the only bit I really had issues with ^^’

Oh and Remus definitely fell in love with the new Eldritch creatures name.

@ladyedwina @5am-the-foxing-hour @sparrowofsong

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for sweetlittlevampire

Happy exchange to @sweetlittlevampire! You have no idea how much pressure I felt when I realized I was tasked with putting together your gift - your art is always so beautiful and detailed! I hope this checks the boxes for you: I aimed at driving home 'non-sexual intimacy' and 'found family', with lots of heavy fluff tones. Enjoy!

A quick note: because I have next to no familiarity with Chinese culture, either modern or ancient, I have set this story in modern North America. This means the wedding planning and cultural references adhere to North American styles.

Read on AO3

*****

The Award for Best Man

It’s an unusual time of day to be this exhausted, even by Lan Wangji’s supposedly early sleep schedule. The sun hasn’t finished climbing the sky yet and Lan Wangji can’t think of a single thing he’d rather be doing with a rare day off than this:

He and Wei Ying are together, lumped in the vertex of their L-shaped couch which sits directly in the morning sun. They have the apartment to themselves today, until this evening, when A-Yuan and Wen-popo will return their rabbits from babysitting. Wei Ying was still convinced that Bichen and Suibian would have been absolutely fine with them gone all yesterday to tour wedding venues; Lan Wangji had insisted they not be lonely.

Now he wonders if he subconsciously had the foresight to rid himself of anything that could have distracted him from an exhausted Wei Ying. He becomes so sweet and pliable when he’s tired, needy only for Lan Wangji’s affection and attention. It’s one of the only times Wei Ying lies still.

Usually.

Out of nowhere, Wei Ying springs out of his lap to sit upright on the couch. He must not be as tired as Lan Wangji thought.

“I just realized –” he says, turning back to Lan Wangji with a striking look of alarm on his face. “I can’t ask you to be my best man. Lan Zhan! You’ve ruined my wedding plans!”

Lan Wangji blinks, a little surprised. ‘Ruined’ seems a touch dramatic – if anything, he thinks recasting his role as ‘bridegroom’ is an upgrade over ‘best man’.

But because he’s tired too, his only response is: “Me?”

“Yes, you! Silly. What did you think I was gonna do? Get married at an altar where you weren’t there beside me and, wow, oh my god, that seems too revealing now that I say it out loud.”

Lan Wangji’s heart glows and he tucks a loose hair from Wei Ying’s face. The gesture makes them both smile. “I pictured you, too.”

“Aawww!! You did??” Wei Ying’s cheeks are flushing and his eyes are tearing up, but Lan Wangji is 85% sure it’s for dramatic effect. “Wait, like, always or...?”

Lan Wangji boops his nose, a private joke between them for every time he deems Wei Ying to be ‘nosy’. He knows it used to be a gesture exclusive to Jiang Yanli, his future sister, and every time Wei Ying lets him get away with it, bubbles simmer in his chest.

“Since Gusu,” he admits.

“Gusu Elementary?! Lan Zhan, you flirt! We were twelve! I waited until at least Qishan High to fall madly in love with you.” Assured, as he always is after successfully fishing for flattery, Wei Ying starts settling back into his sprawl inside Lan Wangji’s arms. “Ugh, remember Wen Chao, the principal’s kid? He’s a dad now. Facebook told me earlier.”

He isn’t pleased to have the memory of such a vile personality sour their cuddle time. He shifts, gathers Wei Ying closer, and switches the topic. “What about Jiang Wanyin?”

Wei Ying startles up again, though not all the way out of his arms, eyes wide with anxiety. “What about Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan. Do you know something I don’t? When did Jiang Cheng get a kid – where did Jiang Cheng get a kid?! I KNOW Wen Qing has an IUD!”

Ah. He sees the problem now. “For your best man,” he explains, coaxing his fiancé back down. It marvels him how much one can struggle to relax.

“Oh, thank god,” Wei Ying says, slumping back into the pillow that is his betrothed before smacking a sweatered pec. “You worried me! We’ve both seen how A-Cheng is with Jin Ling, I shudder to think how he’ll be with his own.” He really does shudder, from his head down the base of his spine. Then he fidgets, rolling up his hands in the folds of Lan Wangji’s minty blue sweater. “But yeah, I suppose he’ll do for a best man. I’ll never hear the end of it if I ask Wen Ning over him.”

He sends a grin up at Lan Wangji, happily sharing the mental image of Jiang Cheng blowing a fuse. It’s a thought that never fails to tickle him.

“What about you?” Wei Ying asks. “I assume you’ll ask your brother but isn’t he still in the arctic?”

He was. Three weeks ago, a Waterborne Abyss had somehow broken loose from the ocean floor and wound up on the surface of the Pacific Ocean. When Xichen had first gone to cleanse it, it escaped the pre-set array and fled. Xichen had been tasked to pursue and had chased the demon around the north pole for nearly eight days now with scarcely a word of update.  

Lan Wangji doesn’t like worrying about his brother. Luckily, it’s an even rarer occurrence than a truly exhausted Wei Ying.

Still...

“Mm...”

Wei Ying cuddles closer. “Ahhh, don’t worry too much, Lan Zhan, he’ll be back before you know it. He certainly won’t let some puny abyssal keep him from his didi’s wedding! I can’t wait to see him cry actual tears, I’m going to bribe Mianmian to take so many pictures.”

Lan Wangji flushes a little. He loves his brother and he knows Xichen loves him, but they never make a show of it in public. He suspects Wei Ying is correct in thinking their wedding will be an exception. Xichen has requested time to make a toast, after all.

“Hey, not to jinx it or anything, but who would you have as a best man if Lan Xichen couldn’t be? Not for a sad reason! Like, uhhh, say his wedding was on the same day, at the same time as ours. Yeah, that works.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. “Who is he marrying?”

Wei Ying’s smile goes crooked to match his brow, bemused as he is every time Lan Wangji indulges in these kinds of playful hypotheticals. “Does it matter?”

“Indubitably.”

Wei Ying laughs so hard he snorts. He is so exquisitely beautiful. “Well, if my future husband insists, I’ll paint you the whole picture. Um. Let’s say he marries... Jin Guangyao.”

Lan Wangji hums, a little put-off by the idea. It’s nothing against Jin Guangyao as a person, but he’s always been singularly difficult for Lan Wangji to read. All his favourite people – Xichen, Mingjue, Jiang Yanli, and of course Wei Ying – don’t make their thoughts or feelings hidden the way Jin Guangyao does. It leaves Lan Wangji with a very unstable opinion of the man – more than once he has badly misread a situation and felt insecure about the cues he must have missed.

Not to mention the history the man has with Wei Ying. They never talk about it, and Lan Wangji has never pried, but he knows the two were close friends as children before something fell apart between them. Wei Ying still sends a birthday wish to Jin Guangyao every year, in part because he always receives a card on his own. The card always includes a sheet of red stickers – anything red: anatomic hearts, parrots, chilli peppers, firetrucks, Santa hats, and ladybugs. Lan Wangji has never asked why he sends them or what Wei Ying does with them. It’s enough of an intrusion to watch that wistful smile play out.

“Mingjue,” he answers, refocusing on their game. “To spare the heartache.”

Wei Ying nods appreciatively at his wisdom. “Yes, yes, I agree. He’d cry, get sappy drunk, and trash the cake just to be a torturous mess at a Xiyao wedding, wouldn’t he? Best have him at ours, where he’ll cry, get sappy drunk, and sing all the worst love songs at karaoke with Nie Huaisang.”

“‘Come What May’,” Lan Wangji suggests, to Wei Ying’s delight.

“Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby’!”

“‘Your Song’.”

Wei Ying’s smile turns sweet. He nuzzles into Lan Wangji’s chest and mutters quietly, “I already have one of those.”

They fall into peaceful near-quiet for a minute, Wei Ying softly humming out the score Lan Wangji composed for him years ago when it was the only way he knew to publicly dedicate his heart. During the last measure, Wei Ying’s stomach growls and he loses himself giggling. Lan Wangji smiles, rubs his stomach for him and lightly shushes it, which makes Wei Ying laugh harder.

“Alright, alright,” he says, whipping out his phone from between the seat cushions. “Time for lunch! Sushi okay with you?”

Lan Wangji nods, sneaks in a quick peck to his forehead, and says, “Whatever you want.”

“Sweet-talker,” he chides, but a flash of teeth betrays his happiness. “What rolls do you want?”

He can’t help himself. “Volcano roll, seared salmon roll, and spicy tuna bowl, extra wasabi and spicy mayo.”

Wei Ying gives him the sweetest side-eye and Lan Wangji swears the next words past his lips will be ‘I love you’: “Then I’m ordering yam rolls, cucumber rolls, low sodium miso soup, and tamago nigiri with no wasabi whatsoever.”

He knew it.

He pulls his fiancé up into a kiss, chasing down that ‘I love you’ with his tongue, certain it must taste as good as it had sounded, maybe even better than it feels, right now, against his lips and zinging down his body like welding sparks.

Wei Ying looks absolutely dazed when he releases him. “Happy with that?” Wei Ying asks, referring to the rolls.

“Besotted,” Lan Wangji confesses, absolutely lost in this man.

“Damn right,” Wei Ying whispers, voice breathy with reciprocation. It’s another fifteen minutes of playing kiss tag before their stomachs overrule them and get their lunch order placed.

With nothing to do but wait the thirty-five minutes it will take for their delivery to be made, Wei Ying brings them back to their earlier game, before the kissing.

“So what if Lan Xichen was marrying Nie Mingjue? Who would be your best man, then?”

It’s a slightly harder question than the last. Since he can remember, Nie Mingjue has been a brother by proxy, which means Lan Wangji must consider best men that aren’t brothers. Surprisingly, a person comes to mind rather quickly.

“Jin Zixuan.”

Wei Ying may have fallen to the floor if Lan Wangji’s arms weren’t such a secure tether to the couch. “WHAT?! WHY? Don’t tell me you’ve become friends with that Peacock behind my back! Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, how could you betray me like this!?”

Lan Wangji frowns. “We were already friends.”

Wei Ying scoffs, “You were not.”

“We had coffee last week.”

“YOU HAD COFFEE?!” Distressed, Wei Ying drops his head into Lan Wangji’s sweater, whining about the slew of injustice. “Unacceptable... already friends... didn’t even rub off on the peacock at all, stupid... without telling me , Lan Zhan... such betrayal, much scandal, wow...”

Despite the energetic upset, Lan Wangji feels a yawn against his chest. Wei Ying’s exhaustion is finally catching up to him. “There, there,” he comforts, patting his head.

“Mmmm...” mutters the mess of hair. “Feels good, keep doing that. It eases my betrayed and deceived heart.”

Wei Ying’s requests are never difficult to fulfill – this one, especially so. Lan Wangji lets his posture relax further, content to sit in the sleepy energy of Sunday. Wei Ying keeps purring against him, breaths slowing and lengthening. They’ll both sleep through the food delivery at this rate.

Lan Wangji adds a light scratch to his pets and says, “Take a nap, Wei Ying. I’ll wait for lunch.”

Wei Ying hums in disagreement. “You’ll get bored, Lan Zhan. Here...” He rouses himself enough to stretch for the coffee table and grabs Lan Wangji’s reading glasses and latest novel. “Read. I can prop it up for you, like an actual supportive fiancé.”

Lan Wangji chuckles under his breath as he unfolds his glasses. “You are undoubtedly the best fiancé.”

Wei Ying bats blindly at the hand that pets him. “Shush, you! I’m sleeping now.”

Later, when their stomachs are stuffed full of too much rice, Lan Wangji thinks he’ll request they return to the couch. This is a day full of rarities and he’s determined to savour every minute of this sleeply, perfect man that it will gift him.

[robronvalentineexchange]

Operation Idiots

for @like-the-first-time-i-kissed-you

There was pink and red everywhere. Robert looked in the village. David’s shop was the worst offender, and he felt blinded by it all. The pink cards, the pink flowers, pink colored crisp packages and even the beer cans in the refrigerators seemed to not have been saved from the Valentine’s take over. He shook his head and wondered vaguely if Valentine’s Day as a holiday had taken over the world while he was in prison? He frowned at the flower display and tried to push the holiday out of his mind, or rather the person it made him think about.  

He’d told Vic he’d do the shopping – needing to give her something back for letting him say with her until he figured out a flat for himself. It was hard going because he wanted to be in Emmerdale. He needed to stay close to his family. He’d missed them more deeply than he expected to while he was in prison and being home. It felt amazing to back in his sister’s life, to know his nephew — even Diane wasn’t annoying him to often. He supposed eventually that might fade, but he missed her.

Robert needed them. All of them. But most of all he needed Seb. The thought of him made all the Valentine’s Day decoration fade away. He felt a rush of happiness that made him feel like he was buzzing from the inside. Seb was spectacular. He was perfect. He was too old, twelve, and Robert lost far too much time. But they were getting along, somehow, his son didn’t hate him for leaving him — it’d been his worst nightmare over the years. But after a few hard questions, Seb had hugged him and cried and told him he was happy Robert was home.  

He wasn’t sure if his homecoming would’ve gone so easily if Seb hadn’t accepted him, but he did, so Robert pushed down the what-ifs and found it easier to ignore all the cheery pink around him.  He smiled at the thought of his son and how amazing he was —

But the real reason for that popped up in his mind, and he saw himself looking at a card that was taped to the wall as decoration. To My Husband on its cover and he frowned.

Aaron.

Only they weren’t husbands, not anymore. Robert had ended it with the clink of his ring on a white table. He watched Aaron take it, not realizing what was happening and hated himself more than he ever had before. But it was the past now, and he needed to focus on the present. He told himself it wasn’t like they’d ever celebrated Valentine’s Day themselves when they were together. He remembered mocking it more than anything, shaking their heads at the fuss and people wasting their money. Then using it as an excuse to make it an early night. As if they never found on any given day to do the same.

Memories of them in bed rose up, and he couldn’t stop the smile. The truth was he spent a lot of hours thinking about them to simply stay sane in prison. There were lists and rankings, and maybe it was mad, but it’d kept his alive. It wasn’t just sex, of course, it was laughter and conversations. It was Aaron. It’d kept him alive somehow. Even when the thought of Aaron was a wound in his heart instead. Missing him, letting him go, it was a double-edged blade — thinking about him saved him, but it’d also hurt too.

He smacked a hot pink balloon with a bit too much heft as he passed it and tried to bury down the memories. He needed to let him go — again. Always. He was out now, and he couldn’t use Aaron like this any longer. They were over, and it wasn’t going to change. He’d shoved Aaron away without looking back years ago, and it’d worked. Aaron moved on with a life without Robert in it, and now there was too much time and distance.  

And Aaron had moved on.

At least he wasn’t married.

Though he was living with someone. Tim or Jim, or was Ian? Robert shook his head and hated eventually he’d learn the man’s name. The man he had to accept had a life with Aaron. But, no all that mattered was the man was good to Seb, that he accepted his son and wasn’t going to hurt him. And he knew Aaron would never put up with that, so there was nothing to worry about — his son was safe and happy. His son was being raised by Aaron, and Aaron was allowing Robert to take part in it. Somehow despite all the time and distance between them.  

He was back to thinking about his son About the things he’d learned. How he was tall for his age, how he’d inherited the Sugden freckles, and somehow he was still more of a redhead than a blonde. Robert grinned as he thought about bright and precocious Seb was, but it grew wider at the fact his son scowled a bit. It made him look so much like Aaron that it hurt a bit. It also made relief flood him that his son had Aaron in him, that he was being raised by Aaron because Robert had always wanted it. He’d always thought his son’s best interests would be under Aaron’s watchful eye.

He always knew Aaron would be the perfect dad.

He frowned as he realized he hadn’t managed to get Aaron out of his mind at all. And on cue, the bell to the shop rang and Robert looked up and in came the two most important people in his life.  He felt a bit blinded by the two of them, there together. Both of them smiling at him like they were glad to see him. Aaron’s smile seemed bright, and their eyes met, and Robert felt that familiar pull he always felt around Aaron. He wished he could give into it, wished all of this was more than just a hello, but he felt thankful Aaron seemed to have met his promise about them being mates.  

“Hi ya,” Aaron said after a moment with a shake of his head, like he was rude forgetting.  

Robert just shrugged at him and returned the greeting.

Seb made an odd snorting sort of noise, which made Robert look at him, and a rush of extreme affection rolled through him. He suddenly he realized he did have a reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was the perfect excuse to find another way to spoil Seb rotten — and he meant too, he meant to show Seb he loved him in any way he could possibly manage.  

“Hey, kiddo,” he said.

“That’s a lot of food,” Seb said, pointing to his overly full cart of food.

“Your Aunt Vic’s fridge is empty,” Robert laughed. “She’s gotten a bit caught up with work lately…”

“Yeah… Valentine’s rush, mum, calls it,” Aaron laughed. “It’s like people do test runs at the Woolpack.”

“Test runs, for what dropping a ring in the wine glass?” Robert rolled his eyes.

Aaron laughed. “Who would propose at the Woolpack? Daft.”

“What’re you gonna…” he sighed and instantly regretted the question.

“What?” Aaron prodded.

“Doing for…” Robert shrugged and looked at David’s gaudy display of red and pink flowers.

“Oh…uh,” Aaron mumbled and looked down at his feet.

Robert braced himself to hear Aaron was going away with his boyfriend or something.

“Tim and Da, they broke up.” Seb nearly shouted it, and Robert stared at his son. Seb beamed at him. “Tim and Da, they broke up.”

“Oh….” Robert bit the inside of his cheek because he couldn’t smile, he couldn’t assume this was good news. It really wasn't… Aaron had been living with this man.  

“Yeah… it wasn't… it just wasn’t going to work out.”

Robert opened his mouth to attempt to tell Aaron he was sorry to hear it when his son spoke over him.

“Maybe Dad can come over Friday,”  

“Friday?” the two of them said in unison, given it was Wednesday.  

“Valentine’s Day,” Seb announced like it wasn’t anything.

He shook his head and tried not to notice that Aaron was doing the same — it shouldn’t hurt, and he was saying no too, obviously. But he needed to avoid Aaron’s face, and his own felt hot, and he wished they could spend the day together, but they just couldn’t do that…

They couldn’t.  

But he had another idea. “How about you and I do something on Valentine’s Day, Seb?”

“I’m your son,” he muttered.

“Exactly and I love ya… So, we could make a special day of it, right? If your Dad’s okay with it?”

“Yeah, it’s a great idea. What do you say, Seb?”

Seb looked from Aaron to Robert and back again with an odd expression on his face. Robert was just learning how to read his son, and he wasn’t all sure what it was he was witnessing, and he was afraid Seb was about to say no, that he didn’t want to spend time with him and he wondered if he could brace for that hurt.

“Seb…” Aaron said, his voice gruff.

“Okay, yeah, of course,” Seb said quickly, and he hugged Robert too. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.” He pulled away from Robert and looked, Aaron. “I saw Isaac was up at the swings can I go, Da?”

“Of course,” Aaron said, and Seb rushed off quickly.

“It isn’t weird, is it?” Robert asked after a beat.

“What?”

“Father and son on Valentine’s Day?”

“Bloody made-up holiday anyway, why not use it as an excuse to love on him?” Aaron shrugged. “Plus, he’s got your sweet tooth, so chocolate will win help in you continue to win him over.”

“Are you suggesting I’d bribe my son to like me?”

“Are you suggesting you wouldn’t?” Aaron’s eyes glinted.

“No,” Robert laughed, and it felt like they fell into a staring contest. Robert cleared his throat and asked another question he shouldn’t, but he was curious.  "What happened with…“

"Tim? It just wasn’t going to… It wasn’t going to work out…” Aaron cleared his throat. “It’s been coming.”

“Oh, yeah… I just didn’t…” He felt stupid and like he was making it all about him, or them when it probably wasn’t about him at all.

“It just wasn’t going to work out, we wanted different things…” Aaron said after a beat.  

“I'm…” he tried to say sorry, but it never formed on his tongue.

They stood there again, and Robert started to wonder if they were standing to close when Aaron broke the silence again. “So…A pint later?”

Robert smiled with relief, and he felt more grounded again. The truth was they’d decided to be mates. They’d avoided each other when he first got back. They’d yelled at each other, and then Robert had broken down and apologized. Aaron revealed he’d forgiven him years ago…

They got to a good place. It was for Seb, really, Robert thought because they couldn’t raise him together as strangers. And Aaron offered to do this to make them equal in their son’s life, and Robert felt grateful. The truth was Aaron held the cards, he was the one who was raising their son, and Robert wasn’t going to take away that power. But Aaron wanted them to do it together, he promised Robert they’d figure out a way and asked for them to mates.

So they were mates.

And they went for a pint.

Nearly every day.

“Yeah, meet ya there, usual time?”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah.”

“Great…” He said. “I better…” He raised up his groceries.

“Right… I should get what I came in for…” Aaron looked around the shop.

Yet they stood there together, both of them pointedly not looking at the other before they cleared their throats and went their separate ways. As Robert turned, he caught a glimpse of Seb through the window and smiled at him, happy to see him but a bit curious why he was looking into the store. Seb blinked, then smiled and waved at him before turning around and heading toward the playground.  

Robert shrugged, shook his head, and stuck his groceries down for the kid currently working for David to scan.

One Day Later

Seb sighed where he sat at the bar of the Woolpack, his maths homework spread out in front of him. He was nearly done, he could’ve been done ages ago, but he kept getting distracted. But how STUPID his Dads were. They were first-class idiots. Seb had never seen anyone or anything more ridiculous than the two of them. He really wondered how they could be so monumentally idiotic?

He turned back to his maths, but he couldn’t focus, so he ended up looking at his Dads again and sighed again. Because they looked happy, they looked more than happy, really, and Seb was sick and tired of them ignoring the fact that they only felt that way together.

He could see it. They both smiled the entire time, they’d see each other, and their faces would light up, and they’d talk, and the smiles would be wider and brighter. They reached his Da’s eyes, and he had never seen his Da smile like that and all his clearest memories his Da was there… and he was sometimes a sulky bloke, but so was Seb — so what, but he’d thought he’d seen his Da happy before. He thought Tim had made his Da happy, but then he’d seen his Dad make his Da laugh…

And yeah, there was no comparing it.

His Da was the happiest Seb ever seen him since his dad came home — Seb was too, and he knew his Dad was because he told Seb more than once that being in his life again was the happiest he’d been in a long time. But he was still sad when his Da wasn’t around, and his Da was downright moody and weird when his Dad wasn’t around.

But they kept saying they were just mates. Seb shook his head because they didn’t look like mates. And they looked way more happy and in love than Da had ever looked with Tim. And Tim had been gone for weeks now, weeks, and he definitely wasn’t coming back…

So wasn’t his Da saying anything to his Dad about them.

They loved each other, you’d need to live under a rock to not know it.

How did they not know it? It seemed the only explanation, the two of them were being idiots who couldn’t see the truth. They belonged together. Seb was starting to believe he was the one who would have to do something about it. If they wouldn’t spend Valentine’s Day together — he’d just have to figure out how to make it happen.

~~~

He decided Leyla Harding-Cavanaugh was his only hope for two very important reasons. The first was a conversation he’d overheard between her and Tracy the night before…. It seemed he wasn’t the only one watching his Dads and wondering why they were being slow about admitting their feelings. She thought it would happen sooner rather than later. Seb had heard her use the word inevitable. So, they were in agreement that his Dads belonged together, and that made her a natural ally. Second. Her job was throwing Weddings. Soppy things were her specialty, so she would know exactly what he needed to do to get his Dads to stop being idiots.

So he walked into Take a Vow, carrying the big shoe box from under his bed and marched up to Leyla at her desk and spilled all the coins and paper bills of money he had onto it and announced himself.

“I need to hire you for advice,” he said.

Leyla blinked at him a bit and stared at the money. “What?”

“I need to hire you for advice,” he repeated.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

Then she was grinning. She leaned forward her eyes wide with interest. “Who is the lucky girl or boy you want to impress for Valentine’s Day?”

He screwed up his face in disgust. “Ew. It’s not about me.”

“It’s not?”

“No…gross.”

“I’m confused,” Leyla shook her head.

“It’s my Dads.”

“Oh…” She breathed it out like it solved all the questions in the universe.

“How do I get them to admit they should get back together?”  

She was back to blinking at him and he’d really never noticed how long her eyelashes were — they had to be fake, he leaned forward a bit to see if he could tell.

“Seb, I don’t think I can help you there.”

“No! You have too, it’s taking way too long and their all sad when they aren’t together.”

“Well… it is very complicated.”

“Is not,” he stood his ground. “They’re happier together. Da does this thing with his mouth I didn’t know he could, and my Dad gets bigger, like he’s less scared of everything since he’s out of prison. And they laugh, and they talk FOREVER and forget to drink their pints. They need to get back together, PLEEEEEASE.”

“Isn’t your dad with Tim?”

“They broke up like weeks ago….” Seb sighed, feeling frustrated.

Leyla’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes! And it’s Valentine’s Day, shouldn’t they get together then?”

“Well…”

“You have to help me make them see it’s for the best.”

“I don’t know what I can do, though… I don’t really disagree with you, always was a bit jealous of them really…. But it’s been a long time, and your dad, Robert, he just got out of prison.”

“It’s been months, he got out before my birthday.”

“Well… I mean short of knocking their heads together, I really don’t know…”

“Knocking their heads together, how would that work?”

“Not literally, locking them in a room or something until they really talk about things… but I mean, you can’t really do that, can you, Seb.”

“Lock them…” Seb’s brain felt warm, thoughts were forming, a plan was taking place. HE KNEW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO. “Thank you, Mrs. Harding-Cavanagh,” he shouted before running out of her shop.

“Seb, your money…” Leyla yelled.

“You earned it,” he yelled back just before the door closed and grinned madly.

Operation Idiots was in effect.

There were just a few details to iron out before Friday.

~~~

Later on Thursday

Robert glanced at the cheap watch on his wrist, and Aaron averted his eyes from it and tried not to think about the watch that used to live on his husb — no Robert’s wrist… Aaron sighed and wondered when he’d find the courage to return the watch to Robert now that he was out — he could give it to Seb himself someday. But the thought of even touching that watch brought up feelings and thoughts that were just best avoided.  

“Huh…it’s really late, Aaron.”

Aaron glanced at the pint he’d barely taken a sip from because they’d just kept talking all night. Not about much really, mostly Seb and some random subjects. It wasn’t like they’d ever had issues just talking, or getting along, or just being quiet together. It was all so simple, really, how easy it was to be Robert’s mate and just meet for a pint. "Is it?“

"Going on ten.”

Aaron’s eyes widened, and he looked around the bar. Seb was easy to find. He was at the corner of it by the door to the kitchen. His books were all shut, and he was sitting there and looking at them. At seeing Aaron look over, he immediately looked away like he’d been caught — that was weird. Or maybe he knew it was way past his bedtime. “I’ve gotta get Seb home…”

Robert nodded and moved to his feet. “Of course.”

Somehow though, Aaron and Seb found themselves walking with Robert. He and Seb were talking. Robert checking he’d done all his homework and listening to him talk about his assignments. Aaron felt a warmth in his chest at it all, Robert getting to hear about their kid’s day at school, and he swallowed over a lump in his throat at it all. It was nice, but it also unsettled him.  

They all came to a stop in front of Keepers.

“Well, here I am…” Robert said. “So, I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow, and we’ll spend the rest of the day together?” he asked Seb and Aaron wished he stop sounding so unsure.

“Of course, Dad, I want too,” Seb said, his tone reassuring and saying with it what Aaron wished he could find the words to say to Robert. He wanted Robert to see what he did, how mad their kid was about him. Seb loved Robert, he’d never stopped. Asked about him all the time, in a lot of ways, he’d kept Robert alive for Aaron in a way that didn’t burn — too much.  

Robert looked relieved and hugged Seb goodbye, running a hand over his head before standing up straighter. “Well, yeah, I’ll see ya, Aaron.”

“See ya…” Aaron echoed.

But they stood there, gazes locked for a good minute. Aaron searched for an excuse to keep talking, but there was none, and he almost thought Robert was doing that same. But then Robert shook his head a bit and turned around. And Aaron watched him walk away and go inside the cottage.

And Aaron felt an impulse to fly at the door, bang on it, and drag Robert home with him because he was remembering another February. A night where he stood exactly where he was standing now and shouted at Robert that they belonged together because it was the truth of them. Of him. It was something he knew in his bones, that Robert was it for him and no one else would ever compare.

He loved Robert.

He knew he loved Robert.

It was in the bones of him.

He’d broken up with Tim because with Robert back, he’d seen he’d been settling — again — and he knew he couldn’t do that to Tim. Tim deserved someone who could give him all of themselves. Aaron would never be able to do that with any other man but Robert.

Yet it didn’t mean he was letting Robert back into his heart, into his home, into his life…

Even though it was all forgiven.  

He’d forgiven Robert a long time ago for pushing him away. He’d always understood why even if he hadn’t been able to admit for the first year or so… But even so, when Robert arrived back in town that anger had risen up and he’d yelled, he’d yelled until his throat was hoarse. They’d cried, they’d both apologized but hearing Robert’s had given him clarity.

It truly was all forgiven.

But it was too late for them.

It’d been too long.

It was too risky.

All those things echoed and repeated in Aaron’s head, so he’d done the only thing he could think of and promised himself they’d be mates. Best mates, close mates… that’d they be friends. Because at the very least, he could get his best friend back because it was the truth. Somewhere during all their breakups and reunions, Robert had become his best friend, the one person who knew him with just a look and that he could talk to about anything.

The depth of how he’d just missed that alone was unspeakable.

So, they had a pint, every day, and talked about everything, talked about nothing — like today where they’d mocked Valentine’s Day again like they used too and talked about Seb and what he might like to do with Robert. Then they just talked about their son, because it was the easiest and both their favorite subject… But it’d been quiet too, or they’d spoken about nothing really, it’d just been good to sit together, to laugh together.

Aaron ignored the fact he’d ached to touch Robert the entire time, and now he pushed down the ached he felt to fly at Vic’s door, pound on it, and shout at Robert to come home.

“Da?” Seb’s voice broke through his thoughts.

And reminded him how terrifying his feelings where. Because it was terrifying. What if it all went wrong? Aaron wouldn’t be the only one hurt. He turned to Seb and smiled at him and ignored that it was a bit forced because he did ache for Robert. But their son was everything, to him and to Robert.

And they weren’t going to risk hurting him.

“Let’s get home,” Aaron said and started walking toward the Mill.

“Why can’t you come with us tomorrow.”

“It’d be good for you and your dad to have a day to yourselves, don’t you want too?”

“Of course, yeah, it’ll be fun, but…”

“What?”

“Couldn’t all of us just play some games and watch a movie at The Mill?”

“No,” Aaron shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Seb, I have to work tomorrow anyway, there is a big shipment, I will be stuck up there long after you get home from school. And this is important to your dad, all right. He likes to spoil the people he loves, and he’s got a lot of lost time to make up with you.”

Seb’s face went serious, and he nodded. “I get it, I guess, but I love him. He doesn’t have to spoil me.”

“I know, I think he might know that too, but remind him, alright…” Aaron frowned. “Sometimes, he doesn’t think he’s enough.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated. Come on, we’ve got to get you home, it’s past your bedtime, I don’t know how it got so late.”

Seb snorted.  

“What?”

“You don’t know how it got so late?” Seb was giving him a look.

Aaron blinked at him.

“Whatever,” Seb whined two seconds later.

“Seb?”

Seb sighed and yawned. “I’m just tired, I guess, since it’s so late, forget it.”

Aaron smiled at him, fondly and put his hands on his shoulders. He was getting so tall, he would be taller than him, and he wondered if he’d be taller than Robert or the same height as him. “Let’s get you home.”

“I just…”

“What Seb?”

“He never comes to the Mill, Dad… Unless you’re not there.”

“Seb,” Aaron sighed. “It’s just complicated.”

“Why?”

“The Mill is…” Aaron shook his head. “It’s better this way, alright.”

“Why?”

They weren’t purposely doing it, at least Aaron didn’t think they were. But it made sense, he thought. Them avoiding being together at the Mill. It’d been their home, and it’d been a happy home. Robert built it for them, and once they finally were truly together, nothing else between them and living together. It’d been the best days of Aaron’s life, and he looked back and knew he’d never been that happy before. And he only came close to be that happy again when he was with Robert — he knew it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.  

They couldn’t go back. Could they?

As they walked closer to it, Aaron realized he hadn’t allowed it to change much over the years. He could bring himself to completely de-Robert it. Things here and there changed but the soul of it… The soul of it was what Robert built.

For them.

Robert had been in the Mill a few times since he came home. And the space was loud around them… All the happy memories had echoed around them, and for Aaron, it brought back their dreams too. Seeing Robert in the Mill reminded him about their life together, how they’d wanted more children. He thought about them now, those children. Would they be boys or girls? Would they be more like Robert or him…  

“Da?” Seb sounded worried, and Aaron looked at him and knew they’d all be as brilliant as him. Suddenly he was missing children he never had and never would have…  

There was no blame, but that dream was broken.

“It’s just complicated, Seb,” Aaron repeated.

“I just… I like having you both around and…”

“You’ll always have the both of us, Seb,” Aaron interrupted him. “Always,  Robert’s not going anywhere. Never again.”

“I know that,” Seb sounded exasperated. “Do you?”

“What?”

“I know Dad’s staying. But I don’t think you’ve figured it out.” Seb stalked into the Mill.

Seb suddenly seemed older than his twelve years. Aaron had seen a fierceness in his eyes that showed he’d meant every word, but Aaron wasn’t at all sure he understood at all what Seb meant. He hurried into the Mill and caught him just before he went upstairs.

“Seb, I know your dad will never leave ya, again.”

“I’m not talking about me, Da,” Seb sounded even more frustrated. “I’m going to bed.”

All Aaron could do was shake his head.

Valentine’s Day

“So, you’re working?” it was the third time he doubled his check his dad planned to be at the scrapyard ALL DAY. But it was important to his plan that the day goes according to THE PLAN.

“I told you, big shipment coming in this morning, will be busy all day.”

“Right so, the shipment’s at…”

“Around noon… Seb, what’s this about?”

“Nothing,” he muttered and put a piece of toast in his mouth. But he felt his dad’s eyes on him. Seb knew he seemed suspicious, but it was hard to act calm about everything. This plan could change everything. This plan had to change everything, he thought as he stuffed more toast in his mouth and hoped Da would drop it.

He got lucky, and his dad went back to eating his own toast.

Seb started to smile as he chewed.

“Looking forward to your day with your Dad?” Aaron asked him, and it was the third or fourth time. He wasn’t the only one repeating questions.

“Yeah, of course. Still think it’s a dumb holiday,” he muttered, because it was dumb — unless he managed to get his Dads back together, then it might become his favorite holiday.  

“It’s important to your dad to treat ya, Seb.”

“And I’m gonna let him…” Seb grinned. “I mean, he tries too hard, but it’s nice…” He bit into the last piece of toast because he felt his eyes getting wet. The truth was he really did like spending time with his Dad. Anywhere and anyway, he didn’t really care.  His Da wasn’t the only one who had missed him.

The truth was before Dad came back, all of Seb’s memories about him were pretty blurry. But, he remembered a lot of sweets being given to him, and there were funny voices he’d make for the characters in all his favorite books. Seb remembered being held in strong arms and feeling safe. And he’d tried hang onto that memory the hardest after his mum died. He’d tried to hang onto all of them harder after she died, and wished he had clearer ones to hold on like he did of her.

But it got harder the older he was…

And now he had him back he knew again how safe his hugs felt and that his Dad loved him and how he smiled at hard he was always trying and how sometimes he asked too many questions and Seb didn’t really have all the answers. But his Dad wanted to know him, and he wanted to know his Dad too…

But he wanted him home more.

Being back in the village wasn’t enough.

Harry shouldn’t be the one getting to live with him.

Seb wanted his Dads together because that was going to make them happier, and it would make him happier too.

So, today his Dad wasn’t going to get to try to hard to show his love. No, today, his Dad was finally going to admit he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his Da again…

At least if Seb had any say in the matter.

“I love him, Da,” Seb said.

Aaron smiled at him at that, and the light in his eyes almost lit up as much as it did around his Dad. But it faded out quickly, and his father shook his head. “Yeah, yeah…he loves you.”

“Da?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you?” Seb asked as doubt about his plan creeped in out of nowhere.

“Do I what?”

“Love Dad?”

“Seb…” His voice sounded clogged up. “It’s complicated.”

Seb frowned. “That’s grown-up, for I don’t wanna lie to you.”

“It is not.”

“Then tell me the truth? You always say the truth is best.”

“Seb…”

“What?”

Aaron sighed and moved his chair closer to Seb. “Sometimes, love is complicated and when you’re older…”

“So, you do, love him,” Seb exclaimed because that was all he needed to know to be sure again.

“Yes….but.”

“I knew it,” Seb grinned, cutting his father’s disclaimer off. Seb was pretty sure it was just grown-up lies and silliness anyway. His doubt was gone, and he nodded to himself. He’d seen them together, he knew his Da’s smiles, and he knew only his Dad had the power to make him really happy.

He was definitely doing the right thing.

~~~

“No?” Robert scratched the back of his neck and tried not to feel out of sorts, but it was easy to feel thrown by Seb. He wanted them to get along, and he wanted to spend as much as time as he could with him. He knew he’d never get bored of him, he loved him so much — it hurt sometimes. And he’d lost so much time, and since deciding on spending Valentine’s Day with him, he’d been looking forward to it a lot.

But Seb seemed off, and now he was saying no to a movie, and Robert felt hurt, and he tried to shove it aside because it wasn’t about him. It was about his son. He took a deep breath and told himself it was just a no to seeing a movie. Maybe Seb had something else he wanted to do.  

“I forgot something in Da’s car,” Seb said as he finished off his chocolate donut. “It’s part of a maths project that’s due Monday.”

Robert frowned. “Was it assigned today, you haven’t mentioned it before?”

“No, I just forgot about it. But I thought Aunt Liv is always saying your good at maths and all. Can you help me with it today? Maybe we can do a movie later, with Da? Please, Dad?”

“Yeah, of course… I mean, I’m not going to let you not finish your homework… Seb, you should have brought this up sooner.”

Seb just shrugged at him, swallowed the donut, and grinned at him in a way that was a lot like looking into a mirror. It made Robert smile, but something about the shine in Seb’s eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  He chuckled a bit and told himself it was probably a warning that he was in for it with this kid – that this amazing kid was his and he was going to have his hands full. All he wanted was to be a good father, he could at least do all he could to get that right and be there for Seb.

Always.

“Alright, so you left it in your dad’s car?”

“Yeah, the backseat…”  

“Alright, I’ll call him,” he started to pull his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“He’s probably outside, he’s at the scrapyard, said there was a shipment….” Seb hopped up from the table, “Let’s just drive up there.”

Robert nodded and felt thankful he had Vic’s car for the day, and soon enough, they’d climbed into it, and his son started texting. He frowned at that and elbowed him a bit.

“Who are you texting?”

“Belle… I thought since we’re heading that way, I’d walk over to see the pigs? Just making sure someone is home.”

“Okay…” Robert nodded. “You like pigs?”

“Oh yeah, and the cows and lambs at Isaac’s…it’s fun to play with them. Isaac doesn’t like too so much, says he gets stuck having to wake up early, and he gets smelly from things his mum makes him do. I like my chores better.”

Robert smiled. “I hated farming chores, myself.”

“You had chores like Isaac…”

“Yeah, I grew up on a farm like Butler’s…’ Robert smiled and started talking about his childhood, amazed at how easy it felt to talk about memories that use to cause only pain. But it was made easy by Seb’s smiles and simple questions and put everything into a different perspective.  

"Belle says I can come over.”

“Tell her, I’ll be there too…” Robert laughed as he pulled into the scrapyard, a flood of memories hitting him, and he gripped the wheel a bit tight at an onslaught of memories. He and Aaron had been through a lot, and the scrapyard had always been there through all the ups and all the downs. Robert had lost count of the times they’d locked the doors to the Portacabin – when they remembered too anyway.  

But now wasn’t the time for those memories, and he pushed it down for another memory to rise up. It was a bright memory and one of his favorites. He’d thought about it a lot over the years. I’d gotten him through a lot of hard times, and now he could share it with his son… He was back in his son’s life, and he could tell him about the amazing moment Aaron first held him.

“You know, the first time your dad held ya, was in that PortaCabin.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… You were a little terror, I was stressed out, and you were picking it up. Your dad, he held ya for me, and you calmed right down and wrapped him around your finger, I think…” Robert smiled. “I remembered thinking it looked ao right, you two, together…” he sniffed hard to fend off tears, the visceral memory surprising him a bit as he spoke. “I’m just so happy you’ve had him in your life Seb. There is no one who can love ya better than Aaron.”

“There’s you, too, Dad. You both love me loads,” Seb smiled.

“I’ll try.”

Seb beamed and in a blink he was out of the car.

“Seb…” Robert laughed and hurried after him. He felt weird about stepping into the PortaCabin. He’d been working out of Vic’s flat or Nicola’s house rather than up here. It’d felt wrong to encroach on Aaron’s spaces after so long… The first thing he noticed was that the desks had been shifted about a bit bit, but it was the same four walls. There was a slightly newer looking heater that it seemed to keep the room a bit of bearable temperature even in February in Yorkshire.  a

“Hi ya…” Aaron said, looking at the two of them with confusion. “I thought we decided…”  

Not to see each other today. Robert finished for him in his head, and they hadn’t spoken about it. It’d been a silent agreement, and Robert wasn’t totally certain why… Valentine’s Day wasn’t important to them, but it felt like… It felt like it might bring up all the things they both want to say, or the things they feel they can’t say. It just felt best to avoid it altogether.

After all, there was no them.

“Seb forgot about a maths project…” Robert said.

“He what?” Aaron looked at their son.

“Yeah…” Seb muttered. “Sorry… I left it in the car, can I have the keys?”

Aaron sighed and pulled his keys off the ring by the PortaCabin door. “Alright, go get it.”

Seb took the keys and grinned.

Robert felt his hair on his neck, go up again.

“Seb?” Aaron was saying Seb’s name in a parental tone and standing up.

Seb slammed the door shut behind him.

“Oi, no need to slam the…” Aaron shouted but stopped short as they heard the clang of keys and loud click. “Seb!”

Robert stared at the locked door and jumped when his cell phone rang. He grabbed at it and nodded. “It’s him,” he muttered as he answered it.

“Put me on speaker…”

Robert followed the order, mostly because he was too puzzled to do anything else. “Seb, open the door…” the both of them yelled.

“Welcome to Operation Idiots. It’s been FOREVER already, I can’t wait any longer. I’m tired of watching you be all happy together and then sad when you’re apart. I might be a kid, but it is obvious you belong together. I am tired of waiting. So, it is Valentine’s Day, so it’s the perfect time for you two to GET BACK TOGETHER. You’ll be alone, no one will interrupt and you can’t wuss out and leave cause I locked the door. I’ll be over at Wishing Well with the pigs and Belle, so don’t worry about me, I’m sorted.”

The line went dead.

“SEB,” Aaron shouted, and he pounded on the door. “SEB.”

Robert walked to the window and peered out. Sure enough, his son was skipping, his way toward Wishing Well. He shoved his phone into his jacket and suddenly wondered what the hell to do with his arms, legs, hell his entire body.

He was alone with Aaron for the foreseeable.

And the truth was they’d been meeting in public spaces for a reason.

Even if they never spoke it.

Aaron shouted Seb’s name one more time before just stopping. He seemed to just freeze facing the door and let out a long breath.  Then he turned around, and Robert forced himself to look at him.

Aaron looked as frazzled as he felt.

Somehow that allowed him to breathe.

Aaron moved next to him, both of them sitting a bit on the desk with less clutter on it. Aaron scraped his hands over his face and shook his head. “He’s…”

“Mine?” Robert offered with a laugh.

Aaron chuckled.

“Does he really have a maths project?” Robert asked.

“Probably not.”  

Robert laughed again.

Aaron sighed.

“Operation Idiots?” they spoke together, then laughed together, and Robert felt his heart hammer in his chest as he remembered every time he’d fondly called Aaron an idiot… Especially that day, during the last proposal when they’d jinxed each other and Aaron been mad, Robert tried to step on his turn to propose…

It felt so long ago. It was so long ago. But he looked at Aaron and felt like no time had passed at all. But it was heavy now, the memory and realized they’d only managed a year of happiness. He’d ruined it, he’d ruined them every time and did he really deserve another chance.  He wanted it, he wanted it enough to take it – he knew he’d take it if Aaron offered.  

But he couldn’t ask for it.

And he doubted Aaron would offer it.  

Aaron cleared his throat and looked away from him.  

“I’ll call Belle…” He said and dialed her number.

Robert nodded.

“Belle, it’s Aaron…” He started. “Look, can you get the keys from Seb and come and let… What… What do ya.. What?”

“What is she saying?”

“It is not a good idea…” Aaron sighed. “What did he tell ya?”

“Aaron?”

“Belle, no… Belle, just… Hello? Hello?” Aaron groaned.

“Is she coming?” Robert asked though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“No. She thinks Seb has a point, and we should talk.”

“She what?”

Aaron’s cheeks went red, and he ducked his head. “She’s decided to support Seb’s plan.”

“He’s twelve.”

“Liv was fourteen,” Aaron said.

Robert laughed. “At least we had a beer then.”

Aaron smiled, and their eyes locked.

Then they both looked away.

Robert sighed.

“Belle really won’t make us stay here too long… So uh… Get comfortable?” Aaron muttered and he sat down at his desk. “I guess I’ll do paperwork.”

“Really?” Robert said.

“What?” Aaron said as he sat down.

“Paperwork?”

Aaron averted his eyes and pulled out a pen.

Robert stared at him, and he shifted where he stood. He tried sitting down. He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. He sighed a few times and glanced at Aaron — a few times he caught Aaron glancing at him, and he was pretty sure Aaron wasn’t actually doing the paperwork in front of him.

Robert cleared his throat loudly.

Aaron looked at him.

“Would…would…” He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t, …but he wanted too and somehow that won out.  "Would talking about what Seb said be so bad?“  

Aaron pretended to be reading whatever paperwork he had under his nose for a bit longer before he finally just dropped the pen he was holding. But he stayed silent.

"Forget it…” Robert muttered.

“Maybe…” Aaron sighed.

“What?” Robert asked they’d spoken at the same time.

Aaron looked at him. “Maybe we should say it.”

“Say what?”

“That’s it’s…off the table.”

Robert clenched his jaw and looked away from Aaron. He ended up turning his back to him as he tried to tell himself he deserved how hard that hurt. It felt like something been slammed at his chest, and the mere thought of it made him feel wrong in his skin. Robert gritted his teeth and forced himself to turn around again and face Aaron. When he turned, he saw Aaron had stood up, and he looked a bit uncertain where he stood, but he wasn’t speaking. But he wasn’t taking it back, and his mouth opened a bit like he wanted to speak, but nothing was coming out of it.

“Alright, then… Say it,” Robert said because it was what Aaron wanted. He could voice it out loud. He could make it true, that there was no going back to them — that was real, there was no hope.

Aaron opened his mouth and closed it.  

Robert waited.

“I can't…” Aaron sighed.

“Love me?” Robert asked before he stopped himself.

“What? No, Robert, say we’re off the table. I can't…I can’t say that.”

“What? I thought you wanted that…”

“Can you? Do you?” Aaron asked him.

Robert shook his head.

“But…” Aaron winced and sat back down at his desk.

Robert sighed.  

“Seb asked me if I still loved you…” Aaron said.

“What did you say?”

“That it was complicated.”

Robert nodded.

“But it isn’t…” Aaron stood up.

“What?”

“Loving you isn’t complicated, it just is Robert.”

“But?”

“It scares me, it always has and it always will…”

Robert nodded.

“And maybe if…”

“If what?”

“If Seb wouldn’t get caught up in the tidal wave…” Aaron said.

Robert nodded.

“I love you, but I don’t know how I can risk you again, Robert.”

“I know,” he said because he did. “I don’t… I’ve never deserved you, and I definitely don’t deserve Seb.”

“No…that’s not. No,” Aaron snapped at him.

“What? It’s true, Aaron.”

“It is not,” Aaron shouted. “Is that..is that what you made you able to do it?”

Robert looked down at his feet and shook his head.

He heard Aaron moving, then he felt him, hovering right in front of him, and then their hands were clasped. He shouldn’t have held Aaron’s hand back, he shouldn’t have let him thread their fingers together, but he allowed it. He let the electricity skate up his arm, the zap he always felt every bloody time Aaron touched him from the first second to the last second.

“Look at me.”

Robert looked up.

“Was that it?” he asked again.

Robert nodded.

“You idiot…” Aaron shook his head. “I knew, I knew it was letting me go because you loved me, I knew you were too stubborn for me to get to – when you were locked away but…”

“But what, you didn’t think I knew I never deserved you?”

“Fuck that,” Aaron snapped. “You do…you deserve whatever you want, Robert. You deserve our little boy, you do.”

“I left him too,” he sniffed. “I walked right away…”

“I was there right after that, I remember you crying out in your sleep, the tears…” Aaron sniffled, and his free hand wiped at his eyes. “You love him like you love me…” He paused. “You do still?”

“Always, Aaron,” Robert breathed. “Don’t know how to stop, and don’t want to learn.”

Aaron sighed.

Robert squeezed Aaron’s hand, felt that zap, and felt dizzy and hopeless. They had to let go. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

“That’s not it…” Aaron shook his head. “You’re enough. Your the only one who is enough…” He laughed. “I tried, more than once, but… I almost married someone, not Tim, but the day came, and I found myself in the garage.”

“Yeah?”

“Us, there, that day… Those vows,” Aaron sighed. “I couldn’t say them to someone else.”

“No?”

“And Tim… He thought he’d change my mind, said he was gonna wear me down…but I was honest. I told him I’d never get married again. I thought I could be with him anyway, that it’d be enough… But that wasn’t fair to him, was it? Especially after, after you and I breathed the same air again.”

“Aaron?”

Aaron squeezed his hand, and his eyes closed. “I don’t know what to do… I know what I want, I just don’t know if it’s right.”

“What?” Robert shook his head. “You can’t…”

“I can’t what?”

“You can’t want me back, Aaron. That’s…”

“What?”

“Stupid… I’m not… I’ll mess it up again, somehow.”

“No,” Aaron shook his head. “We messed it up, Robert.”

“No, I did.”

“I didn’t fight for ya,” Aaron sighed. “I should’ve. I almost did more than once, but…”

“I wouldn’t have let you try.”

“Yeah, and I let that stand. I regret it.”

“Aaron… It was fourteen years, I served most of it… I’m old.”

“You were always old,” Aaron muttered. “And you don’t look it, you look amazing…just some more lines around your eyes, but I always loved the ones already there. And I’m gray.”

“Barely,” Robert whispered, and his free hand hit Aaron’s cheek. Beard stubble against his palm, the perfect scratch, and Aaron’s gray hair was really fine and white, and you’d only notice it if the light hit them just right.  "You’re beautiful.“

"Shut up.”

“You are?” Robert smiled.

Aaron looked at him, and their gazes locked. Robert felt rocked by it harder than the first time it happened. Because he felt rocked by Aaron seeing him every single time it happened. He saw Aaron too, and Aaron’s eyes fell to his mouth for a split second, but it was enough…

Robert kissed him, and he felt like he was breathing for the first time in a decade.

~~~

Aaron sighed as Robert’s mouth landed against his own. It wasn’t a kiss, not yet. For a suspended moment, Aaron just felt like he exhaled a breath he’d been holding – for a long time – possibly since he lost Robert. He sighed, and his eyes closed, and the hand that’d taken Robert’s tightened its hold on him before his other landed on Robert’s chest, right over his heart. He felt it beating, wildly against his palm and he sighed again, he felt Robert breath slip right into his mouth and then they were kissing.

They swayed, their bodies crashing together, there was a push, and a pull and their hands let go, only for Robert’s to land behind his neck, thumb in his cheek, like their first kiss and so many that followed. Aaron grabbed at his arms, biceps that felt bigger than he remembered, and he frowned about why – there was only so much to do in prison. He made a sound, at remembering why Robert was gone…

Why he left…

It’d been easy to just focus on him being gone if he thought about the why it broke his heart, it made him miss him, it made him fight himself about allowing the time and space between them.

They’d never fell out of love.

Robert never did anything wrong.

He heard voices in his head that were his mum’s, Paddy’s, Cain’s… Talking about murder, but he shook his head. Because Robert had ended a monster, a real true life monster. He dug his hands into Robert’s arms and allowed himself to fall deeper into the kiss.  

It was Robert, he inhaled and smelled him and felt it settle into him and over him, he pulled at him wanting him closer, wanting to feel the heat of his skin and see if remembered what his skin felt like… He was yanking and pulling, he felt himself losing his hi-vis vest, and he was on top of a desk, Jimmy’s he thought idly, but then his eyes fell on freckled skin…

He pulled more buttons apart and ran his hands up Robert’s chest and counted his favorite spray of freckles that were between his nipples. He pressed forward and kissed him there. Robert made a noise, both whimper and moan, and he did it again. Missed him making sounds like that, missed every fucking thing about him.  

It overwhelmed him, and he was pulling back and looking up. He was on the desk, and Robert was standing between his legs, he felt large and looming over him. Aaron felt his insides curl, and he realized he was crying, just as Robert’s thumbs caught his tears. He looked at Robert’s face and saw his own chin, wobbling in that way it did, the way Aaron knew Robert hated.  

Robert let out a deep shuddering breath, and their foreheads smacked together, Robert curled down over him and Aaron looking up, his legs around his waist – he thought he should move them but he couldn’t. He took a few breathes and tried to find words.

“Aaron?” Robert breathed his name, and it sounded to reverent.

“It’s just me,” he said.

“But it’s not…” Robert whispered. “It’s like you said. We have to consider Seb.”

Aaron nodded.

“I want you…” Robert’s voice was deep. “But I can’t if it’s not going to be…”

“Forever?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish I could make grand promises, I could make them sound believable.”

Aaron laughed.

“I love you, I’ll always love you but…”

“You do, though,” Aaron sighed and moved just enough to lean back, grab Robert’s face and stare at him. “You deserve what you want, you deserve happy Robert.”

“I destroy.”

“Tell Jack to shut up,” Aaron spat.

Robert’s mouth clicked closed.

Aaron sighed, and the guilt ate him. “I let myself pretend you really left me.”

“I did.”

“No. You let me go…” His voice broke. “You loved me, and you let me go… And I let you do it.”

“I thought it was a lifetime, Aaron.”

“But, your home…” Aaron sighed. “And I never, I never found anything close.”

Robert sighed.

“You’ve always said no one comes close…” Aaron sniffed.

“They don’t, no one could…”

“Same, Robert…” Aaron sighed. “Why do you think I broke up with Tim?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want too…”

“What?”

“Hope?”

Aaron laughed. “It’s scary, it is… You’ve terrified me from the first second I touched ya…”

Robert laughed.

“I shoved you against that wall, remember… Told you right off for being a smug arse.”

“I remember.”

“But I had ya there, against that wall and I just wanted… I wanted ya, Robert, and it scared me. You scare me, I know you, I know what we have…and…” Aaron stared into Robert’s eyes, the color of a tropical ocean, full of tears, and he blinked. Making tears fall from his own eyes, he remembered drowning in a car and knowing he couldn’t live with it if Robert went with him…

But Robert would’ve in a heartbeat.

It was scary.

It wasn’t normal.

But nothing about his life ever was….

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

Robert nodded, and Aaron saw the same fear in his eyes.

“But…”

“Aaron, don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do, though, don’t I, I always mean it… It’s you. I’ll always choose you.”

Robert smiled. “Aaron?”

“We belong together.”

“But…”

“We risk it,” Aaron lunged forward and kissed him, again and again, and spoke between the press of their lips. “We risk it, for us, for Seb… We won’t be happy apart, it won’t work, Robert, you know it… You know.”

“I know,” Robert whispered into his mouth.  

“I love ya,” Aaron smiled.

“Always,” Robert whispered.

“I need ya…” They whispered in unison as they pulled and yanked at the rest of their clothes, remembering how to touch each other just right. Aaron realized he never really forgot the taste of Robert’s skin – it was a craving he’d never been able to sate.

Their intimacy was their own and it blew anything else he’d ever felt out of the water – because no one ever came close despite the lies he told himself. He panted into Robert’s neck and let him hold him as he came apart.

And Robert shook his arms, and he felt tears against his shoulder. He had his fingers in Robert’s hair and into his scalp. “It’s alright.”

“I just… Thought I’d lost you forever.”

“Never.”

Robert breathed. “Might have to prove it a few times,” but he laughed and their eyes locked. Robert winked, and it made a tear fall, Aaron pressed forward and kissed it off his cheek.

“I’ll prove it.”

Robert kissed his forehead, and Aaron felt himself cry. It was relief though and a bit of fear but knew he’d made the right choice. Robert was always his right choice. They fit together too well, they were…

“You’re my soulmate,’ Robert breathed, lips pressing the skin of his forehead again.

"I know,” Aaron whispered, buried his face into Robert’s chest. The only place he’d ever felt complete safety.  

“Now what?” Robert asked after a few minutes.

“We get dressed… It’s bloody cold in here.”

Robert laughed, and reluctantly they moved apart and slipped back into their clothes, stealing glances, and Aaron felt younger than he had in years. He felt a bit giddy and grinned, and then he laughed loudly.

“What?”

“Valentine’s Day is one of our anniversaries now.”

Robert scoffed. “Why don’t we just make it all of February.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” He smiled.

Aaron knew he meant it too. “Come home? Tonight?”

Robert smiled. “Are you…”

“Of course, I’m sure…” Aaron smiled, and old memory flashed in his mind, of Robert on other February day, pulling two rings out of a wallet.

“Aaron?” Robert protested as Aaron moved out of his reach.

He found the safe and hurried over to it and turned the combination. He looked through the papers and things inside for the specific large blue envelope he’d put them in and found it. He pulled it out and turned toward Robert. “I had to keep them safe.”

“Aaron?”

He opened the envelope and pulled out a watch and two rings.

Robert’s mouth fell open.

“I was going to give this to Seb, like you wanted, on his eighteenth – now you can, and you could…”

“Aaron?” Robert licked his lips.

“I love you,” Aaron said. “I want this…” he stepped forward and took the cheap watch off of Robert’s wrist and snapped their watch back around his wrist where it belonged. Then he grabbed his left hand and held up one of the rings?

Robert nodded.

“Marry me again?” Aaron laughed as he slipped it on his finger.

“God, yes…I love you,” Robert smiled, and he took the other ring from Aaron, took Aaron’s hand and slipped it onto his finger. In that second, Aaron felt himself become whole again.

“Soon,” they both whispered.

They kissed, and Aaron whimpered when Robert broke it.

“We should go tell Seb,” he said.

“Give him a right big head.”

“Say he deserves it… He’s pretty brilliant. One his first schemes, and it’s worked.”

Aaron laughed. “He gets that from me.”

[fic-xation]

First of Many

During a night of cards at the Inventory, Sam recounts the events leading up to his and Max’s first wedding.

Archive

“Soooo... Can I ask you guys a question?"

Brock and Ash exchanged an eye roll.

Claptrap ALWAYS seemed to have a question in regards to Sam and Max.

"Shoot." Sam said with a shrug, tossing a pair of chips towards the center. He never minded the little unicycle-dumpster-fire's innate lack of tact. In fact, he found a lot of Claptrap's mannerisms similar to Max's. The high-pitched voice, the manic eccentricity, the endearing vulgarity...

'... God Lord, do I have a type?' he suddenly thought.

"... What exactly ARE you guys?" Claptrap asked, his processed voice cutting through Sam's somewhat horrific epiphany. Sam, giving his head a stirring little shake, looked towards Claptrap curiously.

"... Like... our species?" he paused, before shrugging. "Well, as far as I know, I'm just your run-of-the-mill anthropomorphic Irish Greyhound. Max, on the other hand-"

"No, no." Claptrap gave his claw dismissively. "I mean, like, your relationship. Are you guys just friends, or dating, or nerf-buddies, or...?" he trailed off, visibly cowering under Brock's disapproving glare.

"Knock it off, Johnny Five, that ain't our business to know."

Claptrap's light flared up almost at once.

"Oh-!" he seethed. "Don't go givin' me that 'holier-than-thou' crap!" Angrily, his lens flitted between Brock and Ash. "We were ALL thinkin' it!"

Sam's brows shot up.

"... Really? ALL of you? ... Even GlaDOS?" he gestured towards the ceiling, and, as if on cue, the ivory skeletal frame of the Aperture AI lowered herself to the table.

"~Quite frankly, I don't really care one way or another.~" she chimed, her yellow sensor unnervingly affixed to Sam's face. "~But even I have to admit, you fail to follow the standard routine of a normal mammalian courtship... But then again, you two are not normal mammals, so I suppose it's just as well...~"

And with one graceful bow, she slid back up towards the ceiling.

"... Gee-" Max said, at long last looking over from his usual booth. "I didn't realize our personal life was such a hot button issue."

Ash leaned back against his chair with a sigh. "... Well, can ya blame us? You two are about as inseparable as me n' my chainsaw. Ordinarily, I'd just say you were real good buddies, but..." he shrugged. "I dunno, it's hard to tell with you whackos."

Sam, somewhat hot under the collar, readjusted his tie.

"... Well, since the whole room seems compelled to put me on the spot, I may as well say it." He glanced over his shoulder, briefly sharing a reaffirming smile with Max. "... Max and I are recently divorced."

... If if it weren't for the soft ambience of smooth jazz, one could've heard a pin drop.

Finally, after a prolonged moment of flabbergasted stares, Brock was the first to speak, carefully keeping his eyes to the minuscule font of his cigarette pack.

"... I'm, uh... I'm sor-"

"WHAT THE #@*&?!" Claptrap screeched, standing up against his wheel. "YOU TWO WERE MARRIED?! LIKE... LEGALLY?! IN FRONT OF GOD?! ... AND THEN YOU JUST... BROKE UP?! BUT YOU'RE STILL FRIENDS?! ... Not to indulge in a harmful stereotype towards robots, but... DOES NOT COMPUTE, MAN! DOES. NOT. FREAKIN'. COMPUTE!"

He then fell back against his chair, his servos evidently spinning.

"... Subtle." Ash quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast. Sam, however, looked confused.

"Broke up? ... What're you talking about? Max and I haven't broken up; we're just as in love now as we've ever been."

"We're just not married." Max continued, hopping up onto Sam's lap. He'd ultimately grown bored at listening in from a distance. Besides, these bozos were finally discussing a worthwhile subject... Him and Sam!

Now it was the table's turn to look confused. Once again, Brock's voice came first.

"... Okaaaaay, ya lost me."

"It's not that complicated, really." Sam said, offering the trio a bemused little smile. "See, every so often, Max and I get a divorce just so we can experience the pleasure of marrying each other all over again."

"Like buyin' a new pair of shoes once the old ones wear out!" Max piped up.

"Or, at least, that's what we ASSUME buying shoes is like." Sam added, helping himself to a sip of root beer.

Another bewildered silence fell over the room.

"... Wait, so-" Ash leaned his elbows against his table, pointedly staring towards the odd couple. "... Exactly how often does this happen?"

"Oh, we're on marriage number twelve now, actually." Sam beamed, seemingly oblivious to the stupefied silence over the remaining players.

Claptrap's lens fidgeted uneasily. "... That's like... romantic, bordering on masochism..."

"Ro-Masochism." Ash offered.

"... Okay, so-" Brock smothered the end of his cigarette against an ash tray. "I can understand wantin' to marry the same person over and over again-"

"Really?" Claptrap glanced over.

"... Well, not really, but I can humor 'em." he shrugged. "... No, what I don't get is, why go to all that trouble? ... Repeatedly, no less. I mean... wouldn't it be easier just to renew your vows and leave it at that?"

"Yeah, we don't believe in that baloney." Max scoffed, folding up Sam's cards into an origami swan. "I mean, what's the point in setting up a fake wedding if you're ALREADY married? It's a total sham."

"A disgrace to the sacred institute." Sam added solemnly.

"Here-Here!" Max proclaimed, shooting the paper swan towards Ash. He caught it almost at once, crushing it between his metallic fist, and dropping it to the floor.

"... Well, I guess I fold." Sam said, scratching his ear. "Pun not intended, of course."

Max rolled his eyes. "Liar."

"So... wait-" Ash held up his hand, drawing the conversation back on track. "Just how the hell can you n' Thumper afford eleven consecutive weddings? I'll admit, my experience with this sorta thing is limited-"

"Yeah-!" Claptrap broke in. "His last fiance wasn't exactly top-shelf material!"

"... In ANY case-" Ash continued through gritted teeth, as Brock slammed his steely fist against the robot's flat top. "Doesn't all that ceremony get pretty expensive after a while?"

"Not at all," Sam said, watching as Claptrap clattered to the floor like an oversized soup can. "Ya just gotta know how to economize."

"We're good friends with the president," Max said, absentmindedly picking at his nose. "And I'M a registered Minister, according to Nebraska. So, we never have to bother with hiring an officiant."

"Not to mention, we get most of our essentials from Bingo's Birthday Bonanza." Sam added. "Balloons, cups, goodies bags-"

"And of COURSE, the cake!" Max bounced a little at the thought. "Last year, it had a dinosaur motif. THIS time, though, I'm thinkin' more... Race car. What do YOU think, Sam?"

"Can't think of a reason NOT to," Sam smiled, tenderly setting his hand between Max's ears.

Brock scratched at his nose. "... So, basically, this whole routine is just an excuse to throw multiple parties in which you two knuckleheads are the centerpiece."

Sam and Max exchanged a look.

"More or less," Sam shrugged.

"Isn't that just a wedding is, though?" Max asked.

Brock had no choice but to chuckle, shaking his head lightly. "Touche."

"Ooh!" piped Claptrap, as he awkwardly clambered back onto his chair. "Here's a question for ya! You two got this whole crazy-train system down to a science... but what about your first run-through, huh? How'd THAT go down?"

"... What, our first wedding, you mean?" Sam asked, a little surprised.

"Hey, yeah!" Ash nodded. "Knowin' you two, that must've been nuts..."

"More importantly, who asked first?" Brock shot Sam a slight smirk. "My money's on ol' Rover Romeo over here."

Sam suddenly gave an embarrassed sort of laugh, shyly averting the table's curious eyes as he turned his muzzle to the side.

"... Well, it's, uh... It's actually a funny story..."

"Oh!" Max clapped his hands together excitedly, glancing up towards Sam. "Can I tell 'em, Sam? Can I, can I, can I?"

Sam paused, before easing back against his chair with a soft smile.

"Sure, buddy. Knock yourself out."

Squealing in delight, Max took to the center of the table, clearing his throat theatrically.

"... Well... it all began on a dark and stormy night..."

 ~~

The rain lashed the ancient cobblestones of our victorian manor like the cruel tongue of an unforgiving governess. I, clad in nothing more than my scandalously sheer negligee, sat alone in my bed chamber, coyly plucking at my harp like a fluffy siren of yore. There was a CRASH of lightning, when suddenly, my door FLEW open with enough force to rattle the chandelier! I gasped, retreating to my bedspread in an effort to save my modesty, but Sam strolled in all the same, beads of rain still fresh against his unkempt fur.

"Max-!" he cried. "I can't STAND it any longer! Your tender touch, your delicate fur, and the THROBBING of your MASSIVE-"

~~

Sam's hat came down like a burlap sack over Max's head, silencing him almost at once.

"... You'll have to forgive my associate." Sam mumbled, shades of red visibly peering through his fur as he dragged Max back towards his lap. "... He, uh... He's been taking some creative writing classes as of late."

"No kidding!" Claptrap announced, ever the enthusiast. "If I had a stomach, I'd be barfing it inside out!"

"... Yeah, that was..." Ash squirmed slightly.

"Gross." Brock concluded.

"... I was gonna say HEART, in case anyone was wondering!" Max shouted, slightly muffled through the material of Sam's stretched-out cap. "... Sheesh, people, get your minds outta the gutter!"

"How's about you let ME tell the story, buddy?" Sam said gently, finally freeing Max from the hat's pincer grip. He gasped for air only once, before shrugging.

"Eh, works for me. That was only a first draft, anyway."

"Much obliged." Sam turned to address the table. "So! You gentlemen ready to enter a proper flashback?"

"Hold it-" Brock held up a hand, stone faced. "Will there be any mention of the word 'negligee?'"

"... Not that I can recall." Sam said, quite honestly.

"Alright then." Brock lit the end of his cigarette. "Continue."

"... Well-" Sam gave the ceiling a ponderous glance, leaning his chair against its back two legs. "... I suppose the the REAL story starts with us cowering behind a tire pile in the city dump."

"And we're startin' off strong!" Max grinned.

~~ "I can't believe that innocent toxic waste mutated New York's over abundance of garbage into a monsterous, (yet vaguely effeminate,) shape!" Sam exclaimed, checking his gun for any remaining ammo.

"Ooh, lovely exposition Sam!" Max said,  his back to the rubber wheeled wall. "I just can't believe she wants ME to be her King of Crap! ... Why ME of all people?

"Could be your smell," Sam proposed, cocking the cylinder back into place. "Second only to her, you're the foulest thing in New York."

"... Saaa-aaam..." giggled Max, coyly cupping his hands to his face. "How am I suppose to concentrate on a life or death situation if you keep flirtin' with me?"

Sam felt himself flush slightly.

Why were Max's obvious jokes beginning to rub him the wrong way?

Suddenly, Max's ears began to twitch. Dropping the act, he hurriedly peered out from behind the mountain of discarded tires.

"She's comin' back!" he hissed.

Instinctively, Sam threw his arm around the rabbit as if shielding him from a bomb, and the two promptly ducked.

The putrid air of the city dump was suddenly made even worse, as the mucilaginous form of the twelve-foot garbage wench (or 'beldump,' as Max'd taken to calling her,) slithered by like a slug. She then paused, raising her misshapen head, as her divot-nostrils curiously flexed at the air.

Wordlessly, Sam threw both arms around Max, drawing him to his core as if suddenly desperate for a hug. Max, more than surprised, was thrown against his partner's chest like a ragdoll.

... His sensitive ears picked up the heavy hammer of Sam's distressed pulse, while the full weight of his heavy arms squeezed against Max's back...

Max, in spite of his best efforts, felt an odd warmth rise against his cheeks.

The beldump, with a disappointed sort of grumble, soon began to meander away.

Sam sighed, slowly loosening his grip on Max.

"... S-sorry..." he breathed, wiping at his forehead. "... I, uh... I had to hide your scent-"

"G-gee, Sam-!" Max broke in, smiling frantically. "... i-if ya wanted to cuddle, all ya had to do was ask!"

He laughed, though it was a far cry from his typical mischievous titter.

Sam's brow furrowed. "... Are you blushing?"

Max's ears shot up like corn stalks.

"... N-no!" he seethed, suddenly anxious to get away. "... It's... it's your stupid cologne! ... It's givin' me a rash!"

'Funny, considering I don't even WEAR cologne,' Sam was about to point out, when an idea suddenly came to mind. He quickly began to loosen his tie, before slipping off his jacket

Max's "rash" only worsened. "S-Sam, what're you- oof!"

Sam slapped his hat between Max's ears.

"This'll mask your smell." he said, affixing his loose-fitting tie to Max's throat. "Or, at the very least, it'll buy me some time to lure the beldump away."

He gently drew his jacket around Max's shoulders like a blanket, before plucking out a small tuft of fur. Max winced.

"Hey!"

"This should be adequate bait."

Gently holding the lock between his fingers, Sam stood up, and carefully surveyed the landscape.

"... Okay, lil' buddy. You just hunker down here 'till I get back."

Max's face suddenly dawned with distraught realization.

"... You're leaving me?"

Sam looked down. Underneath all that bulky clothing, Max suddenly appeared so much smaller. Any other time, that might've been amusing, but now...

It just broke Sam's heart.

"Only for a minute." Taking a knee, Sam offered his gentlest smile, in spite of Max stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. "Just long enough to draw her into the city."

Max, however, kept his eyes to the dirt, practically pouting.

Sam sighed. He knew what that expression meant. They'd made a unspoken agreement never to be separated for too long. Not after... well... everything that'd happened recently...

In a rare moment of tactile tenderness, Sam curled a finger beneath Max's chin, guiding his gaze upward.

"... I PROMISE I'll come back." he said softly, practically a whisper. Cupping it with a chuckle, he added, "After all, I got YOU to come back to, right?"

Max said nothing... He simply stared, as slack-jawed as a blind man seeing color for the first time.

... If this were a movie, the sacrificial hero might've planted a peck against his lover's forehead, either as reassurance, or goodbye.

But this wasn't a movie... And Max certainly wasn't his lover.

Compromising, Sam sweetly scratched at Max's drooped ear, before standing back up. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he made to run, when all at once, he felt Max scaling up the front of his shirt like an anxious reptile.

"Marry me." he said stoutly, looking positively fevered.

Sam scowled. He'd had his fill of cheap jokes for the evening. "... Max, c'mon, don't-"

"I'm not kidding," he croaked, his hands grasping at Sam's collar for support. "Please, Sam... marry me. Like... right now. I don't wanna be with anyone else. I don't think I CAN be with anyone else. Losing you the first time was..." he broke off, trails of tears and snot running down his face. "... Well, it sucked. Like, a lot." he finally choked. "... But the worst part was...  I finally realized just how crazy I was about you... But you were dead!"

He then began to laugh, but something in it made Sam cringe... It was a high, unsettling, hysterical laugh... Different from his usual variety, anyway.

There was no joy in it.

"Isn't that hilarious?" he continued. "And what's even funnier? ... I actually got a second chance to tell you how I felt... and I STILL chickened out! And now you're leaving me AGAIN, and... and..." he quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter and sobs, clinging to Sam's shirt with no intention of letting go.

... Needless to say, Sam was more than shocked... The same three shrieking words seemed to reverberate against his addled brain.

... How I felt... How I felt... How I felt...

... Funny. He wasn't nearly as shocked as one would think. If anything, Sam felt a kind of... serenity settle over him.

He'd known it, without knowing it...

... Max loved him... Max'd loved him for a good while now...

Of course he did... Of course he did! It was too damn obvious! It practically went without saying! And... and...

'... Holy hotpot party hosted by a Hostess Hoho...' thought Sam. '... I think I might love him back.'

"Officiate."

Max looked up, his face a mess of varying fluids. "... W... what?"

"You're a high priest, remember?"

Sam then flinched. Of course Max wouldn't remember, HE never experienced that.

".... N-no...?" he sniffled hesitantly. "... But I AM a registered minister, according to Nebraska."

Sam smiled, briefly relieved, before glancing around. Spotting a rubber band off to the side, he snatched it up, before twining it around the middle finger of Max's left hand.

"If you think I wouldn't want marry you, right here and now, you're even crazier than I thought."

Prying Max from his shirt, Sam set him down, and took both hands.

"Don't even bother asking anything," he said quickly, smiling a little. It was one of the few instances Max was ever lost for words. "You already know I do. I do a thousands times over, and twice on Sundays; never to anyone else but you."

"... D-ditto.." Max said at last, grinning incredulously. "... Th-then... I guess... b-by the power vested in me by the state of Nebraska, I now pronounce us-"

He didn't even have time to finish the sentence before he and Sam began to kiss.

It was the kiss of a thousand unsaid longings, the kiss of sweet, relinquished grief. It was cathartic, practically euphoric- 

~~

"- and the first of many to come." Sam concluded, beaming towards the wide-eyed faces of the Inventory regulars.

Ash huffed a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "So you two professed your love, got engaged, and then married, all within the span of a few short minutes..."

"In the middle of a stinky landfill, no less!" Claptrap added.

"Just for the record-!" Max said quickly. "Sam was TOTALLY exaggerating my little proposal. I was doing doughnuts on a tricked-out motorcycle, and tossed him a ring made out of pure gold. It was the smoothest thing in the world, and I did NOT cry!"

"~Max's temperature seems to be rising at an alarming rate.~" GladOS's voice rolled out coolly. "~Perhaps he is suffering another rash outbreak?~"

The table broke into a bout of good-natured laughter, as Max folded his arms grumpily. He already knew he'd never hear the end of that...

"So whatever happened to the garbage monster?" Brock asked, still smiling.

"Oh, that-" Sam waved his hand dismissively. "That was easy. Using the scent of Max's hair, I lead her back to our office. Once there, she immediately fell in love with the trash congregating in our workspace, and took that as her husband rather than Max."

"They then moved to Detroit to live among their own kind!" Max sighed, fluttering his eyelids. "It was like the ending to a fairytale..."

"Yeah, that's... one way of putting it." Ash mumbled.

"And how long was it before ya decided to get re-married? Claptrap asked.

"Three days." Sam answered, leaning forward to dig through his pocket. Fishing out his wallet, he opened it up to reveal a small photo guarded by a sheet of plastic. "We knew we wanted our second wedding to be a lil' more formal, so we pulled out all the stops." he pointed towards the lavish church setting, as well as Max's uncharacteristically grandiose top hat and tux.

"... Nice dress," Brock remarked with a sneer.

"I know, I know..." Sam smiled sheepishly. "It's a little old-fashioned, but it belonged to my Granny, and she insisted on me wearing it."

"Plus, she n' Sam have the same cuddly corpulent build, so it was an easy fit!" Max chimed in. Sam, rolling his eyes, pushed him to the floor.

"Well-" Brock raised his glass. "Cheers to your divorce, I suppose."

"And may many more follow!" Ash said, joining the toast.

Claptrap, however, remained motionless.

"... Does it bother anyone that the six of us guys just spent the last half-hour discussing marriage and weddings like an old sewing-circle?"

The table traded looks.

"Not really."

"No."

"Not even remotely!"

"'Course not."

"... Alright, just checking!" Claptrap held up his sippy-cup. "To Sam and Max!"

"To Sam and Max!"

~~

"Ya know-" Sam said, as he and Max barreled along their the long stretch of their familiar street. It was a perfect night for reckless driving. "We oughta invite our poker buddies to our next wedding."

"Oh, HELL yeah!" Max said, nodding vigorously. "It wouldn't be a dream wedding without 'em! Ooh-!" he grabbed at Sam's arm, nearly swerving the Desoto into an oncoming truck. Sam pivoted back almost at once, heart thudding, but smiling all the same.

"Think we could get GladOS to sing at our reception?" Max bobbed excitedly against his seat. "I would, and CAN, kill for her to do Nat King Cole!"

"We'll havta ask next time we see her, buddy." Sam chuckled, sparing a hand to pet at Max's head. "Though, personally, I wouldn't mind meetin' some of YOUR old card sharks... 'Specially that wrestler fellow, uh... What was his name?" Sam snapped his fingers rhythmically. "String bean?"

"Strong Bad. But PLEASE, call him String Bean once you finally get to meet him!" Max giggled. "I have GOT to see how that goes down."

Sharply rounding a corner, the two finally skidded their car into its usual spot, halfway hunched atop the curb adjacent to their building.

Making their way up the stairs, they soon found themselves in the comfortable chaos of their office. (Naturally, it didn't them long to re-accumulate all the garbage swept away by the beldump.)

"Well, that depends-" Max shrugged, as he and Sam crossed into one of the more residential rooms. Flopping down onto the patchwork couch, Max made an immediate snag for the remote. "When're you gonna propose already?"

"Guess I'm just waiting for the right occasion. Timing is everything, ya know. Here, scooch over."

With a sigh, Sam helped himself to a seat beside Max, and the two finally settled on something to watch.

"Ooh! Robot Terror From Beyond the Galaxy!" Max curled up against Sam's leg, and Sam, smiling contentedly, rested a hand to his back.

"Hope we haven't missed too much."

"Nah," Max shook his head. "We haven't even gotten to the marrow-suckers yet."

Sam nodded, and then glanced over. His partner's eyes were beginning to droop, and Sam wondered whether or not Max was about to fall asleep.

"... Hey, Max-" Sam whispered, lightly jostling the lagomorph's head. "... You wanna get married?"

Max chuckled, tucking his hands beneath his head as his eyes closed in full.

"... Well, DUH, Sam... A thousand-" he cut himself off with a yawn. "... A thousand times over, and twice on Sundays..."

Sam, with a warm smile, leaned over, planting a soft kiss to Max's forehead.

"You're the light of my life, lil' buddy."

[louintine4eva]

A Touch of Superstition

Summery: Whilst Clem and Louis look up at the stars Louis remembers about another deck of cards he owns.

Not an AU, set a year into their relationship.

Word count: 2181

It had been roughly a year since Clem had told Louis she like-liked him and made it official by 'tattooing the piano'. Now here they were Clem's head snuggled into Louis' defined chest as they gazed at the dark blanket above, sprinkled with gold glitter.

One of Louis favourite thing to do was to star gaze. The sky didn't show a hint of the dying world beneath it.

"Do you believe in aliens?" He asked her with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Um, never really gave it much thought..."

"Well think about it, do you think there could be life beyond our planet?"

".. it would be pretty ignorant if I said were the only life force out there..."

"Yeah I believe in them too!"

"You know you don't have to copy me in every way."

"Hey! It's not coping! We're kindled spirits, were perfectly aligned and have the exact same interests." He intertwined their fingers for dramatic affect.

"Or, I intimidate you and your scared to disagree?"

"Oh shush." He chuckled.

They basked in silence for a couple minutes.

Louis gently began to twiddle Clem's curly locks between his index finger and thumb. She would never admit it to him as she didn't want to boost his already huge ego, but she adored it when he would play with her hair. Nothing else can relax her or calm her down like that.

"How about superstition?"

"Hmm?" His words had pulled her out a brief slumber, causing her to lack motivation in a reply.

"Do you belief in ghosts? Or prediction of the future? Fortune telling?"

"No."

"Why?" He questioned a little taken aback.

"Do you?" Louis hesitated. He didn't want to answer her. His answer seemed silly and made him feel like a kid.

"If you do you, know I'm not gonna judge you Lou." Guilt was dripping with every word. She squeezed his hand in hers for confirmation.

After being together for a year, she could tell when he was being off. It seemed like Louis didn't just believe in it, it was apart of his mysterious side. What she said next maybe the key to unlocking one of his hidden secrets. Things that he wouldn't usually tell her.

He sat up. "Wait here I'll be right back"

Before she could question, or even refuse, she was alone on the roof.

Instantly missing the warm that radiated from the boy who was previously beside her.

Her wait was luckily no more than a couple of minutes, he was already rejoining her, holding a little silky purple bag.

He sat down crossed legged in front of her, so she mirrors his stature, as the nervousness pools in her stomach. What was he up to? She thought.

From the small mysterious satchel he delicately retrieve a deck of cards in surprisingly beautiful condition.

They were not cards Clem had seen before. Finally he spoke up in a more serious voice.

"My family, on my mothers side were gypsies. He have a tradition on passing these down." There was something oddly mature with how he was going about this topic, something she had very rarely seen.

"What are they?" She asked with a muster of wonder and confusion crossing her face.

"Tarot cards."

The words danced around in the girls head. She had briefly heard of them before but didn't really know what they were.

"My Dad hated them," he continued. "Said they were fake and just a way to steal money from the grieving and gullible. This really upset my mom and grammy, but my dad was rich and of high status, something my mom needed at the time, as she was escaping a bad past. So they kept the cards, as well as their beliefs away from him...

When my mum was helping me pack to come here she must have hidden it them in my suitcase. At first I thought she accidentally put them there, until I saw a note on the back of the 'The Fool' card." He stopped as his voice became shaky.

She gestured forward about to put a reassuring hand on his, but he moved away. The hand was tightly holding onto the perplexing pack.

Hurt and confusion settled on her pretty face.

"Another part of our tradition is we don't let anyone touch the cards. It puts unwanted energy in them." The pained look didn't leave her features.

He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her nose before giving her a warm smile. This washed away her negative feelings, immediately she returned the smile and was ready to continue listening.

She saw him hesitate to proceed with his story before asking.

"Want me to do a reading on you?"

She was shocked to say the least.

"Can you do that?" She didn't mean to sound disbelieving but that was the tone she gave off.

"I'm a little rusty. Luckily my mum put in a book on what the basic concept of each card. Usually we're supposed to say our initiative on what we think the card means, or what we think it's trying to tell us, but I'm sure the great powers of above won't mind me using the book."

"Okay," she chuckled at his return to a sillier state.

"What do we do."

"Well, seen as you've never done this before, and frankly neither have I really, we'll just do a three card spread. A past, present, and future reading."

She nodded her head and Louis looked down at the cards.

"What's your favourite number?"

"Umm.."

"Don't say you don't have one."

"Okay... 7"

He began to shuffle the cards between his hands at a total of seven times.

"Pick a number between 1 and 78,"

She thought for a second, resting a hand on her chin for added effect.

"Preferably the first number that comes to mind." He instructed.

"Twelve."

He moved to the twelfth card in the deck and slowly put in between them.

"Next?"

"Thirty-three" She said with an uncertainty.

He put the second card down to the right of the first one.

"And finally?"

"Sixty-nine." He paused and looked up at her with a straight expression with one brow raised as if to say really?

"What?" She couldn't keep in the giggle and they both burst out laughing.

"We're so immature..." he said with a smile still dancing on his freckled features as he shuffled through the deck to that card, placing it next to the previous two.

He put the remaining cards back into the silky bag.

She watched his moves carefully, he worked so gracefully when handling them. She could tell it came naturally to him.

"Ready?" He questioned, admittedly soundly a little nervous himself. Regardless she responded with an somewhat emphatic nod.

His calloused hands flipped over the first card.

Clem could feel her heart jump into her throat.

It was the 'Death' card.

"Don't be alarmed, which I can see you are. This is the past card. Also may I add it isn't directly about death.. no more like the finishing of a cycle in your life."

"Really? What does the book say?" She asked concerned, not immediately trusting his judgement of the seeming morbid card before her.

He retrieved the book from under the purple bag and gently flipped through the old browning pages.

"With loss something new can begin. Death carries a scythe not just to destroy but to sow the next harvest. This card is about sacrificing part of ones self in order to move on."

"... what does it mean?"

"Well, I think it's the end of you.. being alone. The end of your suffering. You've made sacrifices.. you've killed people, but that's all over now. Your safe. You've got me" He tilted her chin up towards his when he said the last part, inviting her to make eye contact with him.

Her heart filled with warmth at his words. She thought she might cry, not necessarily of sadness, but of how well it did describe her... and the fact he said that she had him. Things like that meant a lot nowadays, especially to her. She gave him a short but passionate kiss before swallowing back the tears that threatened to escape.

He gaze returned back down towards the cards as he proceeded to now turn over the one in the middle, the card that represented the present.

It was 'The Star' quite fitting, Clem thought, considering they had just been star gazing... and it was that event which lead them to the cards.

"The star.. one of my favourites." He admitted. She remained silent as a cue for him to continue. He opened the book and read out its description.

"The star suggests the possibility for rebirth, rejuvenation and overall - hope. It is a phase in which one has has trust in oneself and the universe around them."

Clem studied the card, desperately wanting to hold it and to get a better look at the illustration. The art work on it was beautiful to say the least.

"Finally, the future card." He interrupted her admiration by turning over the final card... 'The Lovers'

"Woah..." Louis exclaimed sounding utmost surprised himself, and a little breathless.

"Maybe... this is real" he muttered his thoughts out loud.

Regardless of how obvious the message this card was, Louis still opened the book to the corresponding page in order to get an accurate reading. With confidence he spoke slowly:

"A union of harmony, full of trust, confidence and strength. This relationship is one that represents both a physical attraction and a deep emotional bond between them." He briefly paused and made eye contact with the girl opposite him. A million things going through both of their minds.

"It can also represent an inner harmony between two aspects of ones personality: anima and animus, yin and yang and so forth.

This card should not be taken lightly, the relationship indicated will be one to last." He dropped the card just in time as Clem leaped forward into a tight embrace with the freckled mess in front of her, knocking Louis back.

She had tears coming out her eyes and dripping onto his shoulder.

"I love you so much Lou!"

"Oh my god I love you too." He sobbed as he tightened the embrace.

She pulled back enough for him to crash his lips into hers, to ignite a passionate kiss, full of love and wet from the tears that still streamed down Clem's face. She had never felt love like this before. She was warmed to the core with happiness and elation. And the best part about it? She knew he felt the exact same.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of being wrapped tightly around each other, they both collected them selves and pulled away. He looked down at the cards, and shakily picked up the lovers card.

"Here."

"What?"

"Take it."

"Louis.. I couldn't-"

"No please, I want you to have it."

He offered it forward again. She reluctantly too the card his previous statement of her not being aloud to touch the cards lingering in the back of her thoughts.

She bought the colourful card close to her face so she could get a better look at the incredibly detailed drawing. It was a man and woman smiling happily in a tight embrace. Above them was an angel on a cloud looking down at them. Watching over with a smile.

Lee?

It was the first thought that come to mind, and if Louis' rules on the cards were true, maybe this was a sign. She looked up at the stars that twinkled down at them and silently thanked whoever could be listening.

Louis had packed whatever was left away.

"Come on darling it's getting cold, we should get to bed." He said whilst offering her his hand. She quickly took it into hers as he lead them both carefully off the roof.

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

"Remember that night dear?" Louis asked as he wrapped his arms around Clem's growing belly from behind, and resting his heads on her shoulder. He noticed that she was looking down at a card with 'the lovers' written nearly in Italics at the bottom.

"How could I forget. It's the first time I had told you I loved you."

She smiled and turned on her heals planting a kiss on his chin.

"I meant it by the way." She confirmed.

"Well I would hope so." He told her with a chuckle.

"Especially with baby number two on the way." He tapped her belly lightly before beginning to rub it.

"I think I know what to call her."

"Ohh so it's a girl now?" He joked getting an eye roll from the lady in his arms

"We should call her star, in honour of that night."

"I love it."

"I love you."

"I love you most."

[keener-esme]

partition

ft: zig novak, frankie hollingsworth & esme song description: a playful night off turns into a huge shock for esme and frankie, adding another roadblock in her relationship with zig. date: april 5th location: the strip club

Esme It was still a surprise, albeit a pleasant one that Frankie had agreed to this outing, but Esme was satisfied enough not to spend another weekend home alone that she refused to acknowledge what a dumb idea it was in the first place. Truly, neither of them looked the ages inscribed on the ID's Esme had managed to get her hands on, but considering the amount of money the establishment stood to make, she wasn't worried. Deciding on one last layer of eyeliner to age herself, Esme was ready, holding Frankie's ID in front of her face. "When were you born and how do you spell your middle name?" She prompted, holding the fake away from her to make sure the records were memorized.

Frankie: Frankie was incredibly nervous about this idea, but Esme seemed excited. She wasn’t going to be the one to let her best friend down. Plus, maybe they would just be turned away at the door. She responded to the question, “M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T and I was born January 13, 1998.” She said with certainty, even if her stomach was flipping and flopping.

Esme nodded at each correct letter, hissing a happy yesss at the conclusion of the equally correct birthday. "Perfect, we're totally in," she announced, handing the card back to her. Turning to the mirror, she fluffed her tamed curls out and smoothed the hem of her dress, feeling herself. If she had to miss yet another weekend with Zig, Frankie was just as perfect company she'd need, and it wasn't as though she ever thought Zig would go with her somewhere like this. "Ready?"

Frankie: took back the ID and put it into her wallet. She still wasn't sure if this was the right idea, but if Esme was excited, there was no backing down. She was wearing the same outfit from Esme's rave party since she wasn't sure how to dress for a club like this. "I guess, I'm as ready as I'll ever be?"

Esme smiled, pleased by the timing. Nodding, she held out an arm for Frankie to accept, and soon they were en route, in line, and after a nervewrackingly long wait, inside the club. "It worked," she squealed beneath her breath once they were inside, ushering Frankie to a table up front. "A grade twelve from my old school told me about this place. I guess they have some hot new act that everyone is losing it over."

Zig had his gaze fixated on the mirror, checking out his physique to assure that everything was in place. His hands moved to adjust the decorative underwear he had recently bought— tight, sparkly, and barely enough to cover the essentials. Topped off with a fresh new pair of boots, he was quite proud of the look he chose for the night. While he only stumbled into the job by accident, he was glad to have found it now. At first, it was a bit awkward to be performing in such scanty clothing onstage in front of an audience, finding the act a little demeaning, to say the least. Now that he was more comfortable and used to the scene, it became much easier. He had even picked up a few new moves from the other guys at work. "Count! You're on in five!" The emcee called backstage, signaling that it was time for his shift to really start. He took in a deep breath, taking one last look in the mirror before standing at bay next to the stage. Peering out from behind, he took note of the decent sized crowd and hoped for a few good tippers tonight.

Frankie: followed Esme inside and joined her friend at the table. "A grade twelve came here?" She kept her voice hushed, hoping that none of the adults around would be suspect. "I wonder what the new act is like then-- I mean, we can't really compare to the old acts but..." Frankie took a shot glass off of a passing tray, knowing she could pay the tab at the end of the night. Anything to calm her nerves at this point. "What do you think he'll be like?"

Esme "Yeah, like the second she turned eighteen," she snickered, sliding into her seat. "Everyone at that school was too horny for their own good." Impressed by Frankie's initiative, Esme reached back to procure her own drink, setting it in front of herself. Scrolling through her phone, she recited the text she received. "Tall, dimples, abs, an ass that won't quit," she repeated, shrugging to Frankie. "So probably perfect," she surmised, her attention pulled towards the stage as the next act was announced.

Zig waited patiently for his cue, and finally, his introduction came. "Our next act coming to the stage is everyone's favorite newbie. He's young, he's hot, he's Russia's greatest love machine. Give it up for: The Count!" And with that, he strode across the stage and positioned himself in the spotlight, tuning out the crowd and beginning his routine. He practiced for quite some time in the mirror beforehand, and he could only pray that his hard work had paid off. It evidently did as the crowd responded with cheers and holler, flooding the stage with bills of varying value. In between his moves, he'd lean into the crowd for audience interaction, allowing a few to place their payment in the elastic of his bottoms. After the song ended, he almost felt proud of the positive reaction he got from those watching. He leaned down to collect any stray bills, and looked up once last time before exiting the stage— that's when he saw them. Two familiar faces were at the front row seats. No, it wasn't his newfound usuals that frequented his performances, but rather two of the last people he'd ever think to see there. Squinting to make out the familiar figures, his eyes widened as he locked eyes with them. For a moment, Zig was frozen in place, unsure of what to do besides collect the last of his bills and rush off the stage. How the hell was he supposed to explain his way out of this one?

Esme listened diligently, smirking at the eager description. "Russian, already my type," she teased, watching as the man stepped into place. It was amusing how much commotion he caused right off the bat, Esme sure that he must have been a fan favorite for some type based off of the reverie. "Well she was right about the ass..." She mused, craning for a better look before he turned around. It took no time for the blood to run cold, Esme's heart dropping to her feet once the male's identity was revealed, and she scrambled, all but throwing herself across the table to cover Frankie's eyes with her hand, sending the untouched shot glass to the ground, the shatter muffled by the music. "We have to go!" She screamed, her free hand grabbing at Frankie's arm to pull her from her chair, clearly horrified.

Frankie: didn't even get to see who it was past the ass. Her eyes were covered and her shot glass fell with Esme's, but at least she got to down it. "Esme! I have to see the dimples and abs! Please--" but she was already getting pulled away from the scene. "Esme, what was wrong with him? Is everything okay?"

Esme wished she had managed some of the liquid down before careening it to the floor, her heart pounding as they left the venue. "No, everything is absolutely, so ridiculously not okay," she answered, her eyes wide and the panic present in her voice. "We need to leave. Now." She demanded, her hand shaking as she requested the nearest Uber. "We just need to be... somewhere else. Anywhere else. This isn't real."

Zig began to pace around backstage, unsure of what his next move should be. He ran a finger through his damp hair and took another look at his lower region, mortified that both Esme and Frankie saw him like that. "You good? You don't look too hot, man," Another act commented as he passed by the newbie. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," He assured the other, clearly lying about his wellbeing. At the very least, he knew he couldn't leave things as they were, but at the same time, he had no desire to face them either. Nonetheless, he hurriedly threw on a pair of basketball shorts, a signature sleeveless shirt, and a pair of slides before walking out towards the floor. The lighting was a bit dim, but as he searched the venue, he couldn't find them anywhere. His next move was to look outside in hopes that he could catch them by the door. He ran outside, only to spot the two a moment later just as they were about to leave. "Wait, wait up!" He called out, managing to reach out and grab Esme's shoulder before they had a chance to make another move. "Wait," He repeated, breathless over his performance as well as his journey to get to them. "I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you." An apology was a start, he supposed. "I didn't... I couldn't tell you."

Esme It was bad enough, to say the absolute least, that she was witness herself to what had just transpired, but having to explain it away to Frankie was a different circle of hell all together, one she knew she would have to face when she heard the familiar voice calling after her. Her face skewed in anticipation, not even knowing what to say to Zig has he caught up with them. "Don't touch me,” she sighed, shaking the hand off of herself and keeping her back turned to him. " I wouldn't want to make anyone jealous, and obviously there are a lot of girls that would be." The comeback was weak, but she was still far too frazzled for creativity in the moment. "I guess dealing wasn't enough of a thrill."

Zig almost flinched at the harshness of her words, slowly pulling his hand away and worrying for the fate of the trust he had tried so hard to build with her. It was as if all of it came crashing down in a single moment. "You're not... it's not..." But he couldn't find the right words to say no matter how hard he tried. "I'm not doing this for the thrill," Though he would be lying if he said he didn't start enjoying himself a bit, "This job pays better than anything I've tried before. I'm not doing it because it's fun or exciting."

Esme told herself that no matter what, as long as she didn't cry, she'd make it through, but she was slowly losing that battle. "Right, the thrill is just a bonus." Zig was something she'd relied on for comfort as of late, so it was nothing short a struggle to flounder in need of being comforted from him now. "Ignoring how blatantly illegal it is, you lied to my face. Unless one of your costumes is a warehouse worker I guess."

Zig wasn't sure how to fix anything at this point, and feared that no combination of words would be able to reverse the damage that was already done. "I told you what I was doing was illegal, and since when do you even care about stuff like that?" Technically, he was being honest when he said that he'd never be able to work the hours and job he does if he didn't lie about his age, but that small sliver of honesty still didn't remedy the fact that he was hiding the bigger picture of it. "I'm sorry I lied. I didn't want anyone knowing I was doing this, especially you." While stripping wasn't necessarily something to be ashamed about, it wasn't a job that had much merit to it, and if his mother ever found out, she'd surely keel over and die on the spot. He had to keep it hidden for everyone's sake. It wasn't as if he planned on doing it for long, just enough to have a decent savings before trying to find a job he could truly be proud of. "But beyond the lying, all I'm really doing is dancing. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?"

Esme "It's completely different," she scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest. "There's a difference between lying for good cause and lying to hide something you realize you shouldn't be doing. Don't make this about me," she shook her head. "I care about being lied to, I don't know how else to word it for you." When things were directed to her, her sorrow shifted to anger. "You're taking your clothes off," she corrected dryly. "So what now, are you going to keep doing it?

Frankie: Frankie had frozen when Zig appeared, completely speechless. Why was he there? Then, as they argued, it started to all clicking together. Zig was one of the strippers. Zig was one of the strippers and Esme was rightfully pissed. She crossed her arms as Zig continued to explain, feeling uncomfortable that she had to be their witness. "It's honestly a pretty big deal that your underage junk is practically on display for a crowd... You know?" She really didn't want either of them directing anger towards her.

Esme cringed when Frankie finally spoke, partially from the guilt of making her their audience, and part from the too sensitive words. At least she wouldn't have to explain their hasty exit, she supposed. Glancing at her phone (and having yet to face Zig), she cursed the estimated arrival time. "Can we just walk?" She sighed, desperate for an out.

Frankie: looked at Esme concerned. Walk? It was a pretty far walk, but if she wanted out, "I mean, yeah." They could take a ride from somewhere else. New pickup point.

Zig ‘s eyes widened at the assertion, shaking his head vigorously. “What? No, I’m not getting naked for anyone. I’m literally just dancing up there... but with less clothes on.” Truthfully, it did cross his mind once or twice to start doing fully nude shows, as he knew they paid far better than what he was receiving now. The other acts were constantly telling how much better the money was doing fully nude shows, but he was almost positive that’d be considered cheating, and there was also the fact that he was underage. “I don’t know... would you not wanna be with me if I did? I’m really sorry I lied to you...”

Esme "Okay, you're taking MOST of your clothes off, my mistake!" She shouted, her hands flying up to emphasize her anger. "You had such a problem with Miles and I being friends over something that happened forever ago - sorry Frankie," she directed quickly before whipping around to finally meet his eyes. "But it's okay for you to get pawed at all night. How would you feel if I was up there?" Wringing her hands together to stay calm, she began to pace the few steps of the sidewalk. "I just - what am I supposed to do?"

Frankie: 's eyes went wide at the mention of her brother. That wasn't something she was ready for, but she could deal with that alone when she got home. "Zig, it is a bit of a double standard-- There are other ways to make money, you know. Ways that don't make your girlfriend upset?" She commented. "Es, if you want to walk, we need to start walking now... Before it gets too late?"

Zig 's own anger began to rise at the mention of Miles. "It's stripping not prostitution! You say 'something' as if you guys were playing card games together or whatever. No, you were fucking him. Repeatedly — sorry Frankie," He mimicked her lead, turning his head to face Frankie briefly before directing his attention back to Esme. It was a topic he wanted to avoid from now on, as it seemed as if he would never be able to get through to Esme on that, and it surely wasn't helping that Frankie had to chime in with her opinion as well. He couldn't blame her, as he was the one who messed up, but with both of them on his case at the same time, it became a bit frustrating to deal with. "I don't know. I never thought about it." The answer was most likely yes, of course he'd be upset if it was Esme up there, but being on the opposite end of the situation, he was beginning to realize that stripping was just like any other job— clock in, do your thing, get paid, and leave. "And she's not my girlfriend," He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing loudly. "I can't tell you what you're supposed to do," He paused for a brief moment, unsure of what Zig himself was meant to do either, "but Frankie's right. It's getting late, and I have to get back in there."

Esme rolled her eyes at the unnecessary distinction. "Lucky me, they only get to look," she droned sarcastically. The blatant statement towards Miles left her with a grimace, his sister mere feet away and certainly in earshot, and as much as she wanted to defend herself, she knew it was best to move on in her presence. "I'm not his girlfriend," she reminded at the same moment as he, though het tone wasn't quite as harsh. She had no reason not to believe he'd be heading back to the stage, but his hurry stung nonetheless. She pulled her clutch up to pop the clasp, fingering through the cash on hand and pulling out the first few. "Here's for the glass," she recited, forcing the first bill into his hands. "Here's for your breathtaking performance," adding another small stack. "Bill me for all of the freebies, I guess," she hissed, turning back to Frankie. "Uber is up the block, we can just meet him there."

Zig watched as the bills were shoved into his hands. He wanted to take care of everything there and now, but the stage called for him once more, and the manager of the club was bound to be on his case anyways for running out without giving notice. “I don’t want your damn money.” He let the money fall from his hands and onto the pavement before turning on his heels to finish off his shift. “I’m sorry.” Another apology — it seemed as if he was constantly apologizing to Esme, and it was growing to be quite tiresome no matter what the reason was. “But I don’t think I can stop. Not now, at least. I wish you guys didn’t have to find out this way but... yeah.” He was at a loss for words at that point, and was already aware that nothing he could say would fix this.

Esme could feel the tension in her body as he was beckoned back inside, knowing he wouldn't decline. She wasn't sure whether she expected him to accept the funds; they certainly weren't offered from the goodness of her heart, and his reaction wasn't as rude as she deserved, but bitter was what she knew. "Well then you'd better get back up there, Count. Lots more to be made." She ignored the last of his words, softly shaking her head and leaving him with a longing glance. "Come on, Frankie." There was no use trying to salvage the rest of the night, wordlessly walking in tandem until the girls had reached their ride, masking her humiliation the whole way back.

[armltagehux]

twelve days of reyuxmas - day twelve: free

Details about these fics and how I plan to post them to ao3 later can be found here.

A continuation of my uni au Reyux piece from days 2 (which you can read here) and 10 (which you can read here).

Though the sting had never fully worn off, of something so important to Rey as her hideous scarf being destroyed by Hux’s pet, she gradually let it go. Or rather, she pretended it didn’t bother her whenever she had to wear a different scarf when she left the flat.

It was mid-January by the time Hux had his gift for Rey ready to go, and she’d eyed him suspiciously three weeks earlier when he gave her an IOU in a card as a Christmas gift. But she’d accepted it, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she’d be receiving something from him… eventually.

But now term had started, and she didn’t have the mental capacity to think about that, because her Thermodynamics course was incredibly difficult, thank you very much. As she sat cross-legged on the sofa, trusting Hux to keep the flat quiet as she studied, Rey very nearly jumped right out of her skin when he knocked on the doorframe leading from the lounge to the hallway.

When she looked up, she noticed almost immediately that he looked a little timid — not a look Hux usually wore.

“Are you busy?” he asked.

Rey shrugged. She was, but this felt important. To signal that he could speak, Rey set aside her textbook, giving him her full attention. He took the cue and walked into the room; as he did, she noticed that he was carrying a box, neatly gift wrapped as she knew him to do so often. He was meticulous about many things, gift wrapping included.

“I gave you an IOU for Christmas and… well, it’s time.”

She eyed the gift for a moment, and then took the box slowly as he sat down next to her. Their knees brushed and her heart raced; even after months of dating, she’d never get used to the feeling. She’d always react like a giddy teenager with him.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Hux winced. “Well — open it before you thank me.”

Raising an eyebrow curiously, Rey brought the gift box to her lap and drifted her fingers over the smooth wrapping paper.

“You’re making me nervous.”

Though she usually tore through wrapping paper gleefully, like a child, the moment didn’t seem to call for that. It felt wrong. So instead, she gently slid her finger beneath the tape, unfastening it and letting the wrapping paper fall away in one big sheet. She held her breath and then pulled the lid off the box.

Inside, Rey’s eyes fell upon the colors she could see through the tissue paper, and she swore she could hear her heart thrumming in her chest. She knew what those colors were. She knew what they meant.

She set the lid aside and pulled away the tissue paper, finding it difficult to believe what she was seeing.

Somehow, Hux had managed to find an exact replica of the scarf Millicent had destroyed.

The same colors, the same tassels, the same stripes… though it hadn’t come from her grandmother, the memories were still there, and… “You hated that scarf.”

“But you loved it, and that matters more.”

Rey drifted her hand over the yarn. It was still soft and smooth; she’d have to wear it a lot to get the coarse, comforting feeling that the old scarf had had. She liked the thought of that, though. Of the disdainful, odd looks she’d get from Hux, of his playful sneers where he said he didn’t want to be seen with her in public when she wore it, but he’d go through with it anyway.

“This is amazing! I — thank you.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay? I know the other one held… sentimental value. This is just some replica, but…”

“How did you even get it? I thought my grandmother made it…”

“I think she did,” Hux replied honestly. “But I was able to find someone on Etsy who was willing to do a replica. I sent her pieces of yarn I gathered up from Millicent’s… mistake.” He looked over in the corner where Millicent watched them with disinterest on her cat tree. “She took them to the store, found the closest colors to it, and… then she sent me this.”

Rey didn’t say a word. She kept touching the yarn, drifting her fingers over it like she was still in disbelief that it existed… that it was hers.

“Is it alright?”

“Alright?” Rey looked up and laughed, clutching the fabric in her hands. “It’s wonderful. That… you went to so much trouble to get this for me. I… thank you!”

Rey let the box fall from her lap, but only so she could lunge forward and wrap her arms around Hux’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she repeated, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s wonderful.”

Hux looked up at her as she clambered into his lap, straddling him. Her arms draped lazily around his shoulders and he couldn’t resist smiling back at her i his own small, subdued way.

“Just please, never make me wear it again.”

Rey barked out a peal of bright, amused laughter. “Are you kidding me? After what happened last time? You’re not touching this scarf.”

“Oh thank God.”

[sweetnestor]

You Look Happier | Chapter 15

university au, teamiplier + jack

platonic/romance/angst/smut

previous chapter

hey i actually have a song for this chapter: Clean by Taylor Swift

“I am… so glad to be apart of the team,” I said in a stiff voice, a fake smile plastered on my face. I was facing the camera, but not looking directly into it. “I am honored to be… to be - I can’t read the card,” I added in a soft voice.

This was my “introduction” video to go on Mark’s channel. I was sitting in front of the camera that Ethan was holding, and I had to pretend like I was forced to read cue cards. But there weren’t any, and I had to improvise.

“I-I’m honored that Mark asked me to join,” I continued in that stiff, staged voice. “And-”

“No, no, no,” spoke the devil himself. “You begged me to join.”

“Right. I asked like, twelve times and they finally let me in!” I smiled in a way that screamed for help. You could say I was acting. “And I am… excited for all of you to see what I can contribute.” Awkwardly, I gave a thumbs up, my smile looking less and less convincing.

Then, Mark came and sat next to me. “Okay, okay. Honestly, though, Bella is one of us now, and I asked her to join. We’ve got some good stuff coming in the future. Also, we’re stranded in Boston!” He went on another tangent that was completely extra before finishing the video.

It was true, though. After PAX, our flight back to LA had been cancelled due to the blizzard. I wasn’t sure what was worse, being forced to be away from my home or the impending doom of having to get back on a plane. While I was able to function somewhat properly after a crying fit, I found myself wearing thin. I know, what else is new? That feeling was probably going to stick for a while, but I guess it’s apart of recovery.

We stayed at Amy’s friend’s house for the time being. At the moment, it was uncertain how long we would be here in Boston. Three days, possibly. I tried not to let that get to me. These things happen. They happen to everyone… except Signe, who got on her flight back to Denmark just before the blizzard hit. Jack would have gone with her, but it was still the middle of the semester. He did mention that they would be okay while he was still at uni, though.

Speaking of YouTube University, I wasn’t sure what my future was with that school. I mean, I was going to be on the road in a few months, on tour. I was going to have a hand in creating the show. I was going with them. It was safe to say none of us were returning to YouTube University in the fall. It felt weird to have future plans.

Since we had nothing else to do, we made a movie trailer. Mark, being Mark, got naked and sat outside in the snow. After all this time, I still didn't know what went on in his head sometimes, but you had to admit he was dedicated. It was fun, though. I got to contribute ideas… and hold the camera for most of the shots.

I also decided to properly look through my social media later at night. We all had to sleep in the living room of the small house, and it was the first time I had a moment of silence. I was stuck between Ethan and Amy, but they were both asleep already.

The same stalker photo of Ethan and I holding hands had been reposted many times. Added to that were professional photos from his signing. I was caught in the background in several of the fan photos, along with the selfies I took with some of them. The various captions are what made me smile, though.

“I met Bella at the signing!! She was so nice and she's so cute with ethan!!”

“THEY'RE SO CUTE OH MY GOD”

“Amyplier whomst? I only know ethella!”

“My new parents”

“I hope Ethan and Bella know we love and support them a whole lot :’)”

It was like a breath of fresh air. I was tempted to post that stalker picture on Instagram with the blue and sparkly heart emojis, but it was probably too soon for that. I knew some of my followers came from Ethan's community, yet I wasn't expecting them to be nice and supportive. It was a different reaction from my last relationship, that's for damn sure.

I let out an audible sigh, glancing at Ethan, who had already fallen asleep. I was still experiencing insomnia from being so far from home, so I sat up and tried to find more ways to keep myself busy.

“Can't sleep?” asked a quiet, deep voice.

I turned, finding Mark sitting on the couch. Last time I saw him, he was lying down next to his girlfriend.

“I won't sleep until we get home,” I replied as I locked my phone and shoved it under my pillow.

He nodded. “I still can't believe you actually came here. You got on a plane.”

“Yeah, and I had to resort to drinking in order to do it,” I told him as I crawled up onto the couch and sat next to him.

“You still did it, though,” he said. “You didn't back out of it. You accomplished a lot this weekend. You should be proud.”

I shrugged. “I guess I can't disagree.”

A silence fell over us, but it was comfortable. I had been alone with Mark plenty of times in my life. I hadn’t been alone with him in a room in a very long time, despite the fact that we had been around each other a lot lately. Well, even now we weren't exactly alone, but we were the only ones awake. Any other time, I would have gone to extreme lengths to avoid seeing him at all. But given the last couple of months or so, I was finding it easier to coexist with him. Here we were, sitting in the dark, with the other five asleep soundly around us. We knew this moment was inevitable, and while it was awkward, it was kind of liberating. As always, I wasn’t the one to start the conversation.

“Are you happy with him?” he asked quietly.

Moment of truth. Everything was already out in the open. Everyone knew about my suicide attempt, everyone knew about Mark’s plan to leave me before Amy came along, and everyone knew about me and Ethan. All that was left to do was tie up the loose ends.

“Are you happy with her?” I asked in response. It was bold of me to say that, and Mark knew it too.

He cracked a smile. “I asked you first.”

“Honestly? Yes,” I answered. “Actually, I think… I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Mark smiled wider. “That’s really good to hear. I’ve wanted to hear that since… I don’t know how long. You deserve to be happy.”

I couldn’t believe I was still fond of him after all this time. My heart swelled up at his words, but I didn’t want to dwell on myself for too long. “So what about you?”

“I’m absolutely the happiest I’ve ever been,” he said. “Not just with Amy - and she does make me very happy - it’s everything I’m doing. I finally feel like I’m doing something good, I don’t even have the words for it.”

“Good.” I was smiling so wide, it was hard to hide it.

“Do you still hate Amy?” It sounded lighthearted, but I took it seriously.

“I never hated her. All the anger and resentment was directed at you, no offense. I mean, it was hard. I won’t lie, that was the most devastating breakup I’ve ever had. And, I think there’s always going to be a part of me that will see her as the girl you left me for. But, for the most part, I’m over it, and I’m glad you two are happy.”

Mark nodded, sitting back against the sofa. “Fair enough…” Then he sighed and brought his knees up to hug them. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for leaving you like that, and for driving you to that point.”

I reached over and placed my hand over his. “Hey. You didn’t know I was going to do that. No one saw that coming. You did what you had to do in order to be happy. What I did, that’s all on me. And look at me, I’m still here and I’m happy, and I’m telling you to move on from that. There’s bigger things going on now. It’s okay.”

“Bella, if I had lost you…”

“But you didn’t. You can’t put the whole blame on yourself. It’s just something that happened. I had it coming, anyway. With or without you. But it's in the past now.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m glad you’re still here. I’m glad that we can still be friends.”

That brought another thought to mind. “I think… I believe that people come and go into our lives for a reason. I think we’re meant to be in each other’s lives, whether we’re lovers, exes, or friends. And if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have met Jack, and then I wouldn’t have found Ethan. I wouldn’t be here talking to you now, and realizing just how important you are to me. You've brought good things into my life.”

Mark was smiling, and he squeezed my hand.

“And I think you were meant to find Amy,” I continued. “Whether I was mentally stable or not, she was meant to come along. I know plenty of things have contributed to your happiness now, but I know she’s done way more for you than I ever could have.”

“That’s what I think about you and Ethan,” Mark told me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much. He's got you getting on planes and going to signings and panels… It's incredible.”

“I made those decisions, not him,” I reminded him.

“Right, of course,” Mark said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you… without anxiety, either.”

“Yeah… I think anxiety is always going to be apart of me. And… I think I’m trying to be okay with it. Like, a bunch of shit happened and the effects of all of that is my anxiety disorder. But I’m trying not to hate it as much, because I’m stuck with it for life.”

“So you might as well work with it,” he finished for me. “That’s good. You know I’ll be here to support you through all of that, right? Despite everything that’s happened between us, I still care about you so much.”

“I care about you too.”

“And you’re actually happy with Ethan?”

“Yes. I don’t even have the words for it.”

I looked over at the guy sleeping beside me. All of these emotions surged in my chest. Here I was, in good terms with my ex, and having a happy relationship with my new boyfriend. My anxiety was at an all time low, something I never thought I would feel. I had people I could call my family.

We heard Tyler groan in his sleep, mumbling something about keeping it down. Mark and I smiled at each other, and we knew there was nothing left to say.

_____

stay tuned for a thank you post following this chapter :)

OH LOOK ANOTHER FIC

[dontshootmespence]

Cutting Strings

A/N: An anon request for a Reader insert where she has been told by her father her whole life that she’s stupid and slow. Rossi is like a surrogate father, and she’s dating Reid, and let’s just say, the father makes the mistake of saying such things around the two agents. Fluffy cuteness with Rossi and Reid and then a little extra romantic fluff with Reid. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8

                                                               ----

Leaving home at the age of 18 had been unbelievably difficult for a number of reasons, but exactly what you needed regardless. Your mother was an amazing woman, but your father, not so much. 

It was difficult to live in the shade of one of the world’s top neurosurgeons and yet not be anywhere near as intelligent. You were average when it came to IQ, no matter how hard you studied, so constantly hearing what an idiot you were wore on your psyche to the point where you couldn’t live at home anymore, even if that meant putting yourself through college without your father’s money.

Waitress jobs, random babysitting and pet-sitting jobs, and the occasional freelance assignment put you through community college, and eventually you obtained a job as a manager of a department store that you enjoyed a fair amount and allowed you to pay the bills. 

Then you’d met Spencer in a deli down the street from the FBI and the rest had been history. The two of you had been dating for over a year and a half, and had instantly adopted his team as an extended family of sorts, especially Rossi, who was more of a father to you in the time you’d known him than your father had been your whole life.

And today was like any other day. Spencer had a lunch break and had called to see if you wanted to meet up for pizza before he decided to go back. Rossi decided to come with him, while the rest of the team went opposite ways for whatever food they wanted to eat. “Hi, honey,” Rossi said, enveloping you in a fatherly hug. Just prior to meeting you, he’d realized he had an adult daughter Joy, and ever since then the fatherly pride oozed from every pore of his body. 

Spencer grabbed your hand and pulled you in for a kiss on the head. “Hi, love. I’ve missed you.”

“You just saw her this morning?” Rossi joked, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Spencer just smiled. “Yea, well I still miss her.”

“I miss you too,” you said, purposely making a kissy face in Spencer’s direction that made Rossi gag again. As you headed into the pizza place, you heart stopped in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asked. He followed your line of vision until it fell on a distinguished looking man with salt and pepper hair and an air about him that just screamed dickbag. 

Spencer squeezed your hand tightly. “Is that your father?”

As a pit formed in your stomach, you nodded. “Oh hello,” he said flatly. He had looked to the side and caught your eye. There was no love lost for him when you had left. It was hard on your mom, but not him. “How are you doing?” He didn’t actually care; it was a social obligation he felt he needed to adhere to. 

“I’m okay,” you said, your voice straining in your throat. “Have a good job. Pay my bills. Have a great boyfriend. By the way, this is him, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Dr.?” He asked, obviously impressed. “You know my daughter could’ve been a doctor if she’d applied herself more, but I guess she was fine being the dumb one in the family.” If only jail weren’t a reality, I would punch you in the dick right now.

Spencer’s hand immediately started sweating in yours; he wasn’t confrontational, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that slide. “Maybe she didn’t want to be a doctor. Maybe, for her, there are other things more important than a career. Family, friends. That sort of thing. Also, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with someone who doesn’t want a high-powered job. It’s not for everyone. It was barely for me and I was thrust into it at the age of 12.”

“Twelve,” he said again, equally as impressed. Again, he was talking as if you weren’t right there. “What do you do for a living? And how did you cross paths with my daughter?”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped.

He looked toward you. “What? My daughter? You are.”

“You’ve never given a damn about me because I didn’t make you look good. You’ve never claimed me as your own before, you don’t get to do it now because I happen to have an extremely intelligent boyfriend, who by the way, has three Ph.D.s and an IQ of 187, which I believe is 20 points higher than yours if I remember correctly.”

“I work as a profiler for the FBI, Dr. L/N, and yes to the three degrees and IQ. I also have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute, and frankly, I think you should be ashamed of yourself for the way you made her feel when she was growing up. That fact that someone as detestable as you was allowed to procreate boggles my mind, and for a man with a 187 IQ, that takes a lot.  She’s smart, beautiful, kind, funny, which is more than I can say for you. You may have intelligence on your side but that’s about all I can see.”

Your father, or sperm donor rather, was about to say something back, when Spencer said something you never imagined. “I am a Doctor, and although I’m not a proctologist, I know an asshole when I see one.”

Rarely speechless, his mouth dropped open, and then he continued to call you a disappointment. Spencer was livid, constantly turning to the side and kissing the top of your head, while he and Rossi went at it. “Personally, I believe you should leave your daughter alone. Forever,” Rossi said. “She’s more of a daughter to me anyway.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?” he asked.

You nearly burst. “His name is Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, one of the founding members of the BAU and one of the best criminal profilers in the world. And he’s right, he’s been more of a father to me in the last year and a half than you have been my entire life. DNA and money don’t make a father. Love does, and you fucking sucked at that.”

“With the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth, your ass must be really jealous,” Rossi said. He was so proud of himself and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You placed your hands on Rossi’s and Spencer’s shoulders. “Now as much as I love that my man and my adoptive father have been sticking up for me, it’s me who gets the last word. I have no siblings. You and mom are separated. I love mom, but I don’t love you and you don’t love me, let’s be honest. You never have. Don’t talk to me. Don’t send me cards. Don't do me any favors, because they always came with a stipulation anyway. I managed on my own without your money which may not be considered “intelligence” but it’s something. Let mom claim me. I’ll claim myself actually. Pretend you don’t have any kids. I’d prefer it that way.”

And with that, the three of you walked away and onto the food line as your sperm donor walked out the door. The second he had, you burst into tears you were so frustrated. Spencer enveloped you in his arms, while Rossi placed your order. “You know what he says isn’t true, right?” he said, rubbing your back. 

“I know I’m not the smartest person in the world, but I’m not dumb, and even if I was that doesn’t give him the right to be so horrible to me,” you sobbed, your breaths catching in your throat. “It’s hard not to take all that shit to heart when you grew up hearing it every day for 18 years.”

Rossi spoke softly, not wanting anyone else to hear in case they didn’t realize that he was joking, but he knew you’d know. “I mean, I may be a law enforcement officer, but I could probably find a creative way to kill him.”

You snorted through the tears, taking a tissue from Spencer and wiping your eyes. “He isn’t worth you going to jail.” After a few moments, your slices came out of the oven and you sat down at a table that had just been vacated. “I just...it’s hard not to believe something when you’re told it day in and day out. It’s like Stockholm Syndrome, right?”

Spencer hadn’t really thought of it that way, but yes. “Long-term exposure to any ideology would instill it in your brain, so yes,” he said. “Your IQ may not be as high as his, but that doesn’t matter to anyone that matters to you. You’re a good person. You are intelligent. You’re funny and kind, and you somehow didn’t turn into a giant dickhead even though you came from one.”

Rossi echoed Spencer’s statements, saying he was disgusted that a father would even think those things about his own child, no less voice them. “And, I promise, killing him is still on the table...I know guys.”

Rossi came from Long Island, you were sure he knew a lot of guys. “I bet you do,” you replied. “But he’s not worth it. You both are though.” You were sitting between them and rubbed both of their arms. “Thank you again. It means a lot that you stuck up for me.”

“And one day, you won’t have to bear his name anymore,” Spencer said with a smile. You raised on eyebrow. “Really? You gonna marry me?”

“I think I might just,” he said. “You are the whole package.”

As if on cue, Rossi stuck his finger in his mouth again. “Get a room.”