#i really need to update my fix on a03 soon I just been going through writers block and I’m shy since this is my first fic

[julemmaes]

Hey, I really enjoy "Love her like she should be loved" and I was wondering if you'll update it soon? Like.. I've been looking at A03 page everyday waiting, no rush tho. Have a good day!

You’re Not Alone (3)

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au

A/N: I know yall always tell me not to be sorry, but I AM AND I CAN’T HELP IT. I’m sorry I made you wait sooo fucking long for this, but I’m kinda struggling with things rn and I really hate it so yeah, hope you can understand that.

Also, this didn’t went as good as I thought, but I took inspiration from what I think would go down with people I know in real life in a situation like this and I really hope it makes sense for you too. Enjoy!:)

part one, part two

Word count: 6,665

Nesta had responded to Feyre's message the next morning with a simple 'Okay, we can meet for dinner tonight.' and then invited the entire group to her house.

When she warned Cassian that he would have to go grocery shopping for everyone, he was shocked for a moment, looking at her carefully and trying to figure out if she was joking.

"Are you serious?" he asked her, taking a seat at the table and holding the cup of warm milk in his hands.

Nesta arched an eyebrow, throwing a glance over her shoulder, "What?"

Cassian had to tell himself to calm down, because the anger he had managed to repel all night was surfacing again. Not at Nesta, but at Rhysand, Morrigan. "I understand that you want to settle things with your sisters and..." he stammered, "and the others, but invite them here for dinner. Are you sure it won't end badly and that it won't contaminate this safe space?"

Nesta had stopped washing the dishes and although she had her back turned, he knew that her eyes were closed. Cassian stiffened, ready to stand up in case she needed physical comfort. The girl closed the faucet and turned towards him, taking a deep breath, "Tonight will not be easy," she announced.

Cassian nodded as he finished his breakfast and stood up, "I know it won't be easy, that's why I worry," he moved her from her position in front of the sink and put his cup in it, "If tonight goes poorly and you feel overwhelmed, you won't be able to go back to your house in a quiet and peaceful place and calm down." he took to washing the dishes for her, looking down at her face.

"I know, Cass." she passed her hand through her hair sighing, untangling it. She looked at him in turn, looking for confirmation, "But if I let them in here, maybe they will think that I'm really trying to apologize and that I want things to work out." she took one hand to her lips, biting the edge of her nail.

Cassian put the last cutlery in the dishwasher and took her wrist, taking her hand away from her mouth and bringing it to his, before leaving a kiss on her palm. Nesta smiled at him, but that happiness lasted only a few seconds because she grew grim, closing her eyes, "I'm afraid of messing everything up".

"I know, sweetheart." he whispered to her, "I'm afraid too."

She opened her eyes, frowning.

"I'm afraid that Rhys will be so blinded by hatred that he won't hear anything we say." he began, "I'm afraid that Mor will say things that - even if they are not true - will find a way to get under your skin."

Nesta leaned towards him, taking both hands to his chest, "I'm afraid that Elain will understand and that Feyre won't." she murmured, "I'm afraid that they will fight because of me. I'm terrified that this will affect Rhysand and Feyre's relationship more than I can imagine."

Cassian took a deep breath. He hadn't thought about that.

"Listen to me," he took her face in his hands, Nesta looked him straight in the eye, "both your sisters and my family are adults. We're not talking to children. We're talking to people who can think logically and who know what it means to be mentally ill."

She hesitated for a long moment and then nodded with conviction before shaking her head vehemently. She took a trembling breath and Cassian saw the moment Nesta's insecurities appeared on the surface when her eyes became lucid.

She slipped away from his touch, giving him her shoulders and leaning against the island. She was taking deep and quick breaths.

Cassian knew he didn't have to touch her when she was having an anxiety attack, but that didn't stop him from going near her and trying to calm her down. He spoke to her softly, but firmly, "I know it's scary Nesta. I know it's not easy, but you're not alone." he clenched his hands when her breath broke and the instinct to take her in his arms became overwhelming.

"You are not alone and whatever happens tonight we can stop. Whether it's when they arrive and they're still outside the door or it's halfway through dinner, you can get up and leave the room." she still had her eyes closed and a few tears were streaming down her cheeks. "You just have to look at me and I will understand Nes. I will send them away. You don't have to worry about that."

Nesta put a hand on her chest. "Breathe sweetheart. Focus on my voice."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

"What if they all start to turn against me?" she asked in a voice so weak that it broke his heart.

Cassian tightened his jaw, knowing full well that this could be one of many options, "If they even dare to gang up on you, I'll take care of it. I'm not lying when I say that you are not alone."

Nesta held her breath, pressing the back of her hand over her cheeks. Then she nodded once and turned towards him. "I am not alone." she repeated like a prayer.

"You are not alone."

He held her in his arms when she threw herself at him and swung into her kitchen for another twenty minutes before they both had to leave to go to class.

During the morning Cassian had tried to concentrate as much as possible on what the teachers had explained, but as he could well imagine, there had been no way to follow a single lesson. Every single thought he had was focused on the dinner that would take place that evening.

Around lunchtime, Nesta had warned him that there would be six of them. Azriel and Amren would not be there.

He hadn't commented on this choice. After all, he knew that it would already be very complicated to talk to her sisters, with the fact that Morrigan and Rhysand would also be there. Cassian felt slightly relieved that they would not have to endure the enigmatic silence of his older brother and the mocking looks of his friend. He would have thought about it another day to set the record straight with the two of them.

He left campus at five o'clock and very slowly walked to his car. He arrived downtown half an hour later and sat in the supermarket parking lot for a long time, his hands tight around the steering wheel and his eyes fixed onto the void, too deep in his thoughts.

He would not have been able to hold back that night, if Rhysand had even tried to say anything negative or if he had tried to minimize Nesta's problems. He did not know if he would be able to stop if he crossed the line.

He ran his hand over his face, taking a deep breath and breaking that trance he had been in for what seemed like centuries.

Luckily he only had to buy a few things. He had almost finished - he was looking for olives for the Greek salad and couldn't find them in any of the aisles - when his phone rang. The ringtone was not the personalized one he used for Nesta and he didn't bother to answer it quickly.

He frowned when he saw that it was Mor, but brought the phone to his ear nonetheless, accepting the call, "Hello?".

"Where are you?"

Cassian looked around confused, "At the mall, why?"

"And are you with Nesta?"

"No, she's home."

He heard Mor mumbling something and then huffing, "Understood, well, couldn't you tell your sweetheart to open the door to the house for us?" she asked exasperated.

The blood froze in Cassian's veins, "Why are you already there?" he asked as he walked towards the cashiers, hurrying up shortly afterwards. He removed the phone from his ear, looking at the time, "Mor, it's half past six, why the hell are you already there?".

He heard his friend's indignation even through the phone, "Don't use that tone with me, I didn't show up here earlier out of spite-" she was interrupted by someone, presumably Rhysand, who warned her by saying her name. She huffed, "Nesta told us to come at this time."

Cassian cursed under his breath and hurried to put all the things on the tape, remaining silent while thinking which way would be the fastest to get to Nesta's house.

"Cassian?”

He passed the money to the cashier, waiting for the change before answering, "Yes, Mor, I'm still here".

"So?"

"Did you ring?" he asked, running towards the parking lot.

"Do you think we are brainless? Of course we rang the doorbell!" Cassian thought at that very moment that if Mor hadn't dropped the attitude by the time dinner arrived, he would have pulled her hair out one by one.

"I'll call you back in ten minutes," he told her, throwing the bags in the back seats and letting the food fall out.

"Ten minutes?" asked the blonde in a distraught tone, "I'm not going to wait that long just because that bitc-" movement was heard through the speaker and Cassian had to refrain from yelling at Morrigan. A few seconds later, he heard Feyre's voice, "No problem Cass, we're going for a drive around here and we'll be back in ten minutes, please text me when you're there."

Cassian thanked her, praying to every god on earth that others would be as forgiving as she was during dinner. He quickly typed in Nesta's number and drove out of the parking lot, focusing more on what he would want to say to Mor than on the street.

She didn't answer immediately and Cassian had to call her back twice, starting to worry that Nesta had changed her mind at last and that something serious had happened. When she answered on the fourth call, he released a relieved laugh.

"What is it Cass? I was taking a shower," she said irritated, "You interrupted the music eighty times," she mumbled annoyed.

Cassian put his hand over his mouth, "Hey baby, listen," he started, going straight to the point, "what time did you say everybody was coming?"

"At 7:30, why?" she asked and he could imagine her naked in the middle of the bathroom with a frown on her face.

"I think you wrote the message with the wrong time then. Mor called me and they are all there already. They buzzed a couple of times, you must not have heard them because of the music."

Silence.

"Nesta?"

"Fuck, no." she breathed through the microphone. "I can't let them up, tell them I'm not at home." she said in a hurry, "I can't be alone with them. I need you here while I do it. I need you here while I'm doing it."

"Calm down Nes, I already asked them to go for a ride. I'm in the car and I'm on my way."

"Are you driving?" she asked in the tone of one who seemed to have forgotten everything that had just happened. He didn't answer, knowing full well that he was going to kick his ass. "God, how many times have I told you not to talk on the phone while driving?"

"We're not having this conversation again." he snorted, turning right to take the highway, "Would you send a message to Feyre saying you made a mistake and the appointment was supposed to be in an hour?"

Nesta hesitated and then asked quietly, "Can't you do it?"

"You just yelled at me because I'm on the phone with you while behind the wheel and you want me to write a message?"

"You could pull over," she asked.

Cassian knew where all that anxiety was coming from and asking her to do something that would stress her even more on a day like this would be bad. He swelled her cheeks and released all the air and then nodded, "Alright, see you in ten."

"Pull over, though, don't text while you're driving."

"Yeah yeah, don't worry."

"I swear Cassian that if they call me from the hospital-"

"They won't," he reassured her, chuckling, "See you in a bit."

He put down the call with Nesta and called Feyre back, warning her that there had been a misunderstanding and that they would not be ready for at least another hour. The girl had reassured him that there were no problems, but despite Feyre's various attempts to mask Mor's offenses, Cassian had heard them anyway.

He arrived at Nesta's apartment in a very short time and as soon as he entered the house, she was all over him. The bags full of food fell from his hands when he had to hold Nesta to his chest to avoid falling backwards.

He breathed in her hair, rubbing his hands on her back in relaxing circles, "Hello beautiful".

"You haven't even looked me in the face yet," she murmured against his chest in a muffled voice. He snickered, "I don't need to see you to know that you are beautiful."

When they broke off to kiss Cassian felt that she was hesitant.

He put his hand on her cheek, "Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"

She closed her eyes, relishing in the moment, "Cassian, as much as I love you, tonight I need you to tell me that I'm ready and not give me a way out every time we talk."

He nodded, frowned and put on a fake tough-guy-expression, imitating the voice of his high school coach, "What are you hugging me for, woman? Tonight you have to be strong and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I should have let your sisters in and let the wolves eat you alive."

Nesta pushed him slightly, with a grimace on her face, "Stupid." she whispered.

He gave her a sincere smile, moving a lock of hair from her face, "What do you say you start cooking something so I can take a shower without the terror of you running away and as soon as I get out of here I help you finish?" he suggested, taking off his jacket and taking the groceries to the kitchen, Nesta just tailed him. She answered affirmatively and after leaving a kiss on her lips, he ran to the bathroom.

When he came out, washed and combed, it was quarter past seven and Nesta had set the table in the small living room. The Greek salad without olives was in the center, next to the keftedes she had prepared during the day. Cassian really did not know with what desire and spirit she had cooked all that good food for people who had always hated her.

He entered the kitchen when Nesta took the moussaka out of the oven, also result of her afternoon spent cooking and Cassian started to cut the bread and put it together with the various cheeses and cold cuts he had bought.

Nesta wasn't talking, but he saw it in the way she was jerking and looking around frantically that her nerves were about to explode. When the oven timer rang, Nesta almost screamed and Cassian had to stop what he was doing and went towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders, "Look at me."

Nesta looked at him immediately.

"Talk to me." he whispered to her.

She remained silent, so he gave her a hand in starting the conversation, "When are you going to tell them?"

"Tonight."

Cassian chuckled, "Obviously," she sighed, "I meant at what point. Before dinner, during, after?" he asked confidently so as to pass on some of that comfort. He also knew that, for her, having a plan of action, whether it was for dinner or a vacation, was very important and took away a lot of the anxiety that these things brought on her.

She straightened her shoulders, "I don't have the slightest idea, I thought doing it before, maybe with a glass of wine, would be better, but then I thought that if it goes wrong they will leave before we can eat and then we would have to eat Greek for days and not that I mind, but I don't think it's the best for our diet, you know. " she looked him dead in the eye while she was blathering on, clasping her hands around his forearms, "Then I thought about doing it during dinner, but if we start yelling at each other-" "They won't go that far, I promise you." "You don't know that. If we start yelling at each other and then someone chokes on the food, we risk one of us suffocating and dying. And I would like to avoid that." Cassian laughed at that point. Nesta looked at him very badly, "And afterwards, we might as well do it, but afterwards they are more likely to leave earlier, because maybe they think they'd done their part and had dinner with me, they apologize, I apologize and then they leave and I don't have time to explain myself."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, "So you want to do it first?"

"I don't want to eat Greek for a week, I've made so much that we could feed an army."

"During dinner seems the best moment honestly." he confessed to her, tearing her hands from his arms, taking the souvlaki and putting them in the oven. Nesta thanked him quietly. "I mean, we could approach the topic at any time, doing it between one piece of spanakotiropita and the other shouldn't be too complicated."

Nesta was about to answer when the doorbell rang and she froze on the spot.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

Cassian wanted to open the door and send everyone away, because Nesta had started moving in circles and was waving her hands mid-air. He had seen her anxious about a lot of things, but he knew that this would be a decisive point in her life and the idea of the change it would bring - whether positive or negative it would be - was overwhelming.

"Remember sweetheart, the second you want them to leave, you look at me, you wink at me and I'll let you escape." he reminded her, approaching the front door and pushing a button to open the gate of the building. They would be in the house in less than a minute.

Nesta was torturing her hands, but now she had a hard look on her face, "I'm scared shitless of Morrigan," she whispered. Cassian didn't have time to answer because someone knocked and he was forced to open the door.

Feyre gave him a wide smile that didn't reach her eyes and his gaze went from the two Archeron sisters to Rhysand.

He hadn't heard from him that day and hadn't seen him since the night before, when he had screamed at him.

He smiled at him in a strange way, but the younger one seemed to appreciate the gesture anyway because he gave him a lopsided smile in return.

"Hey Cass." Mor said in a tone that promised trouble, "Are you going to let us in, or are you having serious issues with welcoming people into your house too?"

His jaw hardened and Nesta appeared at his side, placing a hand on his arm. The blonde's eyes snapped to the spot where her hand was clutching the fabric of his shirt, "Sorry Morrigan, I didn't hear the doorbell before and I made a typo, I didn't think your life depended on the hour I made you lose. And I didn't think you'd be interested in coming here and watching me cook, I'll take that into account next time."

Mor nodded once, clutching her hands on the bag. The two women stared into each other's eyes for eternal moments, until Elain cleared her voice, "Hello Nes."

Things seemed to lighten up and when Cassian stepped aside, letting Rhysand and Mor in as the three sisters hugged, the group split up and the tension in the air seemed to get heavier.

Cassian had no idea how he should behave.

"This way." he pointed in the direction of the living room and when he turned to see if they were following him, Rhys handed him a bottle of wine, his lips reduced to a thin line and his shoulders tense.

"Here," he muttered, and Cassian was pleasantly surprised that he wasn't the only one struggling, "Nesta told us not to bring anything, but it looked bad."

"Oh, yes please, open it," said Mor on the other side of the living room, while analyzing the photos on the shelves. Photos of him and Nesta. Photos that his girlfriend had moved every time her sisters had visited in the last few months.

Cassian looked towards the entrance and saw that Nesta and the others were no longer there, they must have gone to the kitchen. He turned to his friend and she was looking over her shoulder at him, "We're going to need it so badly if she's going to keep that attitude all night long".

Rhys sighed, carrying a hand over his face, "Mor, drop it…"

Cassian raised his hand to stop him, without moving his eyes from the blonde, "No, please continue, that's why we are here."

Mor turned completely towards him, grinding her teeth, "I really don't understand how you can be in a relationship with her." Rhysand stiffened beside him, "Did you see how she replied to me before?" she asked, waving one hand towards the door.

"Oh for fuck's sake," whispered Cassian angrily, "you hadn't even entered the house and had already insulted both me and her. You are not the victim here so stop acting like a child and try to understand where all the resentment comes from."

Mor was about to answer, but Elain had just entered the living room and Rhysand had cleared his throat before he took his seat. Mor did the same thing, followed by Elain and Feyre. Cassian shook his head and headed into the kitchen.

Nesta was looking at the pans with the various foods inside, clenching and opening her fists, which made Cassian's chest tighten. He had gone into the room with the intention of telling her that he would not be able to hold back if Mor continued like that, to warn her that if he exploded, it would not be her fault, but now that he saw her so agitated all his attention had turned to her.

"How are you?" he asked her, putting his hand on the small of her back. He kissed her temple.

Nesta turned towards him, taking a deep breath and releasing all the air. She did it one more time. The third time, Cassian breathed with her.

She nodded and took one of the pans, he opened the bottle of wine, took a second pan and returned to the living room.

Elain and Mor sat at the head of the table and Rhysand and Feyre on one of the sides, leaving the seats in front of them free for Cassian and Nesta.

The woman of the house laid the food on the table, asking those present to pass her the plates and what and how much food they wanted. Cassian sat down and poured the wine to Mor, who sat next to him. She gave him a hard smile and thanked him. Then he turned to Feyre and she shook her head, "No, thank you, I would rather not drink tonight."

Elain chuckled, "Wise choice, you were a little out of it this morning."

Rhysand gave her a big smile, "One of the worst hangovers ever, actually."

Nesta stiffened to those words, looking at her younger sister, "Sorry, if I'd known you were sick, I'd have arranged for another night."

Feyre seemed appalled for a moment, but she blinked briefly and was quick to reassure her, "Oh no, don't worry. I've taken something for my headache, and I feel better."

They began to eat in silence and Cassian was too tense and worried not to glance at Mor to really taste the food or start a conversation, but Rhysand seemed to be particularly appreciative, because he was making satisfied noises, "Nesta, this is so good. What is it?" he looked at her face for a moment and Cassian was sure that he was blushing because he bent his head down and kept eating.

"It's moussaka." answered Elain, smiling.

Nesta seemed surprised, "It's a Greek dish, our father loved Greek cuisine and this is one of the recipes he did most often."

"Well, kudos." Rhysand told her, then he turned his glaring gaze to Feyre, "I'm pretty sure you could never cook something like that."

Feyre seemed more uncomfortable than the others, not because of what her boyfriend had said, more because of the situation in general, but she didn't miss an opportunity to brazenly reply, "As if you can do better than me. We both suck and without Elain or Azriel we would have been dead long ago. Probably both buried under boxes and boxes of take-away food."

Elain laughed and Nesta dared what seemed to be a smile.

They joked for a few more minutes and at one point Cassian had relaxed so much that he even managed to laugh at one of Rhysand's jokes. Morrigan seemed to be dead next to him, but he couldn't even look at her and felt her look burn on the skin of his neck.

When the appetizers were finished and the firsts were brushed off the table, the silence spread between the chairs and the tension in the air came back, without announcing its arrival, heavier than before.

"Excuse me," said Mor suddenly, when the silence became too much, she looked at Nesta, "The bathroom?"

Nesta looked at her in turn and Cassian really thought she would not answer her, but then she murmured, "Second door on the right." pointing to the corridor and he relaxed. Mor thanked her, nothing grateful in that tone.

Cassian shifted his gaze to his brother, but Rhysand had his eyes on Nesta. The man cleared his voice, drawing everyone's attention to himself, and narrowed his eyes, "I wanted to apologize, Nesta."

She stopped, placing the fork on the napkin and nodding once.

"I'm..." he coughed, embarrassed, shifting his gaze to Feyre and bringing it back to her immediately afterwards, "I'm sure Cassian told you what happened last night."

Nesta put her hands on her legs and Cassian took the opportunity to hold her hand. The movement did not go unnoticed by the two sisters, who exchanged a glance. "Yes, he told me what happened. Not in detail though."

Rhysand swallowed noisily, "I had no idea you were sick."

So he would have gone straight to the point.

Cassian settled down in the chair, squeezing his fingers around Nesta's.

"You never cared enough about me to ask, it's understandable that you didn't know," she replied, "You never really tried to get to know me."

His tone became harsher, "Considering how you behaved the first times we all went out together and how you always treated everyone in our group, you should not be surprised."

"Rhys." Feyre warned him. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"It's true," he said, turning to Nesta, "You've never given me a chance to really get to know you over the years."

Cassian could see how Nesta's walls were coming up faster than ever. The threat now so concrete that even a gust of wind could have knocked them down and made them weak.

"That's because you never tried to understand my motives, but you stopped at the description that my sister probably gave you." Nesta replied, in an equally harsh tone.

Elain seemed to whimper at the head of the table and cast a worried look at Cassian. He told her silently without speaking that they would not intervene.

Feyre leaned forward, her hands intertwined in front of her on the table, "But Nesta, you must understand that you have never really behaved well with me. You've always treated me as if I were worth nothing."

"I never thought that, and I certainly never said that. I think you are one of the most wonderful people in the world and an equally good artist." then she turned to Elain, "The same goes for you."

"And why did you treat me like that all those years after dad died?" insisted Feyre.

A door at the end of the corridor closed, and a few seconds later Mor appeared, sitting with her back upright, sensing the air.

"Because you weren't the only one to lose your parents, Feyre," said Nesta. By now her eyes had become ice. Elain gasped at those words and reached out to her older sister, but she remained hanging mid-air. "You may not remember our mother, but I do. I lost her and I lost dad on the same day," she said, gritting her teeth. "Just because we reacted differently to the mourning doesn't mean I was okay and capable of taking care of you."

Feyre caught her breath and Nesta resumed, "When dad died, there was nothing of the man I had known for half my life, but the loss was double."

"I never knew..." whispered Elain.

Nesta turned to her, "I never wanted to put this burden on you. I could have handled it on my own. Just as I was sure that you too could have done just fine without me," she whispered, "And so it turned out."

Cassian stroked the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry for giving you the impression that I didn't care about you, for making you believe that you are not a vital part of my life, but I was young and full of anger and rather than dump everything on you I preferred to keep it all inside and maybe I did more damage than good, but my intention was never to hurt you, Feyre, or Elain," said Nesta, with gleaming eyes.

Mor snorted, "You know, people normally go to therapy for these things."

Cassian took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Nesta tilted her head to the side, looking at the blonde, "I've been in therapy for months now."

Elain brought a hand to her mouth, looking at Cassian, "You didn't tell us."

He had to clear his voice before he spoke, "It wasn't my place."

Feyre looked at him with her mouth slightly wide open. Rhysand had a thoughtful expression, but he too was staring at his brother.

"And I'd really like to know what your real problem is with me. Because I really can't understand what I've done to you," Nesta asked, looking sincerely confused.

Mor looked at Cassian, looked at his plate, "I don't think you are enough for him."

Cassian couldn't stand it any longer and pulling his hand away from Nesta's grip he turned his whole body to the blonde, "And why should that be any of your business?

Mor gave him a fiery look, "Because I'm your friend and I want what's best for you," she clarified, pointing to Rhysand and Feyre with a painted finger, "When the two of them got together, Feyre was friendly, sociable and never offended anyone in the group-"

"When has Nesta ever directly offended one of you?" Cassian asked exasperatedly, raising his arms to the sky. The girl remained silent, shifting her gaze between the two lovers. Cassian scoffed, "You can't even find an example. God, you're ridiculous." he ran a hand through his hair.

"Ridiculous?" cried Mor, "I'm not the one who has been hiding her relationship for months from her whole family out of fear."

Cassian stood up, raising his voice, "And don't you think that fear is because of the way you are reacting now that I would have preferred to keep it hidden for a longer period of time?!"

Mor was also standing now, "If you had told me before-"

"No!" he shouted, "No! Nothing would have changed. And it's not because you believe that Nesta is a bitch, no! It's because you're always so busy involving everyone in your going-outs and your parties and your bullshit that you don't realize that some people don't like these kinds of pastimes!" he was talking so loud that a vein popped in his neck, "Sometimes I just want to stay home and sleep, but with you it's impossible! Because you always have to force everyone. And now you've finally found someone to stand up to you and say no and you can't stand it."

Mor seemed to be shaking with anger, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't?" Cassian asked laughing, no trace of amusement in the sound, "Have you ever let Azriel decide whether to stay home or not? Have any of us ever said no to you?"

Mor shook her head, not to answer, but shocked by the turn the conversation had taken, "And why do you think so?"

"Cassian, maybe you should sit and drink some water and calm down," Rhysand suggested, looking him in the eye. He didn't even bother to let him know that he had heard it.

"Nesta doesn't bitch to you and avoid you because she's a bad person, but because talking to you means accepting that you have a busy schedule that you don't want to have for the next two months and instead of saying no every time she prefers not to have connections at all" he concluded sighing and throwing himself in the chair.

Nesta rubbed a hand on his back and he closed his eyes.

Fuck.

He had spoken for her.

He shouldn't have.

They remained silent for a few seconds.

"Mor, I," Cassian resumed, in a much calmer and lower tone than before, "I didn't mean all those things, I'm just angry right now and I exaggerated."

"No, don't worry, I understand what you mean." whispered Mor, passing one hand over her shiny eyes, "I'll try not to invite you anymore when I want to cheer someone up."

Fuck.

Cassian knew very well that Morrigan's festive and witty attitude was the reason why they were all so close. All the adventures, all the laughter and the memories... they owed it to her.

"That's not-" he cursed, looking into her eyes, "I'm just trying to say that you don't have compatible personalities, but just because you like to have fun in a different way doesn't mean that Nesta isn't worthy of me or that she's a bad person just because she never went dancing with you."

Morrigan didn't answer, he stood in front of everyone and, surprising everyone, it was Nesta who resumed the conversation, "I've been really bad in the last few months, Mor."

The blonde sat back down, hands in her lap.

"I've been sick and the only person I had next to me was Cassian. I got to know him in these months, I found out what a great person he is and how much he is willing to give for those he loves," she looked at her sisters and Rhysand, back to Mor, "So I understand you perfectly right now. I understand that you're scared and you think that sooner or later I'm going to do something wrong and hurt him, but even if I do, I can assure you that the person I'm going to hurt the most is going to be me."

Cassian looked at her and the tip of his nose started to pinch. He bit his lip. He would not cry.

"I'm working hard to be a version of myself that doesn't scare me and that my sisters can recognize and I can't blame you if you don't know me, because I don't know myself either." she also turned to Rhysand, to whom she had just told practically the opposite.

"Cassian is my lifeline right now and I am willing to let my guard down for you if you are willing to respect my boundaries." she murmured, "I know this doesn't fix things and that your idea of me is still very confused, but I am really willing to give you some of my time to patch things up."

Feyre sniffed, reaching over the table towards Nesta, "Please forgive me."

Nesta smiled genuinely, "I'm sorry too, Feyre."

The younger sister got up from her chair and went around the table, surprising Cassian when she bent over Nesta to hug her. Elain smiled at her from where she sat and stood up a moment later, joining in the embrace.

"To-" Nesta resumed when Feyre and Elain broke away, "To explain a little bit why I act the way I do. I have problems, serious problems interacting with people," she murmured, picking at her nails, "Sometimes I do things I don't want to do just to regret it right away and I know it's no excuse for all the times I've been grumpy, but that's why it happens."

Rhysand cleared his throat for the ninth time, "I've been in therapy too. For several years," he confessed.

Cassian gave him a grateful smile.

"So, I know you have Cassian, and I'm sure your therapist is more than qualified for this kind of thing, but if you ever need another set of ears, you could..." he backed off, thinking maybe he was crossing one of those boundaries Nesta had just talked about, "I mean, if you need something, you can always ask."

"Same thing." Elain added, approaching her, "I may not understand half of it, but I want to be there if you let me."

Nesta nodded, more serious than ever. "Thank you."

Cassian came forward, "Thank you for talking to us sweetheart."

Mor got up in a flash, "Thank you Nesta. Cassian." she turned to the others. The look lost in the air as she gathered her things, "It was a pleasure, and the food was great."

"Mor..." Cassian stood up, "Wait."

His friend turned to him, clenching her fists, "I think I need some time. These are not things that are quickly assimilated," she told him with all the sincerity of the world.

"I understand that and I don't take it personally Morrigan. I can't assure you I'll be pleasant, but if you have any questions I'll try to answer them." Nesta intercepted, before Cassian could make the situation he had already created with the blonde worse.

Rhysand had got up and stood next to his cousin, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

She shook her head and her eyes became shiny. For Cassian it was like receiving a punch in the chest.

Feyre took a deep breath, "Actually I think we should all go." she murmured, "It's been a heavy conversation and I've learned a lot tonight and I think I need a seven-day nap before I can even have a conversation about art again."

That joke got a light laugh out of the whole group.

"You don't need to come with me, I can go by myself." worried Mor, shaking her head when Elain got up and started to get dressed.

Feyre shook her head in turn, "I repeat, I think I'm going to faint and I really need a few moments alone to think about everything too."

Rhysand put his arm around her waist and squeezed her.

Cassian bid his brother goodnight, hugging him and thanking him from the bottom of his heart for coming and listening without creating too many problems.

As soon as everyone was out of the apartment, Nesta burst into tears and Cassian said nothing as he held her to his chest, stroking her hair.

They hadn't gone into details and maybe they weren't on the same page yet, but they would have worked to get there.

It was a start.

acotar tag list (if you want to be removed/added just send an ask or dm me)

@tottenhamboys20 @sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books

[welcometocaritas]

‘if you love me, don’t let go...’

First chapter of my yumagna fic is out ladies and gentlebabies! 

Chapter: 1/6

Characters: Yumiko & Magna

Pairing: Yumagna

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Format: Multi-Chap

Summary:  At some point, you just have to let go - or so Yumiko keeps telling herself.There was never any letting go of Magna.

Links: A03, FF.NET

[watermark is from my instagram yumagnas.home don’t worry i didn’t steal the pic ;)]

 A/N: 

[The rape/non-con is there for Magna's cousin and it will only ever be in references I will not be writing anything detailed about it because I don't want to trigger anyone and this isn't the story for writing about something like that as I would not be able to give it the time and attention it deserves]

Small note: Magna's cousin is called Maisie in this and I've also given her a brother called Morgan.

y'all are going to hate me because yes, this is going to be over 20000 words about a single night. And probably not even the whole night. but there's also flashbacks so it's OK? In my defense, we've gotten very few conversations with these two so there was a lot to talk about. I can't be held responsible for my actions. blame the writers.

I’m honestly a little worried that I’m going to bore people to tears because there’s really no plot. It’s just yumagna being soft and finally sorting out their shit.

I'm also working on a short oneshot - for real this time it's actually going to be short - that's set in the indeterminate future after this. It's basically just going to be pure fluff which you should knew is unheard of - I never write fluff. So hopefully it's not terrible.

There be angst here, lots of angst, but also comfort - if you’re familiar with my writing that won’t be a surprise to you.

I don’t have much hope for canon so I decided to do what I could to fix the mess they made.

I normally wouldn’t reveal anything that’s going to happen in a fic but y’all have been tortured enough already so just know I will absolutely be getting these girls back together, it won’t take more than a night, but it will take about 20000 words. Most of the story is written out already I’m just doing post-edits so I’ll update daily :)

If things seem a little disjointed it’s because I wrote everything out of order and it’s been a bit of a struggle to get everything to fit into place. I also haven’t slept more than 1-4 hours a night for the past three weeks, have been getting constant migraines and blood sugar crashes so I’m gonna apologize right now if there are any mistakes. I’m super sorry.

This is for the yumagna fandom cos I wanted y'all to have something nice with everything that's going on. I would also like to give a special thanks to Abbey and Mina who acted as my sounding board throughout this whole thing and were very patient with me - love you guys :)

....

"If you love me, don't let go

Hold

Hold on

Hold on to me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady . . . "

- Unsteady by X Ambassadors

. . .

Nightmares had always been an issue, though less so in recent years. Magna had gotten almost gotten used to having a full night's sleep, barring the occasional pillow snatch. Back before all this started, she'd been on medication for PTSD, but well, it was kind of hard to fill a prescription in the middle of the apocalypse - and, well, the apocalypse had only added to the previous need for said medication. At least she was in good company. These days, it was more of a surprise if someone wasn't experiencing some form of post-traumatic stress, and that was a somewhat odd reality to wake up in, day after day. For years, this thing had set her apart but now? Now it just made her like everyone else.

Miko had nightmares too.

It was what had led to them sharing a 'bed' in the first place, way before things between them moved beyond the confines of friendship. They'd fallen asleep by the fire one particularly cold night, curled around each other for warmth, and they hadn't awoken until morning.

It had been something of a revelation.

On Magna's end, she suspected it had had a lot to do with trust. She'd trusted Miko not to shove a shiv into her side or try to cop a feel whilst she slept, trusted her even more to have her back if things went south during the night. She'd been . . . safe. Magna wasn't used to people being safe - she wasn't quite sure what she offered Miko in return, though; maybe the same thing.

Of course, in many ways Yumiko wasn't safe. There was nothing safe about the way Magna felt about her. Or the way those feelings seemed to be returned. She knew Miko had had a girlfriend in college who cheated - and when the other woman had told her that, a vindictive part of her had hoped the bitch had been one of the many, many people to meet their end by sicko teeth. Miko had smacked her on the arm for that comment, exasperation tempered by fondness and reluctant amusement.

She'd realized in her time away, that this past hurt would have only sharpened Magna's betrayal. Trust was important to Miko - hell, it was important to Magna - and she had broken hers by lying, lying for years. She hadn't thought of it that way when she'd been doing it. The secret had weighed on her, yes, but she'd been viewing it from a place of hadn't really considered how it would hurt Miko, only what it would do to their relationship if it had ever come out, what it would do to her.

That, more than anything, had made her realize that Miko had been right to kick her out. More than right.

Which is why she could hardly believe that they were here now. That Miko was letting her head rest in her lap, that she had invited her to do so. Sitting back against a tree and patting her thigh with a small smile her way when Magna had gone to settle a short distance off. The way she had nearly fallen over herself to accept that invitation was almost embarrassing but she couldn't bring herself to feel self-conscious about it, or to second guess the action. They'd done this as friends too and she was glad it wasn't something she had sacrificed with their relationship.

She'd been attracted to Yumiko from the moment they met. It was hard not to be. She wasn't blind - hot lawyer lady in a suit, how could she not notice her in that way? The woman had entered into her dilapidated life with a sureness and determination that was hard to dismiss. Intelligent, strong, and fighting for her.

No one had ever fought for Magna. Not until Miko.

(really, she'd been screwed from the start)

Of course, the person Yumiko was fighting for was little more than an illusion. If Miko had only known the truth then . . .

She probably would have dropped her like a hot potato, just like everybody else. She probably would have been wise to.

Or maybe she wasn't giving Miko enough credit. After all, she was still here now. Carding her hand through Magna's hair in a soothing motion as she pretended to sleep - and Miko pretended to believe her. She knew the truth now, and still she kept close. Maybe they weren't together anymore but that had been as much Magna's choice as Miko's. She couldn't let herself get to that place again, where she was so terrified of losing something, she ended up destroying it.

�� And God, Magna was so tired, so tired of being afraid, so tired of being angry.

Just so tired.

('I can't do this anymore.')

She needed a distance between them, even if she didn't want it. Romantic relationships had a tendency to blow up in her face. But friendships . . . well, they tended to be more reliable. After all, she had been friends with Miko for years and things only turned sour after they had crossed over the safety of that border into something more.

(things turned sour because you couldn't stand keeping it a secret from her anymore. The same thing would have happened if you'd still been only friends)

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering at the last second that she was supposed to be asleep. But Miko only stilled a moment before continuing with her motions, allowing the deception to maintain itself.

The relief passed her lips in a shaky exhale.

Magna couldn't bring herself to talk anymore. She was drained - both emotionally and physically - and the thought of pulling any more words out almost made her cry from exhaustion. And Miko seemed to sense that, almost as soon as Magna had first fallen silent. But then, she'd always been good at reading her.

She was observant. Like Connie.

Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, she immediately regretted the action. In the darkness, all she saw was her friend's face, disappearing into the crowd of sickos, possibly never to be seen again. Of course, Magna hadn't seen that at all. She'd kept her gaze ahead, too wary to look around and give away the disguise, but she had felt Connie's hand slip from hers, the ache of the empty space it left behind. Her imagination filled in the blanks now, even adding in a few colorful extras - wide eyes, a silent scream, falling beneath the weight of too many bodies, torn apart. Gone.

So many people were just . . . gone.

"Do you think she survived?" The words hung in the night air; foreign, distant. Magna blinked, unsure if they'd really come from her. She couldn't remember opening her mouth. But her tongue felt thick and heavy, her lips cracked, she could taste the metallic hint of blood caused by the effort.

Miko paused. Just a second, her fingers tangling in Magna's hair a little too tight, almost painful, then a breath, and she returned to smoothing it back. "You did."

"Barely. I was lucky."

"And there's no reason she won't be, too. Connie's smart, strong. She could make it."

Magna could think of a hundred reasons. A thousand.

Her stomach turned and she closed her eyes, opening them in a snap when Connie's face answered her. She trembled. "I should have stopped. I should have looked for her."

Miko didn't hesitate. "Then you'd be dead. Might even have gotten her killed as well. All for nothing."

At least, I wouldn 't be feeling like this.

Magna opened her mouth to argue but found that she didn't have the strength. She closed her eyes again, inhaling the scent of the woods, of the leaves and dirt beneath their bodies, of Miko. Especially Miko. "What the hell am I going to say to Kelly?"

If she wasn't dead.

What if they were the only ones left? Her and Miko. Bernie gone. Connie gone. Kelly gone. Luke gone. She'd failed to protect them. All of them.

And she'd thought she'd cried enough tears but her eyes burned and she rubbed at them fiercely, like there was dirt, like if she could just get it out the fire would vanish and she wouldn't crumble to ashes in its grip.

And there was Miko's voice, all at once gentle and firm, pulling her back. "She won't blame you. She knows you. You've always fought hard for us. As hard as you can. This just wasn't a situation in which you could."

Magna nearly scoffed.

No, she could have fought. But she'd gotten scared. She'd hesitated. She hated being fucking scared (small and shaking, hugging Morgan to her chest as Daddy's voice got loud, so loud, why was it so loud?). It was such a useless emotion. And now it had probably gotten Connie killed.

Miko tugged at her hair slightly, gentle but scolding. "Seriously, Magna. You couldn't have done anything. If anyone should be feeling guilty it's me."

Frowning, she turned her head in her grip to look up, a strand of hair snagged but she didn't mind the pain. "What are you talking about?"

But Miko shook her head, refusing to meet her gaze as she focused on raking her hands through Magna's hair, avoiding the knots with an ease born of years of practice. "I should have been there with you. I shouldn't have stayed behind that day."

And then you might be dead, too. Magna shuddered at the thought. Her worst fear, worse than Miko choosing to leave her, being taken from her. Forever.

And it wasn't even a what-if situation. It felt inevitable. This was the apocalypse: their expiration dates were always inching closer.

"I'm glad you did." Even though Magna couldn't see her face, she sensed her hurt, felt the flinch of her hand. "I couldn't lose you. Not like that."

Giving up on getting Miko to look at her, she settled back in her lap but kept her eyes open.

Yumiko's voice was caustic when she responded, fragile and harsh all at once. "I thought I lost you." The hand resumed its stroking, stiffer now, almost angry. "At least if I had been there I could have helped, and I would have known. I would have known if you were okay."

Not if you got out with Kelly.

But, no, Miko wouldn't have left them, wouldn't have left her. She would have seen her double back with Connie and gone after her too - like Magna, she was always watching. Maybe she would even have noticed and gone after Connie first - she was equally as protective of their group - and then Magna would have been the one left behind, to wonder, to fear.

Thinking about it, that probably would have driven her to punch Carol, too. Though her fuse had always been a lot shorter than Miko's.

Now, she snorted at the sudden memory. "I can't believe you punched Carol. I've never seen you like that." In a way, it had scared her. She was so used to Miko being the calm one, forever in control. She was the one who reined Magna in.

Okay, it had also been kind of hot. Even half-dead on her feet, she couldn't fail to notice that.

"To be honest, neither can I." There was a wry note to the older woman's tone, and Magna wondered if she was smiling, almost risked looking up again to find out. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering."

"Not like you to kick a dog when it's down."

"Not like you to be so forgiving."

She scoffed. "I'm not. Connie's gone. Probably dead and she-" Magna swallowed, collecting herself. "I'm not forgiving. I just don't have the energy to be angry anymore."

"Well that's definitely not like you." Miko teased, hesitating for a moment before severity bled back into her tone. "Are you going to be okay?"

She closed her eyes, sighed. Why was she so good? "You don't have to worry about me, Miko."

Scoff. "Another lie. I found a grey hair the other day, thanks to you."

"Oh and it couldn't have possibly been the literal end of days that we're stuck in?"

"Have you met you?" Another tug at her hair, this time playful and, for a moment, Magna could breathe easier. "Seriously, though, are you going to be okay?"

For a moment.

She shifted, hair pulling painfully but that was almost welcome. "I'll be fine. I'll be a lot better once we find Kelly and Luke."

"And Connie."

"And Connie." She wished she could feel more hopeful on that front. Miko squeezed her shoulder and she relaxed slightly, trying to push the dark thoughts away for now. There'd been too many of them tonight already. There were always too many. But just for tonight she wanted to escape them, to hide away in Miko's lap and absorb every touch, every smell, every word . . . that she had come so close to never experiencing again.

. . .

"How can you lose me? You've owned me from the first moment I saw you."

― Dianna Hardy, Cry Of The Wolf

. . .

The full gravity of the world ending fell upon Yumiko within a matter of hours, there'd been no time to trivialize or hope. Right from the start, she'd felt the impact.

Her mother had been a doctor in the old world and she'd been working a shift at the hospital when the outbreak hit the city and surrounding areas. Yumiko's stomach still turned at the memory of calling her up from the safety of Magna's apartment, her eyes trained on the insanity playing out across every news station, her heart pounding as she pleaded, pleaded for the other woman to pick up, to be alright, to-

But the phone had rung and rung. One, two, twelve phone calls later and nothing.

----

Unable to sit and wait any longer, Yumiko swiped her abandoned keys off the table and marched towards the door, ready to drive over there right that second and  make  her mother okay. She was smart, her mother was smart, and resourceful, and she'd never stopped practicing krav maga - and Yumiko would definitely come to regret refusing all those classes the woman had tried to get her to enroll in growing up but she 'd been focused on her books and her studies and all her dreams for a future that fighting never entered into-

Her mother would be  fine .

But a hand grabbed hers - strong, nails almost biting into her skin - and pulled her back. "You can't go out there."

Magna.

At some point, she 'd forgotten the other woman was even there, just whose home she stood barricaded within.

"I have to get to the hospital, my mother she-"

"Yumiko, you saw the news - hell, you just almost got your face bitten off by one of those sickos - the world's fucking lost it. " Her face took on an expression of incredulity. "And you want to go to the fucking hospital? No, no way."

Yumiko clenched her jaw, trying not to snap. "She's my mother. I  need  to make sure she's okay."

"I know, OK? Trust me I get it but . . ." she took a breath, frustrated and Yumiko could detect an air of desperation in the way she closed her eyes, pressed her lips together. "But you just, you can't, okay? They said that part of the city is already overrun and it's a  hospital . The amount of people in there,  dying  people . . . it's a death trap."

Yumiko looked away, knowing she was right but unwilling to face it. It was her  mother .

For a spiteful moment, she wondered whether Magna really did  'get it'. As far as she knew, the other woman hadn't visited her own mother since she was a child. Yumiko didn't even know if she was still alive - or if Magna knew for that matter.

"Look, I . . . " Magna shook her head. "If I thought that it could work, that we'd be able to help, hell even be able to get  in  there, I would drive you myself."

"You don't have a license." She wasn 't sure why she said it, why out of all the things Magna was saying,  that  had stuck out the most. But it was the only thing she had the means to protest.

Magna huffed. "Fine, I'd let you drive but that-that's not the point. Miko, we don't even know how to kill these things. I stabbed that guy in the neck and he barely even flinched. The dead are eating people, I can't . . ." She shook her head, lost for words. "I can't protect you from that."

Yumiko cursed the way those words made her stomach flip -  not  the time. Her phone felt heavy in her pocket, useless, and her mind was a violent hellscape, tossing up image after image of all the situations that could be keeping her mother from answering but . . .

Fuck it.

She was right.

The world shook for a moment, shaky legs almost falling out from under her as she allowed herself to sink down onto the floor, hiding her head in her hands.  She was right . The darkness made everything still and she could imagine for a moment that this wasn't really happening, that it was just some big nightmare, that-

People were fucking  eating  people, for god's sakes.  Dead  people. How  could  this be real?

There was a pause, the sound of shuffling, and she felt a stiff form settle down beside her. Hesitantly, an arm came around her, too lose, too distant, but there. "I'm sorry."

Yumiko shook her head, forgetting entirely Magna's discomfort when it came to any kind of physical intimacy - hell, any kind of intimacy in general - and allowed herself to collapse. Falling into her, she buried her head in the other woman's chest, hands coming up to latch onto the fabric of her shirt, desperate for something, anything to hold onto.

Magna flinched and her body became like a rock, rebelling at every place of contact between them.

Remembering herself, Yumiko moved to withdraw, "Shit, sorry, I-" but the arm around her tightened, keeping her in place. Slowly, she felt the muscles against her force themselves to relax as that arm found a surer purchase, pulling her closer. After a moment, she felt the slight weight of a chin coming to rest on her head, a hand coming up to find one of hers. Disentangling Yumiko 's almost rabid hold, they wrapped around her and squeezed, held tight and this-

This was better.

"Stay."

She did.

. . .

"I am your friend. a soul for your soul. a place for your life. home. know this. sun or water. here or away. we are a lighthouse. we leave. and we stay."

― Nayyirah Waheed

. . .

Magna knew that Miko's upbringing had been a fair bit more stable than hers. Parents divorced at nine, yes, but that was terribly common wasn't it? (and neither of them had tried to shoot the other.) She'd graduated at the top of her class, whilst Magna had been kicked out of three schools for fighting before her aunt and uncle had given up and stopped sending her. It wasn't a huge loss. The only classes she'd been doing well in were art and P.E. And whilst she had missed those it was a relief to get away from the taunting students and judgmental teachers.

Considering her criminal record that kept her from working at anything other than a seedy truck stop with its overly handsy customers, that had probably worked out for the best. Good grades wouldn't have been of any help to her by then.

She still laughed sometimes at the memory of Miko popping by on her shifts, how out of place she'd looked, sitting on a rickety stool behind the counter whilst Magna tended customers, still dressed in a suit from work that never seemed to wrinkle.

The pair of them had garnered more than a few looks.

But Miko had been at ease with it, picking at her fries - the only food on the menu that would probably pass a health inspection - making small talk, interjecting with the occasional complaint about Jerry, the company vulture, who kept trying to steal her clients. Magna had been confused by the attention, wary even. She'd wondered if the lawyer checked up on all her former clients like this, or if she was just a special case. She hadn't asked - she hadn't wanted to know the answer, to face the inevitable 'yes'.

A part of her had wanted to scare her off, had hated the way she got instantly on edge as soon as she saw Miko's form enter in the door, the way she felt even worse when she watched her leave out it. But another, more secret part, had been starved for company; the kind that didn't make her want to punch someone, anyway. So she'd held her tongue, and slowly let down her defenses.

Until one night, a trucker had gone to bite a chunk out of Miko's face.

It had been her turn to work the truck stop diner connected to the store, and Yumiko had been leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of too-sweet hot chocolate and conversing with her between customers. She'd just glanced down at her phone after hearing a ping and Magna had looked up at the sound, glimpsed the man lumbering closer, closer - too close.

She'd never been so glad of the quick reflexes life had beaten into her, because in that moment she hadn't needed to think. She'd shoved Miko back, a little too forcefully since she ended up hitting the ground with a smack that made Magna wince - but it was enough.

Her hand had been grabbing the knife from beneath the bench before she even registered, her arm jolting with the shock of sinking it into flesh that gave way too easily as she leapt across the counter, blood spattering against her face in a terrible sort of deja vu, her stomach turning - fuck fuck fuck - but he didn't fall, didn't scream; and then she'd grabbed Miko, tugged her up and ran, ears howling with the sound of all hell breaking loose around them. The police sirens in her head hadn't been real, she'd known they weren't, they couldn't be, not this soon, but her heart pounded in her chest from more than just adrenaline and fuck-

She'd done it again.

And just when she was finally starting to get used to freedom.

She hadn't realized until later that night, hauled up in her apartment - it had been closest and neither of them had really wanted to be alone after that - and watching the actual End of Days unfold on international television, that it had been the first time they'd touched. Magna had always kept a certain level of distance and Miko had never tried to cross it. Not until later that night, when Magna had reached out to stop her from leaving, when she'd collapsed into her arms with an ease that made Magna want to run out the door instead . . . and later when Miko grabbed her hand as she was heading to bed. It was just a moment, just a brief squeeze accompanied by a weak but grateful smile - but Magna had felt her heart try to escape her chest at that smile, at that touch . . .

It had just been a push. Barely anything compared to getting someone out of jail at least twelve years - though more likely an entire lifetime - earlier than expected. Especially when she still hadn't known that the person she'd been fighting so hard to free wasn't nearly as innocent as she'd assumed.

Somehow, the most surprising event of the night, was that Magna hadn't minded the touch, hadn't pulled away. More shocking, she'd missed it when it was gone; had felt empty each time Miko left her grasp, yearning to reach out and-

And that was when Magna had known she was screwed.

Miko told her that she'd known the same thing sometime around the third day of planning their trial strategy.

Thirteen years later and they were still pretty screwed.

. . .

"I've spent much too long in the space between staying and letting go."

- Perry Poetry

 . . .

A/N: So this story has turned out to be a lot more Magna-centric then intended and that's not because I love Yumiko any less, I just find it easier to get inside the heads of characters like Magna. I'm used to writing somewhat dysfunctional people with more than a bit of trauma (probably cos I have a bit of trauma of my own lol). You know, the loveable walking disasters of the world. She might come off a bit ooc in this and that's partly because I'm still familiarizing myself with writing her and because she's a tad bit fragile after everything that's happened, which i think we all saw in last episode - Miko is also feeling pretty fragile for the same reason. Speaking of which. What. The. Fuck. It makes zero sense to me that these two would make up but still not get back together and I'm gonna sue the writers for torture if this keeps going on. So I had to write a fix-it fic. And I also felt like there was a lot these two still needed to talk about that I'm not entirely confident the show will ever address so voila a fic was made.

Also, just gonna note going forth that Magna’s own feelings about herself aren’t necessarily a reflection of my own feelings about her character. Girl’s got some insecurities to sort through. Likewise, her judgments - good and bad - about Yumiko aren’t necessarily true, either, for the same reason. It’s one of the causes for conflict in their relationship.

So there are probably two ways to look at how these two might have noticed they had feelings for each other: a) these two idiots have been in love for 13 years and were both too chicken and oblivious to do do anything about it, or b) their love developed slowly from the bonds of friendship over a very long time. I like both options but I decided to go with the former for this fic.

The series titles is from the song You by Keaton Henson. If you're familiar with the song - my Lost Girl buddies will be - don't worry nobody is going to die! that line just really fits them so much, and it's also about accepting the fact that you might lose the one you love but that doesn't mean you should be afraid of loving them or living your life.

. . .

OK, just gonna do a little shameless self-promotion, hope you don't mind :)

I made a yumagna vid so if you haven't seen it already and you're interested it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grzrpr0QZEE (I'm gonna do more so if you want to stay in the loop subscribe to my youtube channel. I'll probs end up doing a short one for Unsteady because of this fic but I'm holding out till we get a yumagna hug)

I have an insta for yumagna called @yumagnas.home . my multifandom one is @bonnielextra (lots of awesome women that i make edits for just fyi) and my personal one is @cissyalice. Hit me up so I can follow some more yumagna stans!

My twitter is @bonnielextra and @welcometocaritas (for my edits). Currently just a lot of crying about yumagna on the first one.

And my tumblr is welcometocaritas. Obviously no pressure to look at any of these but I just thought I'd put them in just case :)

[doctorhelena]

Steggy Fic: Spies and Showgirls

I’ve written something for every day of Steggy Week 2k19! This is for Day 6 (tropes, clichés, symbols, and associations).  Previous days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Summary:   Peggy goes undercover on the Captain America USO tour.

Rating: M

Notes: Fake dating for trope day. :) This is a WIP -  I’ve written the next few chapters, but I’m not going to post them right away because I need to make sure my spy plot is coherent and I don’t want to write myself into any corners! But I will definitely be updating as soon as I can.

Thanks to @roboticonography who thought up the basic premise and let me adopt it!

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

“Well, don’t just stand in the doorway, son,” said Colonel Phillips. “I haven’t got all day.” He jerked his chin toward one of the chairs in front of his desk, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched Steve carefully cross the office. “I hear you’ve been busy trying to destroy the parts of the base Hydra didn’t manage to get with that explosion.”

“I’m getting a handle on it,” said Steve, with more optimism than he actually felt. He was still constantly underestimating both his size and his strength, and he’d damaged a truly embarrassing amount of government property over the past few days.

Phillips snorted as Steve sat down. “Well, I wish I could say your two left feet are about to be Senator Brandt’s problem, not mine, but unfortunately for me, looks like you’ll be the SSR’s headache for a bit longer than we thought.”

Steve leaned forward, suddenly alert, but Phillips shook his head. “You’re not coming to Italy.”

“But - ”

“But nothing.”

Steve set his jaw. “I can fight. I passed Basic. And the serum worked. I could - ”

“Stand down, soldier,” snapped Phillips. “I don’t care how big you are, or how fast you can recover from a paper cut, you’re not a trained agent and you’re not the army of super soldiers I was promised.” He leaned forward. “What you are is the best clue anyone has to recreate the serum.”

Steve nodded, a little warily. He’d been getting a taste of the lab rat life over the past few days, and he had to say that, given the choice, selling war bonds with the USO was starting to look pretty good in comparison.  

“Well,” said Phillips, with a monumental sigh that clearly conveyed that whatever was to follow was entirely Steve’s fault, “looks like Hydra’s interested too. Word is, they’ve managed to plant an operative in the USO company Brandt’s got you touring with. Now,” he held up a hand, “could be a coincidence, but realistically, if it quacks like a duck it probably tastes good with orange sauce.”

Steve blinked. “I, uh - ”

“We damned well can’t take the chance of Hydra getting their hands on you and recreating Erskine’s formula,” said Phillips, as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “But, knowing they’re there gives us a chance to ferret them out. Knock ‘em out and take ‘em in for interrogation before they get a chance to chomp down on that damned cyanide capsule they’ve all got.”

“I find a right hook to the jaw is generally quite effective,” said Agent Carter conversationally from the doorway, a canvas dispatch bag slung over one shoulder, a clipboard in her other hand. She smiled at Steve.

Phillips sighed and gestured her in. “Sit down, Carter. You’re late.” With her usual smooth confidence, she crossed the room and settled herself in an empty chair as Phillips continued. “You may be bigger and stronger than you were, Rogers, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t any sneakier. So, I’m sending Agent Carter here along to babysit you.”

Steve stared at her, startled, and Phillips raised his eyebrows. “I hope you aren’t going to tell me you don’t need a bodyguard, Rogers. ‘Cause I’d put money on her over you in a boxing match any day.”

“No,” said Steve, “That’s - not what I - ”

“You are not a spy,” said Phillips, “and she’s a pretty damned good one. And, like I said, I’d bet on her against most in a fight. Nobody sees her coming.”

“I know,” said Steve, turning to Agent Carter, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow, although she also looked a little like she was trying not to smile. “I don’t know the first thing about how to spot a Hydra agent. And the first thing I saw you - her - Agent Carter - do was take out Private Hodge with one punch. I just - wasn’t expecting this. Any of this.”

Phillips sighed. “Get used to it, son. Like it or not, you have a big target painted on your back.” He shuffled through his papers. “Carter’ll show you the ropes. Just do what she tells you, and for God’s sake don’t blow her cover.”

Steve found himself suddenly considering just what her cover might be, in a touring company full of chorus girls.

Phillips rolled his eyes. “If you’re hoping to see her in one of those little showgirl outfits, think again, kid. She’s going in on the administrative side, Senator Brandt’s representative.” He shuffled through his papers again and raised an eyebrow. “And, apparently, your girl friend.” He gave Agent Carter a sideways look.

“My - my what?” Suddenly it seemed very warm in the office.

Agent Carter sighed. ““We’ll need a reason to spend a great deal of time together without many questions being asked.”

“Oh,” said Steve, blinking. “That - that makes sense.”

“Don’t get used to it, son,” grumbled Phillips. “Nothing else in this damned army does.” He set his papers down, shook his head wearily at Agent Carter, then fixed Steve with a stern look. “Now, Agent Carter is in charge here. You need to follow her lead on whatever you might have to do to maintain her cover, but you need to remember it’s only a cover.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m giving her full permission to use that right hook of hers. Do you understand me?”

“I wouldn’t -” began Steve, offended.

“I don’t think it’s really necessary to -” said Agent Carter, at the same time.

Phillips sat back in his chair. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.” He waved his hand. “Now, get out of here. I’ve got packing to do.”

Read the rest on A03

[sunflowerspectre]

The Backwaters | Commission Piece

This is a commission piece for an anon. Also available on A03 Title: The Backwaters Summary: As an agent of SHIELD, Shuri’s assignment is to find and rescue Wanda Maximoff who disappeared in the backwaters of West Virginia. But her training is put to the test when the town’s mechanic Bucky takes a liking to her. Aged up! Shuri Warnings: Omega!Verse, Beta/Omega/Alpha Dynamics, OOC

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

The Backwaters | Chapter Two | Word Count: 2797

Apparently, staged car breakdowns isn't something new to SHIELD; she supposes it makes sense given their career, but it’s not something she particularly thought about until Fury gave her a specialized car. One press of a button and it kills the engine  give it a good second press, it’s back up and running.  Or something along those lines,  she just knew what button to press and when. He refused to just send her out there with a real broken down car with no emergency back-up plan to high tail the fuck out of there should it get ugly. 

Coulson is already stationed just outside of town, he gave her a somber good luck before they parted ways and she had told him the same, along with a side note to not get eaten by bears. The face he made told her that he didn’t quite think the idea of camping all the way through. She didn’t even bother to give him a little bit of comfort, just laughed before she hopped in the car.

Making her way through town, she wonders if they’re in the right spot. Hardly a soul in sight, it seems more like a ghost town than an active community. She spots a few cars, parked in otherwise empty lots and missing their drivers. It has the makings of a town, she supposes, small shops and all, but the closed doors and signs aren’t particularly welcoming. If there are people here, they’re definitely doing a great job of discouraging tourists.

There are only two places that have any sort of activity. She spots some movement in what seems to be an unmarked police department; she remembers that the town is unofficial, likely unlicensed, and unmarked on maps. She wonders if anyone in the department is the notorious sheriff from the next town over that was mentioned in the files, the famous Rodgers. It would make sense, becoming a sheriff in the place with the resources for the training before bringing it home. Especially if he’s stolen all the omegas he needs and doesn’t have room for any more.  Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Shuri.

The other activity, to her good fortune, is the small gas station that has an auto shop attached it and a bright, lit up open sign. 

Bingo. With a tight lipped grin, Shuri reaches into her pocket and feels the small discrete device that she needs. A press of a button later, the car sputters and begins to die off just as she pulls up to the service shop.  She’s not oblivious to the fact that she's the only car in the lot and despite the lit up open sign, she doesn’t immediately spot anyone inside the storefront. She can, however, hear the buzz and hammer of working tools which means she’s not completely alone.

She presses the pearls on her bracelet together and raises her hands into her hair, as if she’s just fixing her appearance in the rear view mirror. 

“I’m heading in Coulson. Sounds like there’s at least one person here in this ghost town working in the auto shop, but I’m not for certain. Could be a gang of them.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before a faint voice whispers from the bracelet, she raises it closer to her ear to hear Coulson’s voice more clearly.

“Just take it slow and easy, they have a lot of weapons close at hand in a shop.”

Shuri laughs, “Have some faith in me, Coulson. Update you when I can.”

Long legs swing out of the car as she walks into the open garage of the auto shop. She doesn’t spot anyone immediately and watches where she steps, the residue of who knows what splattered particularly everywhere. She peeks around the corner to see a man’s legs sticking out from under a raised car.

“Hello,” Shuri’s smile is bright and friendly, “Sorry to bother you, but do you think you can give me a hand? My car’s just outside in the lot, it’s completely useless, but at least it lasted long enough for me to find some help.” 

She gives a joyful laugh, eyes twinkling as the tools suddenly stop. The man drags himself out from the car in battered jeans and covered in so much grime that he’s just shy of looking like a bad fake tan. Long dark hair is pushed behind both ears, a bit greasy, but full and curling ends brush against his shoulders. The stubble on his face says he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He’s kind enough to grab a rag and wipe down his hands and his thick muscled arms that flex with each movement. 

His eyes are full of curiosity, looking her up and down as if he hasn’t heard a word she said and is instead only focused on the way her jean shorts hug her hips. Tense, she holds her head high and presses a firm hand against a swung out hip as she jabs a thumb to point outside.

“My car. Think you can fit it in anytime soon?”

His eyes snap to hers and it takes a moment before he speaks, matching her smile.

“Sorry, your accent is very… different.” His voice comes out in a unique smooth drawl, country, but not hick. “We don’t get a lot of Brits this way.” 

Shuri has been used to that reaction since she’s joined SHIELD; never from the agents, who come from everywhere and all walks of life, but always at least once on a mission from a passerby. 

“It’s nice,” he continues, “I like it.”

The statement, while not anything negative, gives her an unsettling crawl on her skin. He keeps smiling and staring just a bit too long for comfort. He doesn’t make any other movements or comments, an unnerving silence fell between them. Shuri’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes as she nods toward the lot.

“My car.” 

Her voice is a gentle reminder, causing his eyes to snap away from her, looking past her and into the lot.

“Right, right. Let’s take a look.”

He doesn’t bother asking which car in the lot is hers, she supposes he doesn’t really have to, but it still would’ve been nice customer service. She shouldn’t expect even that much in this town. At least the car is unlocked as he climbs into the driver’s seat to pop the hood, eyes darting all over the car, as if he’s trying to take in as much as he can. Aside from some luggage that doesn’t contain anything but casual clothes and a purse with a false ID, the car sits rather empty. He seems to pay a bit too much attention to the clean leather and dustless dash. She watches him carefully when he takes a few minutes too long to get out of the car and into the hood.  He doesn’t spend long digging into the hood before he pulls back, wiping his hands on the rag that’s now shoved into the pocket of his jeans.

“Your oil is pretty empty and the alternator’s shot. Engine looks like it needs a new battery.”

The battery part sounds more honest, she imagines it must look like something like that with the sudden stop of the engine. But the oil and alternator, she’s not sure just how much he’s bullshitting her and why. She could maybe believe the alternator, unsure with exactly how the car works to stop so suddenly, but if SHIELD really doesn’t have any oil in their car, she would personally pay for Fury’s next vacation.

But if this is what he’s giving her, it’s what she will work with. She knows how to play her part. She bats her eyes at him, akin to a damsel seeking a hero, and sits on the now closed hood, crossing her long bare legs over each other. She playfully swings a foot in the air, almost impatiently as if she’s unsure of what to do.

“I just bought the car, I didn’t know I needed to change the oil.” She pouts for good measure, hoping that it would take his mind off the rather empty and clean car.

It works like a charm, with him chuckling before speaking in a well honey tone as if he knows more than she does and is taking pity on her by explaining every detail. 

“Anytime you buy a car, new or not, you’re gonna want to change the oil, sweetheart. The engine may be out, considering the whole thing seems pretty dead. You’re lucky it didn’t go out on you before you got to town.”

A finger brushes against the device in her pocket, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. Luck of course. She supposes she looks rather lost, with him looking at her with that intense glare, briefly looking over her clean shaven, long bare legs. She hoped that the tiny shorts would help pass her off as a younger girl who doesn’t know much about the world, keep suspicion off, but she uncrosses her legs and stands up, almost feeling protective against his gaze. 

“I suppose it’s going to take you awhile to get it running again,” Shuri muses, “Is there any motel nearby?”

She didn’t see any motel when she was driving through town, which hurts her idea of staying in town as much as she can while the car is getting fixed and the idea of staying a few towns over doesn’t settle well with her. She wants to stay as close and personal to the town as she can.

He shakes his head. “The next motel is over fifty miles out and too long of a drive for someone without a car. You got someone you can call to get you?”

Yes. She thinks of Coulson, worst case scenario, she will have to either sleep in the car or stay out in the tent with him. But staying with him could cause future problems if someone spotted them out there together. Staying in the car wouldn’t be awful. She has yet to see a single security camera, she could always turn the engine back on at night while she’s sleeping; but that would have a higher risk of someone seeing her supposedly dead car running. 

“No,” Shuri speaks evenly, “I don’t have a phone to call even if I had anyone. I suppose I can crash in my car on your lot until morning, if it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Can’t let you do that, sweetheart. Most folks around here are friendly enough, but it still isn’t safe for a young thing like yourself to be sleeping out here at night alone.” 

He looks her over, as if he’s weighing some other option that he hasn’t voiced yet, his brows drawn. She doesn’t trust that look, but is interested to see where it’s going to lead.

“My folks have a spare room, I’m sure they’d be happy to set you up for a night or two.”

Ah yes, that wouldn’t be compromising at all, Shuri debates for a moment, but the idea of at the very least meeting other people in this town sounds inviting, “I wouldn’t want to impose….”

He whispers her words over, as if he’s memorized by them, with a twisted grin and a sparkle in his eyes. 

“I like the way you think, doll, but my folks would love to have you. They don’t get a lot of visitors anymore, especially now that I’ve moved out. My cousin stayed with them for a while until he became sheriff in the next town over. He’s back home now, decided being a sheriff here where he’s needed is better. Newly wed too, so I’m not sure if he’s been up to visit the folks too much.”

Everything about what he seems turns her stomach sideways as she realizes that the Rodgers family is definitely bigger than they thought it was, making him one of the top contenders for being a kidnapper, or worse. If there was any doubt that this Steve Rodgers hadn’t been the reason for that disappearance in the same town he happened to be sheriff in, it’s definitely gone now. It’s too suspicious that he would return home so soon after becoming a sheriff, with a wife to boot. 

She’s not sure just how ‘friendly’ his folks really are either, but if it’s the same Rodgers family, then she can’t be for certain that his mom is actually here of her own will. 

It’s risky - very risky - and she’s not sure where this man, who has yet to even tell her his name, is going with all of this or what he’s planning. She has some ideas, though, which means she’s going to have to tread carefully. But the chance to meet other people in the town, see the Rodgers family herself, and have the admittedly small chance of even catching Steve Rodgers himself, it’s too good to pass up.

“Well if you’re certain,” Shuri’s smile has a dangerous edge to it that he doesn’t catch, “I would love to.”

_________________________________

He doesn’t drive her through the town, making her tense as she watches each tree pass by them the further they go into the mountains. He doesn’t even drive her off to a farm, just a dirt road that turns more into a beaten path as they dodge the overgrowth.

He tells her his name is James on their drive, but he insists on her calling him Bucky. Apparently nicknames are the norm in the area, with everyone treating each other like family. Bucky talks as if there’s a lot of people around, and she wonders just how many. But as long as Bucky is willing to talk, she’ll milk it for all its worth. The more information she can get, the better.

“Your parents live this far from town,” she asks tentatively and curiously, not quite glancing at him as she watches out the window. 

“My entire family has lived on the mountain for two hundred years, give or take. Houses are scattered about all over the mountain, we’ve always liked our privacy. My folks don’t really leave the mountain anymore, but a lot of the family still ventures to town when needed and for special occasions. Every so often, people like my cousin may venture out of town to find themselves a good wife to bring back home.”

“Sounds a bit claustrophobic,” Shuri ventures, testing the waters of the conversation, “You make it seem like no one’s allowed to leave.”

His knuckles are tight on the steering wheel and he glances at her through the corners of his eyes, his friendly demeanor is darkening rapidly and she sees it - that look in his eyes that tell her she’s walking on thin ice. Good. 

“Nonsense, living on the mountain is about as free as you can get.” 

The rest of the drive is silent and Shuri isn’t about to risk setting him off, not when she can be so close. Besides, he’s already told her quite a bit, enough for her to start to get a good idea of what’s really going on here. It does, however, make her skin crawl as she focuses more on what his motives could be for bringing her here.

His parents, thankfully, don’t live in some backward rut like she almost expected. The house is modern, larger than she thought would be needed, with big windows. Meeting his father, she can tell where Bucky got his structure from, but he definitely has his mother’s eyes.

The night goes better than she thought it would, with it being filled with friendly smiles and polite conversations. His mother was tickled when she offered to help cook, but it was more for Shuri to at least know what she was eating and to avoid any possible chance of getting poisoned. When they sit to eat, she watches every drink poured from a fresh spout closely and is tight lipped and vague about the way they fawn over her pearl bracelet, with his father saying that ‘it’s a beautiful piece of jewelry for a good southern woman.’ 

They fuss over her all night, careful to let her win any of their card games, and complement her often. She accepts every complement with a shy smile and a carefully worded compliment in return. 

But when the night comes, after she’s lead to a spare bedroom, Shuri waits until she is sure that every living being in the house is asleep and every light is off before she looks out the window and presses the pearls of her bracelet together.

“Coulson,” her voice is soft and tense, “There’s been a little bit of an unexpected development.”

Commission Information | A03

[turnupswritessometimes]

The One With the Zombies - AshEiji - Ch15

Title: The One With the Zombies

Chapter: 15

Word Count: 5163

Description:  Another what it says on the tin from me - it’s a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren’t surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang’s leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn’t last forever and soon it’s only Ash and Eiji. And they’re up against more than just zombies.

Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

It didn’t suit Ash. The cheap suit that was too wide everywhere and made him look like he was borrowing Max’s. Which of course, he was, but no one was supposed to know that.

Ash had leant against the doorframe to the bathroom, fastening the tie and fixing Eiji a smirk that, despite the black nylon, made him duck his head to hide his smile.  

Max and Ibe had scraped enough money to move them out of a hotel and into a cramped apartment. They’d played on the refugee part, and continued to act the part of their parents. They were a refugee family – and a gay refugee family, at that.

It wasn’t great, but it was something. It was home.

“Do you think I could get a license to kill like this?” Ash asked, pushing his hair off of his face, even though he was meant to leave it down and fluffy. The goal was to look as young as possible. The younger the boy, the more sympathy they’d gain. It didn’t stop Ash from winking at Eiji.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Eiji was still smiling, his face still burning because – damn, he loved that boy. He loved looking at that boy and seeing him wink and feeling butterflies still fluttering up a tornado in his stomach.

“Yeah.”

Eiji put on his best American accent, “I think if I had one day when I didn’t have to be all confused and I didn’t have to feel that I was ashamed of everything. If I felt that I belonged someplace. You know?”

Ash tried to scowl at him. It didn’t quite work. He was grinning too much to really look angry.

“You’re a real yo-yo.” He said.

“I love you too.”

Ash had laughed and closed the bathroom door to change again. Later, Eiji wondered if he should have stood, left his book on the bed and taken Ash’s tie in his hand. If he should have been the one to change Ash out of that suit.

If Ash would even let him.

But it was the end of the suits. They gave way to pastel button ups and woollen pullovers that made Ash look like Eiji did when he was first in the city. Or, that he should go to a private boarding school. That he spent the weekends playing golf and laughing at a country club, rather than organising a gang and shooting up zombies. They made him look like Max’s son.

There was an argument about that.

“You came into the country as Aslan Lobo. What will they say if they knew we were lying?” Max had been pacing, his tie undone in his collar and only one shoe off in their hotel room. They were planning to try to sell the story, that afternoon, Eiji knew.

“We also pulled a gun on them. I don’t think the lying part will be the problem,” Ash snapped. He sat, one leg up on the bed and his arms hooking around Eiji so that he fell against him. He felt like a human shield, with Ash’s chin on the top of his head.

“It makes a better narrative – that I’ve been trying to find you all these years and now we finally know-“

“You were trying to find me because you let my brother get bitten by a zombie!” Ash was spitting like a wildcat. Eiji leant back, wrapping himself tighter in Ash as if that would appease him. There was something unspoken in that statement. A desperation for the guilt to shift. “You found us by sheer luck.”

“It’s my story!”

Eiji felt Ash stiffen around him. Or maybe he was the one that froze. They all had. It took a moment for Max to run a hand over his mouth and chin. Dark eyes flickered  to Ash.

“I didn’t mean that,” Max said, quickly.

“It’s fine.” Ash was just as quick.

“No – Ash, I’m sorry.”

“Max.” His arms were too tight around Eiji. It hurt but he hardly dared breathe. “You’re right. This is the scoop you’ve been waiting for. I’ll follow you.”

Max gave him another glance. Then breathed heavily through his nose and stared out of the window.

“Go by whatever you want.”

For a moment, Eiji wondered if Ash had planned the whole thing that way.

“I want him to know it’s me. Without a doubt that I’m the one bringing him down.”

“Hey.” There was a gleam in Max’s eye. “I said I’d let you choose your name, not take all the glory.”

And Ash’s arms relaxed. He almost laughed – Eiji could feel it in the chest behind him – a bubble trying to escape but not quite rising enough.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let you do all the talking.”

“As if you could keep your mouth shut long enough.” Max was grinning, as if the whole argument hadn’t happened. The two always seemed to switch back and forth so fast that it gave Eiji whiplash. And suddenly Ash was standing – they were leaving, because an office slightly uptown was going to hear Max’s story and that gave Eiji butterflies in his stomach. Over the last few days, Ash had been completely absorbed, rechecking facts and figures and going over law books late into the night. Sometimes he was still reading when Eiji woke up in the morning from the sunlight streaming in through their window. It was starting to come through later now, the pounding sun starting to bow down to wind as September started. Ash was obsessed with this case. Obsessed with making it sting as much as he could.

So if they got there and they were turned away…

Eiji didn’t think he could deal with the fallout.

Ash kissed the top of his head, and as he looked up, his lips too. “Will you be okay here on your own, sweetie?”

“Who said I would be here? Or alone?” Eiji smiled, and the fact that he had clearly caught Ash out made him smile wider. “Maybe I’m going out with Soo-Ling.”

Ash blinked. “Are you? Out with Soo-Ling?”

“No.” Eiji was still smiling, as he kissed Ash. “I’m going to the library – I want to Skype my family. Make sure they know I’m alright.”

“And are you going to tell them about your boyfriend?” Ash was curling his fingers in the hair around Eiji’s ear, one knee still on the bed so that he was above him.

“My boyfriend?” It was easier to tease Ash than to hesitate. To think about how he had no idea how he was going to tell his parents. There was a zombie apocalypse. And he was gay. And dating a gang leader. These things may all be linked, he wasn’t sure.

“Your boyfriend.” Ash’s fingers curled tight in his hair, and he leant forward, tilting his head in the way he did when he was going to give Eiji one of those heart-melting kisses.

But he was abruptly pulled away by the scruff of his collar.

“Come on, Romeo. We’re going to be late.”

“I prefer to think of myself as Mercutio.” Ash still had hold of Eiji’s hand, and he brought it to his lips. Eiji supposed he was giggling and blushing like a fair maid in some romantic poem. “Ah, then, I see, Queen Mab, hath been with you-“

“I thought we agreed no romantic crap in front of me.”

“The Queen Mab speech is not romantic.”

“I meant the kissing and stuff.”

“You’re just cranky because your wife divorced you!”

Eiji could hear them bickering all the way down the hallway and found himself smiling. His chest felt fuzzy – like when he was home. Sitting together in the living room or celebrating a birthday. This felt like his family.

So it was weird to sit and see his mother’s face peering into the camera. (Too close. She was sat too close.) And his sister pushing her out of the way and grinning at him. Grinning and crying. Grinning and sobbing tears of relief and joy because –

“You’re okay – you’re really okay! I can’t believe – you’re okay!”

“I’m okay.” Eiji could only smile. Smile and think that she looked young. Very young. “I’m alive.”

There was a babble of Japanese coming out of the computer screen at him and it took his ear a moment to tune into it. That made his stomach flicker with nerves. But it was just a moment, before it was back and he could try to speak over his sister, who was speaking over his mother, who was speaking over his father.

“You don’t look any different!” They were saying – was the gist of it. That surprised him.

When they had first arrived at the hotel he had caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and almost hadn’t recognised himself. He’d lost weight – lots of it – it wasn’t just that the t-shirts were baggy. His hips jutted out alarmingly and he could see his ribs. His hair was a mess – curling around itself like it was trying to turn itself into a thorn bush – and he had needed a good shave.

But it was the eyes that scared him. There was something feral in them. A glint of a wild boy. A boy who had killed zombies time and time again because he had to survive. The kind of boy that pulled a gun on customs officers.

He didn’t look the same.

And they wanted to know everything of course. Wanted to know everything that had happened to him. He hesitated over his story, over the many parts of it that he didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them to know he had chain sawed a zombie in half and quoted an eighties movie. He didn’t want them to know what he’d let his best friend do to keep him safe. He didn’t want them to know hardly any of it. He didn’t know how to tell them he was gay.

Why was that the scariest bit?

Just be glad I’m alive. Just be glad I’m alive, he wanted to say.

“So this Ash Lynx must be your best friend, no, huh?” his sister asked after an increasingly sanitised version of events.

Ashu Rinks. He could hear the way she said it.

He found himself smiling, trying to find the way to say it. To make the words on his tongue materialise into the air.

But his mom was interrupting him. Asking him a million questions about where he was staying, and was Ibe alright and what was the plan now?

What was the plan now?

He woke up when Ash wasn’t sleeping next to him. That was the only thing he could focus on.  The plan was to stick to Ash. No matter what. He wasn’t sure how to say that to him. Instead, he focused on the court stuff. Said that Ibe was heavily involved in bringing someone who had killed their friend down and that he wanted to stay there until it was over.

Eiji said he’d keep them updated, because he wasn’t sure how to say he didn’t plan to come back home.

*

Eiji started working part time in a café. He said it was because he was bored – that he was putting the money away to save for an apartment in the city – or maybe out of the city – somewhere. Somewhere with Ash. That future made his stomach flip and tumble like a salmon leaping upstream.

But for now, Eiji worked in a café, and came home smelling of coffee. And Ash relished in coming in and burying his nose into Eiji’s hair just to catch a whiff of it. Coffee and sweat from running around in the heat. That made him think of the early days of the Summer. Of the warehouse and standing outside in silence because neither of them knew what to say to each other – only that they needed to be next to each other.  For some reason it made Ash nostalgic. He missed those days. There was something simple about it – he was just a gang leader. A gang leader trapped by his past and with a bloody future ahead of him. But also a happy future. And maybe that was worth the blood.

“You smell like cigarettes.” Eiji mumbled. He wrapped his arms up and around Ash’s neck. Tired. Ash had the same aches – in the small of his back and his legs. They were so tired now.

“They published the story.” It was all he had to say for Eiji to bolt upright, to turn and take Ash’s hands in his. His eyes were glinting. “There was immediate backlash.”

“He’s going to court.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow it starts.”

“Oh, sweetie.”

Ash kissed Eiji then. Kissed him just to feel something because his face had been numb and tingling since the news, and Eiji was warm. Eiji tasted like coffee and he needed more of that, his arms wrapping around him and pulling him as close as he could. Eiji was relenting, letting him take as much as he needed. It worked both ways. In the middle of the night when Eiji would wake up in a cold sweat Ash would let him close. Would let him run his fingers over as much of Ash as he needed to, even if it made his heart panic in the dark. It was so easy for Eiji’s fingers to turn into someone else’s.

“I don’t know.” Ash said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I can go with you.” Eiji’s fingers trailed down Ash’s jumper and he loved that. He loved being touched as if he was worth something.

“You won’t be able to get it off work.”

Eiji repeated. “I can go with you.”

And Ash opened his mouth to say ‘yes, of course – please.’ His eyes were closed and his mouth was over Eiji’s. He wanted to say please – please, he couldn’t do this alone. And yet, when he closed his eyes all he could see was that face across the courtroom. Ice cold blue eyes. It was disturbing, how clearly he could see every line and twitch of him.

And how clearly he could see Eiji’s face when he had found out about it all. It had been almost worse than if he had been disgusted by Ash. There had just been so much sadness there – such deep and utter heartbreak.

Ash couldn’t make Eiji sit through it. Not for himself. He wasn’t worth it.

“No,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Eiji’s lips traced his jaw, and Ash could feel a whine forming in the back of his throat. Like a dog – a trained dog, Golzine would say. And Eiji hadn’t even meant it to be teasing – he was just too lazy to pull away and that was where his mouth had been.

His stomach clenched. He had thought it was pressed down – all pressed down so far that there was no way of him ever getting those memories back again. Ash had thought, after a month with Eiji – just Eiji being Eiji – that he’d be fine.

He made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like assent. But his hands were hovering over Eiji’s waist and he knew he had gone stiff. Was holding his breath and barely breathing.

And of course, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you alright?”

Ash made another sound, catching the back of Eiji’s head with one hand and burying his nose and mouth into it. Breathe – he needed to breathe – to smell the coffee.

“Ash?” Eiji pressed, chasing creases along Ash’s jumper with his fingers.

“I don’t –“ he knew he was probably holding Eiji’s head too tightly. But it was a lifeline, it was a way on proving to himself that this was all real. This was his life. His life was good now and he needed to move on. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”

“Do you think-“ Eiji’s fingers spread the jumper back out again. “Do you think – would it be best to talk to a –“

Ash could guess what was coming, and he felt himself stiffen. “Therapist?”

“I just…” Eiji trailed off. He eased himself out of Ash’s grip, so that he could look him in the eye. “I don’t know how to make this better.”

“It’s fine.” His stomach was clenched so tightly that it made him feel sick. “You’re fine, just being here and being you-“

“I was going to go,” Eiji said. He didn’t look Ash in the eye. Instead, he hooked his fingers through Ash’s belt loops absentmindedly. Ash put his hands over the top, peeing Eiji’s touch away like he was a clingy toddler. “We’ve been through – it’s been – scary.”

“I can go with you.”

“You can,” Eiji smiled, glancing up at him from under his lashes. “But you’ll have to wait outside.”

“Huh?”

“Maybe I’m going to talk about things I don’t want you knowing.”

“Like how much you love me?” Ash asked. He tucked a strand of hair behind Eiji’s ear and Eiji leant into the touch. He was trying to make his body go back to normal – to go back to being soft, instead of feeling stiff. It felt like he was a puppet on a string. The feeling was too similar to turning up at Golzine’s mansion with Eiji on his back.

“No,” Eiji said, softly. “I’d always tell you that.”

Ash kissed him then, because if he didn’t kiss him, he would cry. Because Eiji was too sweet, too genuine and too good to ever be with Ash. It felt like he’d dragged this boy down into blood with him.

He’d dragged Eiji down as far as him wanting to go to therapy.

“Will you think about it?” Eiji asked. His eyes were barely open and he was smiling lazily. He was gorgeous.

“Yeah. I’ll think about it.” There was no way. No way he was letting anyone pick around inside his brain and figure out just how messed up he was. No way he was going to become the case of a lifetime for some random grown up who’d gone to school way too long.

No way was Ash Lynx going to therapy.

*

Max thought it was a good idea.

Ash had grumbled it to him in the back of the uber they were taking to the courtroom. It had been easier to talk about something – anything, than sit in silence.

“Probably sensible. We can’t all act like characters on the Walking Dead.”

The suit was itchy and a size too big. He’d rolled up the sleeves like a child and now he unfolded them again, scowling.

“The zombie apocalypse was a walk in the park.”

“Not for most people.” Max leant back. He was flipping through his notebook and his hands were shaking slightly. It might have been nerves, but it was more likely to be the five coffees he’d had this morning having a side effect. “Eiji’s just worried about you. He doesn’t know the best way to help you recover.”

Ash sighed. He caught sight of the clock on the car dashboard. An hour and a half. An hour and a half before he would be sat down in the courtroom. Expected to give evidence and testify and try to bring down a Godzilla of capitalism.

And to top it all off, Max was right. He knew what Blanca would have said if he was here. That Eiji couldn’t fix him and he should stop expecting that of him. Should stop expecting Eiji to know how to deal with his menagerie of issues.

“None of this has been fair on him,” he muttered. His palms were damp. He was too hot – travel sick – needed to get out of this damn car and run –

And keep running.

“So, do it for Eiji.” Max said. He was fiddling with his cigarette pack, thumbing the lid on and off. The driver gave him a warning look.

“Fuck you, Lobo.”

“What was that?” Max cupped a hand to his ear, but he had a smirk on his face. “Thank you, Max? Thank you for always giving me good advice, even if I don’t listen and take you for granted.”

“Fuck. You.”

But Max was smiling at him. A smile that made his brown eyes twinkle and the lines around them deepen. Like a dad. It made something in Ash twinge mournfully.

“It’s good to see your nerves haven’t gotten to your attitude,” Max said.

“I’m never nervous.”

“Good.”

They were stopping, even though they were nowhere near the courthouse. A look outside the window showed a crowd of people. Citizens and journalists and photographers. Their cameras were already flashing and Ash had to turn his face away. A sea – a sea of people all clamouring about them and the case and pictures – flash – flash – flash –

He was holding his breath without meaning to. Forced himself to swallow air and meet Max’s heavy gaze.

“Good.” Max repeated. “Because I’m just about shitting myself.”

*

Pictures. There were pictures of Ash on the front of every newspaper, and most of them were bad. They were mostly glimpses of him, from behind Max. His head ducked, or the hood of his coat up, sunglasses covering his face.

Not the face. Ash had said that, when the others had gotten hold of Eiji’s camera and were mucking around with the remaining battery. He hadn’t known enough English to ask them to stop, but he also hadn’t minded that much. What was he going to take pictures of anyway? Zombies didn’t pose.

They had turned the lens to Ash and he had scowled, sticking his palm out to block out the image.

“Not the face.”

It was only when Ash had explained – had told Eiji the whole story that he understood. There was a reason Ash hated having his photo taken. So, this must have been torture. Even more torture than it already was.

But at least they weren’t allowed to film in the courthouse. A small blessing, even if almost every word was in one newspaper or the other.

Ash had taken to leaving early – way earlier than he needed to be at the courthouse, to avoid most of the reporters. So that he could slip in the back entrance with Max. He’d sneak away the moment he could – before the cameras were ready, so that he had a few seconds head start.

He’d come back late – though it got dark so early now that night seemed to last a day in itself, and fill Eiji in. As though he hadn’t been checking the news on his phone at work for any kind of update. The case was at a stand-still. Golzine’s money was starting to trickle through the cracks, slowing down any progress and verdict. It was Ash and Max that were pushing – and pushing hard. There were campaigns online for justice, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect.

The virus had spread down to Mexico and was seeping into South America. The Northern borders were contained and the official line was to wait. All transport in or out had ceased, as had any movement between the borders. Wait, was the official line. Wait for the bodies to decompose. Most in the south had already stopped becoming a threat, the zombies had gone without food in such a dry climate for so long that they had decomposed entirely. It could take four more months for the rest to do the same. No one knew what they would do afterwards – if the soil would be forever tainted by the living dead or not.

And Eiji had started going to a support group, on the recommendation of the evaluation a therapist gave him. He didn’t require intense treatment, the therapist had said – Eiji suspected it was more his empty wallet that led him there.

But it was helping. He was having less recurring memories of decaying faces and yellow eyes. He was picking up techniques to calm himself down when the images and sounds started to replay in his head. And because of that, he was able to help Ash better.

His nightmares had gotten worse. He’d wake up soaked in sweat, shivering, but too hot – much too hot. His eyes wouldn’t even focus on Eiji when he switched on the light and told Ash that it was “okay. They were here, in Toronto. Eiji was here. It was okay.”

It was too much, Eiji knew. This was too much of a strain on him, but Goddammit if Ash wasn’t going to win this case.

Ash was the one who made use of the therapist. Though that wasn’t simple, either. There was a leak in the building – the reporters knew where Ash was staying and where he was going to therapy. He left the apartment by the fire escape, looking like an undercover celebrity – in huge hoodies and shades with his blonde hair hidden. They all wanted his story, his thoughts on how the case was going and what he wanted to do – why he wanted to do it. Ash hadn’t said a word to any of them and told Eiji not to, either.

“They’re not going to want to talk to me.” Eiji had said, leaning back against Ash as he read. They had to keep the curtains closed all the time now.

But he had been wrong. He had stepped out in his barista uniform to go to work and had found lights flashing at him like fireworks, blinding him so he could hardly see straight.

“What’s your relationship with Ash Lynx?”

“How long have you known Ash Lynx?”

“Were you involved with Golzine’s sex trafficking?”

He would have stayed there, blinking at them like a stunned rabbit in the middle of the road, if Soo-Ling hadn’t been roller skating by. Within an instant, he was at Eiji’s side, and tugging him down the street.

“Hey, lay off, would ya? Go find a real story instead of bothering people!” he had snapped, and made a few rude gestures.

The questions turned to him, asking who he was and who Eiji was and honestly it seemed like they were all a hivemind. A bunch of brainwashed zombies themselves, after any scrap of exclusive material for their magazines.

“I’m the kid that’ll punch your lenses out – and I’m not fussy about which ones.” Soo-Ling stuck his tongue out at them, and kept skating alongside Eiji, keeping a hand on his elbow to keep him walking fast.

It was after that, Soo-Ling’s gang would lurk around the apartment and chase off as many reporters as they could. As soon as Yut Lung got wind of it all, his guys joined in. The apartment quickly became a hive for gang members to lounge about in, some of them creating fake leads for the reporters to follow.

Of course, Eiji’s photo had appeared in the paper – of him staring wide eyed at the cameras alongside a long piece about exactly if he and Ash were together or not. Ash had thought the photo was cute. Eiji had wrestled it out of Ash’s hands, so Ash had leapt on Eiji, fingers reaching for the newspaper clipping.

They had wrestled on the bed over it, elbows and knees jabbing at each other. Ash took advantage of how ticklish Eiji was and eventually got the upper hand, pinning him to the duvet. Eiji had been laughing, the paper crumpled up in one hand, until he noticed the way Ash was looking at him. He’d caught that look before. As if Eiji was made of light. As if he was something delicate that couldn’t be handled too roughly. A look of pure adoration that made Eiji feel as though he was full of hot, bubbly cider.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” Ash’s voice was a murmur.

It was a collective realisation that Ash was straddling Eiji’s lap. That his hands were pinning Eiji’s wrists to the messy duvet and that there was something crackling in the air. It was like a storm was brewing in the room and Eiji needed Ash to move – he had to get off because it was too much. Ash’s hair flopping down like that, and the smell of cigarettes on his skin – and that look was just too much.

“Let’s have…” Ash held the word in his mouth for way too long, letting the electricity continue to spark in the air and Eiji’s stomach hurt. “Sex. Let’s do it soon.”

He might as well have punched Eiji in the gut. But he managed to nod. To swallow and nod.

“Now?” he whispered.

Ash didn’t reply. His fingers trailed down Eiji’s arms, ghost, tracing their way down his sides and onto his hips. Slow – so slow, and Eiji was holding his breath when Ash finally reached the waistband of his jeans.

He was watching Eiji with cat’s eyes. More interested than anything else. Eiji just hoped that he didn’t look as warm as he felt. That he wasn’t literally falling apart in front of Ash just because the word ‘sex’ had been said.

Ash popped open the button of his jeans. Slid the zip down, and paused. He swallowed. Closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and took a shaky breath.

Eiji put his hands over Ash’s.

“Maybe not now,” he muttered, because he could barely think straight but he had to be there – had to be there for Ash.

“No, I can –“

“Ash.” Eiji took a breath that rattled his frame. He felt Ash’s fingers twitch underneath his. He’d never felt like quite like this. Not with Ash. Not such a need. “You think I can’t see how uncomfortable you are?”

“You think I can’t see how turned on you are?” Ash replied. His fingers curled underneath Eiji’s waistband. They froze again.

“Stop.” Everything in Eiji was telling him not to say those words. To be a little selfish and get what he wanted. But that was how everyone else in Ash’s life had been, and, fuck, he wasn’t going to add to it. “Sweetie, stop.”

Eiji hauled himself onto his elbows. He was still holding the scrap of newspaper, he realised.

“Not today,” he whispered.

Ash nodded, and swung off of him, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hands through his hair.

“It’s okay,” Eiji said, and tried to smile. “It’s okay. We’ll get there.”

Ash nodded. But then his back started shaking and he half turned to Eiji, a grin on his face.

“Do you think I should mention this in therapy?” he asked, a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

“No! Ash!”

And Eiji threw a pillow as hard as he could.

But he was laughing too.

[cruzrogue]

Enter My World

Kinda lost steam to this story… It was created because I had writers block for a gift story (Olicity FanArt/Fic Appreciation Exchange) which is called Home is a Gift and the words to this story came easier then. But I still think about it… so here is an update. I have basically the next chapter down. That next chapter will focus on Moira/Felicity (subject to change) like this one was suppose to be more focused on Tommy/Felicity but landed being more Oliver/Felicity.

It also posted on A03

Anyways I hope you like.

previous chapter 5

Chapter 6

Tommy is busy repainting one of the model airplanes his sister gave him. Red and black being the colors he prefers for this one in particular he’s working on and not the sky blue with yellow flowers. He hears the heavy footprints of his best friend entering the workshop off the garage he is using.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Liccy gave me her planes. Repainting them.”

Oliver is looks at the other two planes off to the side with one that is totally painted in different shades of pink another he actually helped paint its grey with blue patches.

“She gave you her planes. Why?”

“Oh dude, you should see her room. It’s like totally empty.” Tommy points to some boxes. “All that is from Felicity’s room. She now trying to get my mom and dad to sign off on her new wardrobe but my parents aren’t haven’t it.”

“What’s in those boxes?”

Dipping his tiny brush into some more red ink he just tells his friend, “Go look for yourself.”

Oliver pushes some boxes around and opens the lid to see some videos. Grabbing one he looks at Tommy who is intently painting slowly not to mess up. “She’s getting rid of all these movies too? She loves them.”

“Loved. Do you think I should put red on the tip of the wings or leave them black?”

“Loved?” Oliver moves to look at another box of stuff so far, he is confused he looks back at Tommy and just says, “Red tips would enhance it better.”

“Cool thanks, and I swear if I believed in pod people, I would so say she’s one of them.”

“Tommy?” Oliver’s voice has a tremble which his best bud doesn’t catch on to. “Can we talk about your sister.”

Tommy stops to now notice his best friend standing a few feet away from him looking expectant of something. “Um sure. I thought we already were?” Seeing his best friend look sheepish kind of already suggests where the subject is heading. “Is this about liking my sister?” The nod Oliver gives answers that question. “Do you still like her? Like, like her?”

“Tommy, I’ve always liked your sister, but yea I care for her a lot and your dad said somethings…”

“My dad? Okay am I the only non-pod person because this is all just weird. When did you have time to talk to my dad? You just got here.”

“I took your sister home from the party.”

“The one you disappeared from. The one your jealousy showed?”

“You saw? Why didn’t you…”

“No! I heard about it! What I didn’t know is that you had a talk with my dad. About Felicity!” His tone a little agitated. “I can deal with guys like Max Fuller, Ollie. What I can’t deal with is my best friend not respecting my wishes.”

“What about what Felicity wants?”

“Really? You, who shunned her. She isn’t your first choice.”

“Are you upset that I chose you over her?”

Tommy looks at the plane he is working on and back at his best friend. “No. I’m not actually mad at you. I’m pissed with myself. I’m the reason she’s miserable.”

“What?”

“Oliver! There are six boxes, six boxes of Liccy’s stuff right there behind you. She stayed with me the night the painters came. Made me promise not to tell anyone and she admitted to me why she really wants to change.” He sighs and admits.

“Are you going to spill?”

Tommy grumbles. “She thinks she’s a dweeb. I mean she is but that isn’t the point. The point is she thinks it.”

Oliver shakes his head his buddy isn’t being much help. “You mind if I go speak to her?”

“If she’ll talk to you. Good luck.”

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

Oliver has walked up these stairs many times. It is on the way to Tommy’s room which is across from his sister’s room. He stops at the door and he can hear blaring music. Knocking once… twice… three times and waits for acknowledgment. When he doesn’t get any, he knocks again.

“Felicity?”

The music is still blaring and he takes a moment to look at the closed door wondering if he should knock again or leave. Choosing to knock. He bangs his hand against the door and he can hear the sound playing in the room lowering and soon after the door opens.

His mouth drops at the sight. Felicity just looks surprised and says his name.

“What… what are you wearing?”

She looks down at her ensemble before looking at Oliver. “It’s a replica of the school’s cheerleading outfit. I’m going for try outs this coming week.”

“Why?”

“Why? What kind of question is that?”

“I mean.” Oliver is stumped.

“Did you knock on the wrong door? Tommy’s is that one.” She points.

“Funny!” He lets out a Ha. “I came to talk to you.” Now Felicity looks at him weird.

Figuring that it could be the noise so she asks, “Is the music to loud? I’m just practicing.”

“No. Its fine.” Oliver scratches the back of his neck. This is getting ridiculously awkward quickly. “Can I come in?”

“Um…” she looks back at the mess of her room. She nods and steps aside letting him in. “Why are you here?”

Oliver looks around her sparse room devoid of the busy sweetness he has equated to her quirkiness. “What happened in here?”

She blows air from her nostrils she doesn’t need or feel like she needs to explain herself. Especially to a boy she can’t stop crushing on even when she belittles herself for doing it. Shutting the door to her room she turns to him. “Can’t we just leave it to I’m growing up?”

“We can. But…” He thinks a little to get the right words, “Why the drastic change? Did you really give up on everything you use to love?”

“Please tell me you didn’t come here to guilt trip me? I don’t need another brotherly love advice. Tommy is more than enough!” She starts to pick up her discarded clothing around her bed.

“First, I need to apologize. You were right.” Felicity has no clue about what he is talking about and it shows on her face. “But I do think it something that can be fixed.”

“Oliver, what are you talking about?”

“About us.” He lets out a sigh, “About you and I and what we mean to each other.”

“There is no us. Tommy told me that you were serious with some girl, that you couldn’t even go to that event at the science museum so I…”

“I lied to Tommy.” Felicity makes a startled gesture. “I didn’t know how to behave around you and so I lied and told Tommy and I didn’t even think of the consequence I mean him telling you would-be worst-case scenario but…”

“You lied about seeing a hottie? You tell Tommy everything.” Felicity just can’t believe everything she thought about Oliver Queen being in a relationship could be a lie.

“That’s the thing, I told him that I liked you and the chain of events led us away from each other. Felicity, I’m miserable without you in my life.”

“That was your choice.”

“Don’t I know it.” He looks at her bed that’s holding a pile of discarded clothes. Thinking that if she gets her way, she’ll start go the route of being a carbon copy of everyone else. “Won’t the hectic schedule of being a cheerleader interfere with the math club?”

“If… It is a big if, if I can actually pull it off. I choose being a cheerleader over some stupid math thing.”

Oliver is taken back with that and without thinking he sits on her bed. The girl he has known loved all things about mathematics and the world of science. She pulled him in with how she saw the world. Now he truly is puzzled.

“When did math become senseless?”

“When your mom showed me another way. I want what your sisters have.”

“What? Why? I love my sisters but why would you want to be like them? It’s not like Emilia knows what she wants. She’s figuring it all out. She has her own passions.”

“Well at least she isn’t a dork.”

“Whatever you think my mom showed you is just a piece of any puzzle. Gosh Felicity, you have so many good traits that my baby sister is jealous of. Bet you didn’t know that.”

“Oliver! Please you want me to believe…”

“As cute as you look in that uniform.” He’s been trying not to look at her when she moving erratically in her pacing around her room. “I would really appreciate if you stop twirling its distracting.”

“Well that proves my point. My dorky clothes would never get that kind of comment.”

“Oh, you are so wrong!”

“Oliver can you stop lying to me?”

That makes Oliver finally snap. “I’m not. For someone who is changing so much don’t pretend to know me either.” That brings a silent pause. “Listen, I know you are upset with me. I’m sorry I hurt you. Really, I am. But I also can’t sit here and tell you that I like your change because it’s the dork you hate that I miss. The one who could ramble about statistics and have me eating out of her palms. You have no idea how awesome you are.”

“Then why did you stop…”

“I stopped because… because my thoughts of you weren’t…” He stresses this word out hoping she gets it. “Friendly. Your brother could see it. He was, is only interested in keeping you safe. I get that. That is why I stepped back.”

“I don’t get why you need Tommy’s permission for anything. It infuriates me.” That actually gets him to laugh. “It’s not funny.” He continues to chuckle. He figured out Tommy. Tommy placed all that stress on him to see what he would do. It’s weird. Before coming to see Felicity, his best friend told him that he didn’t think his sister would be so heartbroken. He wants her happy but he doesn’t want to see an even higher cost of his sister being hurt in the long run because after all Oliver is still a few years older and interests change.

“Have you actually seen any of this through my perspective?” The look on her face gives him the answer. “Right there is the reason. Felicity, I’m still a kid myself. It took me a few sit-down adult conversations before I knew why I held back on us.”

“You thought about us?”

“I really… really like you. I really do.”

“There’s a but there, right?”

“Yea, you might hate what I’ll say next but my mom really helped me see this.”

“Oh god, she doesn’t think I’m perfect enough!”

“What? No! That’s…” there is a solid knock on the door. Without either of them answering the door opens and both kids are surprised by who is standing in the hallway. Oliver says surprised, “Mom?”

[notforonesecond]

The Sunshine Show A03 Link

a very rushed fic based off @dorsetti‘s headcannon

“Good morning and welcome to The Sunshine Show, with me, Robert Sugden”.

Arrogance oozes out of him as the satisfied smirk that had been perfected for the cameras sits proudly upon his face.

“And I'm Aaron Dingle.” Aaron smiles through gritted teeth, the confidence radiating from Robert irritating him already and they haven't even made it to the 8 am weather update.

Their relationship is tentative, to say the least, but they are professionals and working the camera is the one thing they have in common.

“Gorgeous morning today, don't you think Aaron?” Robert eyes him sideways, corner of his mouth curled upwards as he holds his chin high, a subtle wink to add more fuel to Aaron's hatred thrown in his direction.

Aaron bites back a grunt, busying himself with shuffling the papers in front of him so he doesn’t clench his fists in anger live for half of Britain to see.

“Stunning.” He replies with a forced smile, one he had mastered since having the displeasure of working alongside Robert daily.

There was an instant dislike when Robert was hired as Aaron’s new co-anchor. He had tried his best to be welcoming on his first day, going out of his way to meet the other man and try form some sort of bond before they went on air together.

The way he sauntered in on the first day, crisp white shirt and navy tie.  The sun hitting his skin in all the right places, highlighting his blond locks and making his green-grey eyes sparkle as they connected with Aaron's. There was an excitement building in Aaron as he stood from the makeup chair, hand stretched out in front of him.

He was attractive, Aaron couldn't deny that, the twitching in his groin was evidence enough of it. He had to bite down hard on his lip when he came face to face with Robert. He followed the freckles down his cheek, eyes scanning the length of his jaw and watching intensely as his Adam's apple bobbed each time he swallowed. Aaron had to shake his mind out of the gutter.

“Aaron Dingle, nice to finally meet-”

“He can't wear that tie, I'm wearing Navy today, change it.” Robert barked, addressing someone from the wardrobe department and not giving Aaron a second glance, before turning on his heels and back out the room, leaving Aaron's stood with his jaw hung open.

“Aaron?...Aaron?”

Robert's voice brought Aaron out of his thoughts.  Eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights when he realizes he is still on air, missing his cue on the TelePrompter, zoning out during Roberts rambling of the morning agenda.

“T-that’s right Robert, don't go anywhere, we’ll be right back!” Aaron stumbles over his words, hot under the collar as the director signals for them coming off air.

“Careful Dingle, if you have another performance like that I may have to look for a new co-anchor.” Robert was smug with his words as a soft brush drew over his defined cheekbones, highlighting them as would the morning sun on an early Sunday morning, shining through the window as they lay in bed.

“Fuck off.” Was the smartest thing Aaron could conquer up as he clears his throat, the thoughts in his head distracting him from how much Robert actually irritates him.

“And then where would my eye candy be?” Robert smirks as he stands from his chair and walks out of the room, like it’s his own personal runway.

Leaving Aaron with a clenched jaw, a dry mouth and a stiffening erection all at once.

***

Their days rarely ever differ. The stories are new but their lines almost never change, neither does their relationship.

The digs from Robert are constant, daily, usually covered with a flirty smile or a wink that has Aaron clenching his jaw and his fist. The detest he has for the other man only heightens by the day, not that the public would ever have guessed.

Their days are filled with broad smiles and shoulder nudges, inside jokes that aren't exactly inside, more read off a TelePrompTer in front of them. Robert always taking the opportunity to touch Aaron's arm, or brush against their knees. Aaron imagines its a mix of wanting to irritate him and playing up to the camera, but he'd never admit that it worked, making his blood boil and flush to his cock all at once.

Robert Sugden has earned himself the title of the biggest flirt in morning TV, and Aaron would be idiotic to think their relationship is different to any other.

No matter man or woman, Robert somehow managers to have them all falling at his feet when they come on the show. He's perfected the dazzling smile with just the right amount of mischief in. Aaron knows this because he witnesses it daily. He can't help but stare sometimes, before he's reminded how vain and self obsessed his co-anchor really is, as he inappropriately pinches Aaron’s ass off camera or whispers innuendos only Aaron can hear, making him turn a slight shade of red for all the world to see.

To say life has got a lot harder since Robert Sugden has been around would be an understatement. And it's not only thing in his life that gets hard when he's around.

Today's no different, Aaron thinks as he sits in the makeup chair of the large room, a young blonde running some gel through his hair as he sits with his eyes closed, relaxing into the touch.

Roberts nowhere to be seen, and Aaron's thankful for the few moments of peace before they go on air.

There's a throat being cleared above him and he opens up one eye to take a look, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Aaron, isn't it?” The voice asks and it's so deep and soothing that it makes Aaron's eyes shoot open and take in all of the man in front of him.

He observes. A tall, tanned brunette stood in front of him, large broad shoulders and biceps that are teasing with his shirt, almost begging to be released. His toned chest is puffed out and it’s obvious he works out. Aaron swallows hard before clearing his throat, noticing the large hand pushed out in front of him.

He takes it in his own, a firm handshake follows as he relaxes into the grip of the rough fingertips.

“Ed Roberts, I’m the new Sports Anchor, it’s good to finally meet you.”

Aaron's mouth is dry, and he realizes he hasn't replied and the other man is narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Hi, uh - yeah, good to meet you. Welcome to the team.” Aaron smiles nervously under the gaze as the other man's face relaxes and he smiles back fondly.

“It's good to be here, I think we're going to have a lot of fun.” Ed smiles, before sending a sly wink in Aaron's direction and turning on his heels. Aaron's eyes scan the curve of his ass in the tight slacks as he walks away, his tongue slipping out to wet his now dry lips.

“On in 5.” He hears a loud shout come from behind him, startling him out of his gaze as inappropriate thoughts swim around his mind.

His day had just improved a lot.

***

“Right, let's take some calls.”

Aaron smiles into the camera as Robert follows the TelePrompter. Dazzling smiles, all porcelains teeth and meeting to their eyes and mostly faked.

It had been a long morning, they were doing a segment on modern dating and had been discussing the latest dating apps in comparison to traditional dating and Aaron isn't the slightest bit interested.

Robert had yet to wind him up this morning, the two of them surprisingly getting on and laughing along to the dating horror stories they had been sent by fans.

“We've got Brenda on the line, are you there Brend?” Aaron asks politely as he adjusts his ear piece.

“Hello, boys.” The elderly voice comes over the speakers in the studio, both men smiling more out of habit.

“Hi, Brenda.” Robert smiles warmly as he tries to bite back a laugh, a nudge of the knee towards Aaron. The woman sounds like she's closer to 90 than 19 and Robert’s about to ask her about online dating.  “So what are your opinions on Modern dating? Any horror stories?” He proceeds, as he hears Aaron snigger a little next to him before composing himself into his professional manner.

“I don't understand it all you see my dear, I think it's a waste of time. You need to meet someone and see if there's a spark there, you can’t do that over a blooming phone.” The elderly lady argues over the phone and Aaron can help but chuckle before he speaks.

“I think you're right Brenda, you never know who you're talking to online.” He replies smiling into the camera.

“There needs to be chemistry there. Like you two lads, I can almost feel the spark through my TV with you two lovely boys.” She rambles on and Aaron almost chokes on the water he was about to sip, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the eyes of millions. He sits up straighter before scratching behind his ear. “Uh-” he shuffles some papers in front of him avoiding the camera as he opens and closes his mouth.

“Well thanks, Brenda, we make a good team don't we.” Robert chimes in, saving Aaron from the embarrassment as he flashes a grin towards him and squeezes his shoulder before turning back to the Camera. “Thanks for your call Brenda.”

Roberts still smiling, more smugly now as introduces the morning weather, professional until the very second the cameras off.

There's a fit of laughter as soon as the On Air sign switches off and he almost falls into Aaron's side as his head lands on his shoulder. “Your face - was - priceless.” He gasps between fits of laughter and there's something about how his eyes shine with glossy tears and they crinkle from the laughter that has Aaron smiling back, feeling less annoyed by the second. Roberts happiness radiating off him like rays of sun.

“Who's idea was it to take a call from a 90-year-old about online dating?!” Aaron laughs back, caught up in the moment between him and Robert as the makeup team being to pile in and fix them up for their afternoon segment.

“Whoever it was, I wanna buy them a pint, it was worth it just for your face alone.” Robert’s slapping his knee in amusement as he glances at Aaron from the side, a small brunette running gel through his hair.

“Shut it you.” Aaron nudges Robert in the side as their laughing dies down, turns to fond smiles as their gazes linger a little longer than they should do.

Robert's mouth opens, closes then opens again like he’s thinking of the right words when..

“Aaron.” There's a deep, husky voice coming from the side of the studio and Aaron's head is whipping round to find it.

Robert closes his mouth, Aaron misses the disappointed look on his face.

“Hey, Ed.” Aaron’s smiling as he stands to greet the other man, swaying slightly on his feet.

“So, you wanna grab that drink tonight?” Ed smiles back coyly, as his body sways in sync with Aaron's, his head cocked to the side.

“Uh - Yeah, meet me out front when we're finished?” Aaron suggests, biting his lower lip.

“Perfect.” Ed beams, before jogging back to where he needs to be.

Aaron stays standing as he watches him leave, a heat rising in his cheeks.

“Seriously?” Robert's voice startles him, forgetting the other people in the room momentarily.

“What?” He asks, sitting back in his seat and avoiding Robert's eyes.

“He’s a muppet.” Robert replies matter of factly, hand out in front of him.

“You don't even know him.” Aaron defends as he begins to get frustrated at Roberts input.

“Whatever.” Robert mumbles under his breath as the director starts to count them in for the next segments.

Aaron keeps his eyes on Robert, his shoulders slumped and a scowl on his face and if Aaron didn't know better he could swear there was a hint of jealousy in Robert's voice.

***

Drinks with Ed could only be described as one word. Nice.

Aaron had racked his brain to come up with something more.. exciting but all he could think was *nice.

It had been just the two of them, chatting and smiling in a small corner bar not far from the studio. Aaron enjoyed himself, although his mind was somewhere else.

Even when Ed had smiled his big pearly whites, even when his large hands came up to rest on Aaron's biceps and he fell into the pool of deep brown eyes he still couldn't shake it.

He couldn't help but think about the way Robert had reacted earlier on that afternoon. It wasn't exactly new for Robert, for him to be an ass and judge people prematurely, but there was just something about the way he said it that had the hairs on Aaron’s arm stand up and a fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

He went home alone.

Ed ever the gentleman walking him to his doorstep before a kiss on the cheek and a wave of the hand.  

Aaron cursed, thinking the distraction would do him good, instead he ended up in his apartment alone with a few open beers and only his right hand for company.

It wasn't his greatest idea.

As 6 am comes around and then pounding in his head and the dryness of his mouth screams mistake.

It takes  all his strength to clamber to the bathroom, shower and try and make himself look slightly presentable. He was thankful there was a team of expert makeup artists on hand ready and waiting for him.

He catches Robert's eye when he enters a few minutes after him, sitting in the makeup chair directly facing him, avoiding his gaze. Aaron watches as he flirts with one of the small blondes who's passing him a cup of coffee before running off at the sound of her name and Aaron rolls his eyes at the sight. Back to being an asshole then he thinks.

There's no sign of Ed so early in the morning and Aaron's actually quite thankful of that, would rather do without the awkward Hellos this morning.

The producer rushing in, ready to prepare everyone for the morning once makeup is finished. She gathers everyone together, Robert and Aaron standing side by side, shoulders brushing, it sends a shiver down Aaron's spine but Robert doesn't seem to flinch by the Interaction as their fingers graze. Still refuses to meet Aaron's eyes

“..and we have the charity basketball team in at 9, Aaron, Robert, you'll be taking part In a game.”

Aaron catches the last end of the briefing, his stomach turning at the thought.

“Basketball?” Aaron questions, his face paling at the word.

“Yes. We're doing a segment on the children charity team to help raise money, you are going to play around with them, at least try and look like you're enjoying it.” She directs the last bit towards Robert before turning on her heels. Aaron can't help but grimace at the thought of a bunch of kids running around him with a heavy ball in his hungover state.

He sighs, regretting drinking at all last night as they head for the studio, Robert still silent.

The morning segment goes swimmingly as usual, Robert and Aaron plastering on their winning smiles and reading their lines like the professionals they are.

They're getting their makeup topped up during the ad break. Their jackets are coming off and ties loosening in preparation for the activeness of the next part, and Aaron can't help but let his eyes linger on Roberts large hands as they pull at the thin pink tie around his neck. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he imagines what it would be like for his own hands to be undressing Robert, what it would feel like to touch his toned chest.

“Looking a bit pale their Dingle.”

Robert's voice startles Aaron out of his inappropriate thoughts, he swallows hard and tries to regain his composure.  

“Not feeling great, that's all.” Aaron shrugs, a bead of sweat building on his brow as he focuses hard on not throwing up all over the studio.

“Scared of getting beat by a bunch of kids.” Robert smirks, his cocky demeanor back in full force now and Aaron can't help but let out a little chuckle at the man in front of him, a warmth in his chest before they’re Interrupted by the team of kids running into the studio.

It's as bad as Aaron expected. Worse.

They split into two teams and play a small 4 on 4 March in the studio built the court, him and Robert on opposite teams.

Roberts team wins, obviously.

He finds himself hunched over, breathing heavy and sweat staining his white shirt as he focuses on not throwing up all over the small children.

He stands a bit straighter, not wanting to look completely ridiculous on camera.

Robert’s celebrating with his team, he has the smallest player up on his shoulders jumping up and down as the other two smile widely at him, all cheering. It's a sight Aaron never thought he would see, a sight that warms his heart.

He watches on, as Robert congratulates all the small player, smiles, hugs, high fives. They're all smiling largely at him, eyes full of admiration and Robert’s got an almost soft look on his face that Aaron has never saw him wear before. He can't help but stare.

They're off air now, the adverts in full swing as the children run off to get cleaned up and the makeup artist comes barging in with towels and matte powder.

Robert makes his way over to Aaron, soft smile still on his face, Aaron's probably wearing the same one as he looks admiringly at the man in front of him.

“You were great with them.” He exhales, it's almost like word vomit as he diverts his eyes quickly at how soft he might sound.

Robert just smiles shyly, scratches at his neck before standing up straighter. There's a tension building between them and it's pulling them closer, almost magnetic. He opens his mouth to reply but Aaron’s names being called again and they're both looking behind him towards the culprit.

Robert can't help but roll his eyes as Ed comes walking over in his pristine suit and green tie, a large grin on his face. It's becoming a habitat.

“Alright?” Aaron's smiling, but his face is laced with disinterest and he throws a cautious look towards Robert before turning his whole body towards Ed.

“You were great.” He smiles supportively and Aaron holds back a scoff, know he's just being nice because he really wasn't. He spent most of the match out of breath stood by the net and he's pretty sure one of his own teammates stepped on his foot on purpose.

“Thanks.” Aaron mumbles out and he can't help but notice how fresh Ed looks in comparison to how bad Aaron feels.

“Look I've gotta go, I'll catch you later.” Ed’s saying as he's jogging back to his post and Aaron doesn't bother much with a goodbye, instantly turning back to Robert.

He catches him slumping off, towards the other side of the studio, head bowed and silent, and Aaron has the biggest urge to call his name.

“Rob?.” He calls, in attempts to get the other man's attention, but it fails.

“On in 2.” The producer is shouting, shoving Aaron in the direction he needs to be.

There's a scowl on Roberts face for the rest of the day, silence takes over them other than the words they have to read off the TelePrompTer and Aaron can't help but feel disappointed, empty almost.

****

The silence lasted days, it was deafening and eerily.

Aaron never thought he'd be missing Robert’s constant smirk or annoying tints but he was, the days felt empty without them and it was all becoming too much.

Aaron's had enough, was sick of trying to coax a conversation out of Robert, was sick of his smile disappearing the second the camera was off. The urge to reach over and touch him is becoming unbearable and he needs answers.

He’s fidgeting in the makeup chair when Robert comes in early that morning, eyes glued to the floor to stop him from connecting with Aaron's.

That's all it takes to make Aaron's blood boil, fist clenching as he stands to make his way to the studio, closely behind Roberts.

Everyone's making their way out of the dressing room when Aaron takes a fist full of Robert’s jacket, pulling him back and pinning him to the wall to stop him from escaping.

Roberts' face is a mixture of confusion and Aaron as an arm pushing against his chest, jaw clenched and seething.

“Aaron, what the fuck?” Robert’s asking pushing Aaron away.

“You going to tell me what's going on?” Aaron questions, eyebrow raised and eyes narrowed.

“I don't know what you're on about.” Roberts feigning confusion as Aaron's hand finally drops from his chest.

“Have I done something to offended you?” Aaron's asking more seriously now. He watches as Robert’s face drops, eyes looking sad before it's gone  within seconds and replaced with a mask.

Robert scoffs, tries to move out of Aaron's gaze but there's an arm coming up and slamming next to his head, Aaron blocking him in again.

“Rob.” Aarons voice is soft and quiet, his hand comes up to Robert’s chest, more gentle now and their eyes are connecting for the first time in days, it almost makes Aaron forget to breathe.

Robert’s eyes dart from Aaron's own baby blues to his lips and the back again before he opens his mouth to speak. There's a stutter, a fumble over his words and he's fighting for what to say as they breathe in each other, noses almost grazing, terrifyingly close. The hair on the back of Aaron's neck stands to attention as Roberts breath tickles his lips.

“WHERE ARE MY NEWS READERS WE’RE ABOUT TO GO LIVE.”

They're getting dragged onto set, pushed into their seats as the director is counting down from 5 in front of them and their lines are coming up on the screen. Aaron's heart is racing, pumping fast in his chest as he remembers the way Robert had just looked at him, with so much want and hope.

There's so many questions, so much unspoken but what was there is evident and Aaron can't deny it anymore.

He can't think straight, his heart is pounding and his hands are sweaty as he wets his lips, chances a glance at Robert whose eyes are firmly towards the camera, not daring to look at Aaron.

Aaron shakes his head, the on air sign is flashing red in his face and he tries to regain himself, get control of his feelings before he reads his prompt, opening the show.

“Uh- Good morning and welcome to The Sunshine Show, I'm Aaron Dingle.” Aaron exhales deeply, plastering on his smile for the cameras as he waits for Robert to take his cue.

There's silence. Aaron turns towards Robert, the producer is hissing something about missing his cue but Robert’s just staring at Aaron ignoring everyone else in the room.

His eyes bore into Aaron, making him feel nervous and excited and something else that he can't put into words and it takes everything in Aaron not to grab hold of Robert there and then.

“Robert.” Aaron hisses, head nodding towards the camera and the room of people waiting on him as millions watch live at home.

Robert doesn’t speak, he just lets the corner of his lips turn into a smile, his eyes never leaving Aaron’s as darts forwards.

Within seconds his hands are on Aaron’s face and they're pulling him closer, lips taking Aaron's hostage and sucking on them lightly.

Aaron’s motionless at first, before he gives in, sinks into the kiss that makes him feel lightheaded. It's like nothing he's ever experience and the only thing that reminds him they have an audience is the countless gasps that fill the studio as they break apart. Foreheads touching and noses grazing, eyes never leaving each other.

Aaron lets out a breath, it's hot and wet on Robert’s lips and both of them smile before there's a throat clearing in front of them.

They break apart, cheeks tinged red and breathless as they turn towards the camera.

The on air sign is big and red reflecting onto their faces as the crew stand gobsmacked with wide jaws.

Robert smirks, as he catches Ed in the corner of the room wearing the same expression as he leans over into Aaron’s ear and whispers.

“At least we make good TV.”

[flowerfan2]

Close To You - 2/11

Stucky, 6k, M, A03

Although Steve and Bucky are finally in the same place, they aren’t as close as they would like.  This is a story about how they heal.

Chapter 2

Despite the seemingly encouraging turn of events brought about by Steve’s decision to kiss Bucky good night, it’s two steps backwards the next day.  Bucky can tell Steve is frustrated by his lack of progress.  

“Thought I had it licked,” Steve grumbles one night, after a long evening where too many Avengers drank too much whiskey and each felt the need to slap Steve on the back repeatedly in an effort to get him to join in the fun.

 “I don’t think it works that way,” Bucky replies, pouring them each a glass of ice water.  

 “Do you think I should tell them?”  Steve is leaning against their kitchen counter, tension pulling his shoulders tight.

 “Not my call.”

 Steve scoffs.  “Didn’t ask you to make the call.  Asked if you thought I should tell them.”

 Bucky weighs his options. Be truthful, and risk Steve taking his advice and then regretting it.  Or refuse to give his opinion, and make Steve angry – and possibly give him a reason to keep sacrificing his own comfort for his misplaced view about the good of his team.  Better go with truthful.

 “Yeah, I think you should tell them.”

 “They’re gonna be mad I didn’t say something sooner.”

 Bucky shrugs. “Maybe.  But it won’t get better by waiting.”

 “What if…” Steve turns away, sighing and running his hand through his hair.  “They all think I’m so perfect.”

 Bucky laughs, and Steve glares at him.  “What?” Bucky asks.  “They aren’t going to think any less of you because you’ve got trauma.  They’ve all got trauma – it’s practically a requirement for the gig.”

 “But I’m their captain,” Steve says seriously.

 It’s not a joking matter to Steve, and Bucky knows it.  But hiding isn’t doing their team morale any good either.  “You ever thought maybe it would be a good thing for the team? Bring you – us -  closer together?”

 Steve frowns at him. “How?”

 “Maybe it’s time they understand that you’re only human, too.  You’ve got flaws just like they do, even with the super serum.”

 “Flaws, huh?”  Steve says, looking hurt.

 “That’s not what I meant,” Bucky breathes out, cursing himself.  “Issues, or-”

 “No, you’re right. ‘Cause if not being able to hold you in my arms isn’t a flaw, I don’t know what is.”

 Bucky feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and he gazes wordlessly at Steve. He’s about to make some comment about how the conversation had taken an unexpected turn when Steve launches himself at Bucky and wraps his arms tightly around Bucky’s shoulders.

 Bucky’s frozen, barely registering Steve’s face pressed against the side of his own, and Steve breathes out a shaking laugh.  “Christ, Buck, hug me back already.”

 Bucky complies, and Steve sags into his arms.  Bucky’s over the moon, and he can’t keep it inside any more.  “God, I love you, Steve.  I love the hell out of you.”

 Steve shivers, and tightens his hold on Bucky.  “Love you too, Buck.  Always. Always.”  Steve pulls back slowly, and runs his hand down Bucky’s metal arm, giving his hand a squeeze before he lets go.  “That felt really good,” Steve says slowly, meeting Bucky’s eyes.  “Thanks.”

 Bucky nearly giggles. “Anytime.  No thanks necessary.”

 *****

The next day, just as the Avengers are standing up to file out of the conference room after an entirely overlong discussion of training goals, Steve clears his throat.  

 “Um,” he says, and freezes.

 Clint grins and gives Steve a hard pat on the back.  “Spit it out, man.  Didn’t you hear?  Tony’s bringing in burritos for dinner, from that place that makes the spicy pineapple salsa.  We haven’t got all day.”

 Steve cringes, and Bucky’s heart goes out to him as the silence continues.  But he’s got the Avengers’ attention now, especially Bruce, who is sending Steve an encouraging look.  Natasha seems to understand that there’s something wrong, and she shoves Clint out of the way, putting a hand on Steve’s arm.  Of course, that doesn’t help.

 “Steve, maybe you should…” Bucky trails off.  He’s not sure what he was going to suggest – do it by text message?  

 “I’m fine, Bucky,” Steve grumbles.  “Look, it’s not a big deal,” he says to the group.  “I just… I’d like it if you guys didn’t touch me so much.”

 Natasha yanks her hand away from Steve’s arm as if she’d been burned, and everyone takes a step back.

 “Are you contagious? Did the super serum stop working? That’s it, isn’t it?  Do we need to quarantine you?”  Tony asks.  “‘Cause that’s no problem, I’ve got a whole spare apartment you could move into, was saving it for Thor but he always stays with Jane, just say the word and it’s yours.”

 Steve sighs, as the need to deal with Tony snaps him back into captain mode.  “I’m not sick.  I’d just rather you not touch me.  It makes me… anxious.  But I’m working on it.”

 There’s a long beat.

 “All this time, you couldn’t have told us, Steve?”  Natasha’s voice is soft, more hurt than accusing.  

 “I’m sorry.”  Steve opens his mouth as if to continue, then just shakes his head and walks out of the room.  

 Everyone’s head swivels to Bucky, as if they expect him to explain.  But there’s nothing he can say.

 “You knew, didn’t you?” Tony finally asks.  “It’s why you’re always so twitchy around Cap.”

 “I’ve known Steve for a long time,” Bucky says.  He thinks these people forget that, sometimes.  For all their teasing about Steve being an old man, they forget that Bucky was there with him.  That they’ve both been marched into the future unwillingly, if by different means.

 “Tell us what to do,” Clint says.  “We didn’t mean to upset him.”

 Bucky looks at Bruce, who gives him a nod and speaks up.  “You don’t need to do anything special.  Just stop the casual touching.  Give him a little space.”

 “No more movie nights?” Tony asks.  “We could Skype him in.  We could all Skype in.  I could come up with a better system, the audio never works the way it should.”

 “He doesn’t want to be alone,” Bucky says.  “He likes you guys.  Just maybe cut out the back slapping and shoving.”

 “I should have picked up on it,” Sam says, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I’ve known lots of guys that feel this way.  Shit.  I’m a shit friend.”

 “Don’t feel bad about it,” Bucky says.  “Just fix it.” He leaves the room and bounds up the stairs, looking for Steve.  

 He’s not in their apartment, so Bucky sends him a quick text.  <i>Where are you?</i>

 There’s no answer, and Bucky paces the apartment for a few minutes, then sends another message. <i>You don’t have to come home now.  I’m not bugging you to do anything.  Just want to make sure you’re okay.</i>

 Steve responds quickly. <i>I’m fine.  Taking a walk.  See you later.</i>

 *****

It’s two weeks before Tony suggests another movie night.  Steve accepts first, announcing on the group text that he expects everyone to be there. Bucky knows Steve’s trying to project confidence, but Bucky can tell he’s nervous; before they head over, Steve changes his shirt three times and fusses over his hair.

 Bucky’s not sure why this night is stressing Steve out so much – they’ve seen the Avengers plenty over the past two weeks, for meetings and even a tedious mission that involved six hours on the plane for only one on the ground – but he realizes why as soon as they get in the room.  Without a job to do, Steve is adrift, somehow even less comfortable with his team than he used to be.

 He sees Sam approach Steve near the bar, keeping a healthy distance between them, and start speaking to Steve in a quiet enough voice that even with Bucky’s enhanced hearing he can’t hear the words.  But it must work, because Steve’s shoulders relax just a little, and Sam gives him a wry smile.  

 Finally the two of them come over to the couches, Steve sitting in the corner of one, Sam taking the opposite chair.  Natasha is about to join Steve, but she pauses as she passes Bucky.  “He feels more comfortable with you next to him, doesn’t he?”  she asks under her breath.  

 Bucky nods. “Yeah.”  There’s no need to beat around the bush anymore.  Bucky sits down in the space next to Steve, and Natasha curls up in the corner on his other side.  

 As the evening progresses, everyone loosens up.  By the time they’re watching the second movie, even Steve seems to be settling down. Bucky’s hand is resting on the couch between them, and when Steve slides his hand over and wraps a finger around Bucky’s pinky, he knows the night is a success.  

 *****

The next day Steve comes back to the apartment after a meeting with Coulson, and frowns as he opens up his laptop and pulls up a file.

 “Take a look at this,” he says, showing Bucky a memo with “Avengers Eyes Only” stamped across the top.

 “This what Coulson wanted to talk to you about today?”  Bucky asks, scanning the document.

 “Yeah.  He wanted Natasha to go with me, but I told him it should be you.”

 The memo outlines the shady behavior of a very prestigious financial management firm, headed by two women with extremely well camouflaged ties to what may be a former HYDRA cell.

 “He really thinks these two are HYDRA?”  Bucky asks. “They’re some of the most successful women in the U.S.  Weren’t they in the news recently?”

 “Yup, when their book became a best seller.  Something about an update on ‘How To Win Friends and Influence People.’”

 “With evil, apparently,” Bucky grumbles.  “Beats out honestly every time.”

 “No, it doesn’t.”

 Bucky looks up at Steve, who is frowning even harder.  “I didn’t mean it, pal.  Just seems that these guys don’t ever learn.”

 “So we’ll teach them.”

 Bucky tries not to grin at Steve’s earnestness.  It’s part of what Bucky loves about him, after all.  “I’m in.  So – why me?”

 Twenty-four hours later, Bucky and Steve have both had a crash course on the latest accomplishments of the two titans of finance, and are on a quinjet heading for Washington, D.C. There’s a lavish party being thrown to celebrate the success of the women’s book, and Coulson thinks it will be the perfect opportunity to get close to them without arousing suspicion.

 Steve will be playing himself, a national icon seeking advice on how to invest the buckets of money in back pay he accumulated while in the ice, as well as the hefty stipends he’s been receiving for his work in defending the free world since then. Coulson believes the women will jump at the chance to be able to say they have Captain America as a client, and had no trouble getting a ticket for Steve and a plus one.

 The trick, however, will be setting up an opportunity to extract information from them about their possible HYDRA connections.  Coulson’s informant has noted that one of the methods the two use in negotiations is to always stay together, one of them constantly monitoring the ways anything can go wrong.  Coulson had wanted Natasha to go along as Steve’s date, and lure one of the women away from the other.  But a better approach had seemed obvious to Steve.

 “You sure this is going to work?”  Bucky asks, smoothing his hands down his suit jacket.  It’s without a doubt the most expensive piece of non-armored clothing to ever have touched his skin.  Tony claims it’s a spare he just had sitting around in his closet, but Bucky doesn’t think even Tony has an extra Tom Ford suit tailored to Bucky’s measurements just gathering dust.  

 “Are you kidding?  You look like a million bucks.”

 “But having me as your date…”  Bucky’s run this over a dozen times since Steve told him the plan yesterday, and he still doesn’t know how to say it without putting his foot in his mouth. “You sure you want to…?”

 Steve stills, glancing quickly up to the front of the plane where the pilot is starting to get ready for their descent.  “Do you not want to be my date?”

 Bucky’s heart pounds in his chest.  “Don’t go turning my words around on me.  That’s not what I said.”

 “Say what you mean, Buck.”

 “Okay, fine.  This how you want to come out?”  Bucky doesn’t really care about the world knowing about his own sexuality – no one seems to pay him much attention, anyway – but people have certain expectations of Steve.

 Steve squares his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest, defensive.  “I already came out.”

 It had been a brief mention in an interview months ago, and had quickly been overtaken in the news cycle when a B-list celebrity’s emails got hacked and it was revealed that he was spying for Russia.  

 “Saying it and showing it are two different things.”

 Steve turns away from Bucky, straightening his uniform.  He’s in full stars and stripes, shield and all.  It’s not the most elegant outfit for a black-tie event, but apparently their hosts had requested it.   “Like I told Coulson, we don’t have to say anything about… us.  Having someone as your plus one doesn’t necessarily mean you’re romantically involved. And if Nora and Catherine are curious about it, that can only help with the mission.”  Steve sighs and turns back to Bucky.  “If you were uncomfortable with this, I really wish you had said something earlier.  But I can call Natasha, she can probably be in the air in less than an hour-”

 “Steve, I’m not uncomfortable with the mission,” Bucky finally blurts out.  “I’m fine.  I just want to make sure you’re okay.”  He reaches for Steve without thinking, and the flinch he gets in return as his fingers brush Steve’s arm only make the whole thing more miserable.  “Sorry, I’ll…”

 “No, it’s okay, I’ve got to get ready for it, anyway.”

 “For it - for me to touch you,” Bucky says slowly, pained.  “So you can be prepared.  Act like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t make you sick.”

 Steve meets his eyes, realizing what has Bucky so distressed.  “No, no – crap.”  Steve frowns, then reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand in his own.  “It does <i>not</i> make me sick to touch you.  I swear it.”

 Bucky searches Steve’s eyes, and sees only sincerity.  But he can also tell how hard Steve is working at keeping his hand steady, so he gives him a squeeze and pulls away.  

 Steve looks down, crestfallen.  “Not sick. Nervous.  Happy.  A little shaky, depending on the situation.”  He raises his head and holds Bucky’s gaze.  “Not sick.”

 “Okay.”  But the lump in Bucky’s throat won’t go away.

 “Hey,” Steve says, reaching up to adjust Bucky’s tie, his face achingly close to Bucky’s.  “Let’s not touch at all at this shindig.  That way I won’t be pretending with you.  Not for a minute.”

 It seems ridiculous, but the idea actually makes sense to Bucky, and he can feel some of his tension fade away.  “But – then what about your plan?  Won’t they wonder why we’re not more obviously together?”

 Steve shrugs, a mischievous smile on his face.  “Let ‘em wonder.  Anyway…” he waggles his eyebrows and quite obviously looks Bucky up and down, “I think you’ll be distraction enough.”

 Bucky laughs, a warmth spreading through his chest.  “Don’t flirt too hard, you’ll break something.”

 “Not a chance.  Super soldier, remember?”

 Bucky flutters his eyelashes and grins at Steve.  “How could I ever forget?”

 The mission goes well, better even than they had imagined.  Nora has her eyes on Bucky from the moment they enter the room, and whisks him away to dance while her dark haired business partner works on convincing Steve to invest his money with their firm.  Bucky catches Steve watching them so often he starts composing lectures to Steve with the part of his mind that isn’t occupied with keeping Nora entertained, mostly of  the “I can take care of myself, stay in your own lane” variety.

 But when he and Nora join Steve and Catherine at the bar after a slow dance, Bucky gets a closer look at Steve’s face as he turns to offer a stiff greeting to Nora.  He recognizes Steve’s expression as one he hasn’t seen in a very long time.  Steve Rogers – Captain America, every beautiful muscle of him – is jealous.

 Back on the jet, once they’re in the air, Steve quickly runs down what he learned.  Coulson wants the information as soon as possible, so they do a quick debrief over a secure line.  As hoped, in the course of convincing Steve to give their firm his money, Catherine had spoken about the many people who she had advised over the years, including some names that were definitely HYDRA adjacent.  It was exactly what Coulson needed to keep the investigation going.

 That task done, Steve makes an offhand comment about how much Nora enjoyed Bucky’s company. There’s a bitterness there that bothers Bucky.

 “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

 Steve looks surprised to be caught out, and then chagrined.  “Sorry.  Got no right to be.”

 Bucky frowns.  “What’s that even supposed to mean?”  

 Steve just shrugs and goes up to the front of the jet, ostensibly to help the pilot with something. Bucky knows he’s just avoiding him, and he doesn’t like it.  But he’s been up forever, and if Steve is going to be a pill, he might as well get some sleep.

 Bucky takes off his suit jacket and sets it carefully on the seat next to him, loosens his tie, and stretches his feet out, ankles crossed in front of him.  He knows he looks good… he’s tempted to watch to see if Steve checks him out, but Steve is decidedly paying attention only to their flight plans, so Bucky lets his eyes fall closed.

 He’s almost dozed off two or three times when he opens his eyes to find Steve standing in front of him, an indecipherable expression on his face.

 “Can you help me with this?” Steve asks, tugging on the straps of his shield harness.  “I think one of the straps is twisted.”

 Bucky nods and stands up, going behind Steve to check the buckles pressed firmly against the center of his back.  One of the straps is indeed twisted, and just as Bucky starts to straighten it out, the plane bumps in a bit of turbulence and Bucky jostles up against Steve, both his hands going to his shoulders, his hip bouncing off Steve’s side.

 “Shit, I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay,” Steve replies quickly.

 “Hard to do this without touching you, sorry.”

 Steve lets out a shy laugh under his breath.  “That was kind of the point.”

 Bucky freezes, his fingers still wrapped around the harness straps.  He wants to ask for clarification, wants to make sure, but it’s not as if he didn’t hear Steve loud and clear.  Maybe Steve needs him to trust him on this.

 “Okay,” he says calmly, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  The harness is fairly simple – a loop around each arm, meeting in the back in a metal bracket that holds Steve’s shield.  Bucky traces his hands around the leather around Steve’s right arm first, making sure it is lying flat, then rests his right hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder as he does the same with the strap around Steve’s left arm.  

 He’s right up against Steve’s back, reaching around him carefully.  Steve inclines his head to the side, eyes fluttering closed, as if he’s trying to soak in Bucky’s presence.

 Bucky stays still for a moment, then runs his fingers over the twisted piece on Steve’s back, smoothing it out so that it passes easily through the metal buckle.  

 “I think it’s fixed,” Bucky says quietly.  “Want me to help you get it off?”

 Steve nods, barely moving. Bucky gently tugs on the straps where they rest on Steve’s shoulders, and Steve arches his back to let him remove the harness.

 There’s a long moment, then, when neither of them move, and then Steve turns to face Bucky, his blue eyes wide.

 “Thanks.”  It means more than Steve is saying, a combination of apology and promise, but Bucky knows better than to press him now.

 “Anytime.”

 Steve takes the harness from Bucky and stows it in his duffel, then retreats into the bathroom to change out of his uniform.  When he comes back in his sweats and t-shirt he sits down next to Bucky and rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing for Steve to do.

 “You must be beat,” Bucky says, not wanting to break the spell.

 “Been a long day.”

 Bucky stretches a little bit, adjusts his position so that Steve can rest more comfortably against him. “We should get some sleep.”

 Steve agrees and lets out a long breath.  Bucky waits, as still as he can, hoping Steve will stay where he is.

 He does.

[hutcherette]

Flowers in the Window Chapter 4

Wow only me 5 months to update, sorry! Life & work stuff just took over all my time.  I will try not to be so long in my next update. As always many thanks to my lovely beta and friend Heidi. She had a big job on her hands, as this chapter is rather long, so ta very much dude! :D xx Hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading and for the lovely comments. Previous chapters can be found on A03

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7594528?view_full_work=true

"It'll have to do" Katniss muttered under breath after she had re-braided her hair for the fourth time that morning. She took a deep breath in, breathed out hard and studied her reflection in the small mirror above the basin in the female staff bathroom. 8:47 am. Nearly time to roll. Toying idly with the end of her braid she pulled out her go-to 'I'm fabulous' perfect nude lipstick for yet another coat. Letting out a resigned sigh she grabbed her handbag and opened the door quickly.

"Pull yourself together Everdeen" She chastised herself with a heated whisper.

 Unfortunately in the heat of scolding herself she hadn't noticed Johanna racing in the door. Her black duster coat whipping behind her.

"Woah there, Nelly! Are you trying to make my hangover worse than it already is?!" Jo gestured to her head, which Katniss was guessing, was pounding.

"Morning to you too Jo" she smiled patting the side of Jo's head sympathetically.

"Wild night?!"

"Wet n wild times K, all the way" Jo drawled winking at her friend. Katniss wrinkled her nose, turned back to the mirror and started toying again with her braid.

"So things good with Thresh still?"

"That man has moves that out-sex even Gloss" Jo replied pulling out her black kajal liner from her bag with the smirk of a cat who had recently had her fair share of top quality cream.

"Wow; even Gloss the man-whore extraordinaire? Well I guess it must be love," Katniss teased.

"Please." Jo rolled her eyes & applied a heavy line of sooty black in her lower waterline.

"Why are you in here anyway, K? It's almost bell and you don't fuss or primp your hair or makeup. Ever. If I didn't know you better I'd say you were avoiding the soon to be love of your life… or at least a couple of months of good lays."

 Exasperated, Katniss grabbed her handbag and started fidgeting with the zipper.

"I’m not avoiding him...I just...look...urgh we talked about this yesterday Jo, it's just all so...awkward."

"Oh come on K, it's only awkward because you're turning it into some dumb high school drama á la Delly! It's very simple. He likes you, you like him. You had some weird serendipitous meeting years ago where you hit it off with each other, so? Who cares? Get in his pants already!"

"Always boils down to one thing with you doesn't it Johanna?" Katniss snapped. Johanna glared at her from the mirror.

"Harsh, Everdeen. I'm actually trying to help you bring a bit of happiness into your life but if you're too brainless to see that then fine; stew in your own misery." She picked up her bag & turned to face Katniss.

"If you need me I'll be in the photocopier room. I just saw Mellark on his way to Trinkets room, just a heads up there to aid you in your little avoidance plan. He also asked me if I'd seen you..."

"What did you say?" Katniss asked in a half whisper staring down at the sink. She knew Jo was right, she had to give him and whatever they had or could have, a chance. The whole thing had been gnawing at her all weekend to the point where she couldn't sleep. She wanted to text him but this wasn't a simple case of boy meets girl, boy kisses girl, followed by the obligatory ‘oh so charming’ text games that usually lead to a first date or being ignored. She wanted to speak to him face to face but now the moment was here...she was terrified.

"I said no I hadn't. Besides why do you care? It's all too awkward right?!" Jo huffed back and walked out the door.

 The shrill clanging bell rang out breaking Katniss from her thoughts. Oh Shit she slapped her hand to her head. Monday mornings were her half day teaching in D12's kindergarten. The worst part of her week but she had been railroaded into it by Effie who had insisted how good the experience would look on her CPD plan this year although the truth of the matter was that every other staff member had passed up the opportunity to do it and Effie knew she could talk her round by bringing out the guilt inducing 'we need you Katniss' speech. Besides it was that or lunchtime detention duties 2 days a week. At least being there would give her head a break from Peeta mania. Mind you, the prospect of having to face Peeta later on with snot stains on her clothes and paint on her shoes didn't exactly thrill her either. Feeling a little more relaxed Katniss walked down the old rickety stairwell down into the main lobby, kindergarten bound. The years had not been kind to D12's main building, built in 1936 the red sandstone three storey building looked impressive from the exterior but inside was another story. Leaking roofs, peeling paint and some furniture that hasn't been replaced since Eisenhower meant that the school was often in a dilapidated condition. Mrs Cray wanted to bulldoze the entire building and rebuild but Cressida favoured fund raising events to preserve and fix, what was at its heart, a beautiful building full of character and history.

Katniss was rifling through her bag to find the key card that opened the kindergarten entry door when those smooth molten caramel tones echoed behind her. "Hey Katniss" Oh god. Oh god. Thought I'd at least have a couple of hours before facing him. She breathed out. 1-2-3. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes locking with a motherload of electric blue.

"Hi," she squeaked a little higher pitched than she intended. She cleared her throat trying to find a way to ground herself and not make this anymore awkward than it already was.

"Hi Peeta, hey, um how are you?" Those eyes twinkled and a soft smile crept over his lips.

"Not bad, all the better for seeing you."

If she wasn't so self-conscious she'd swear that Peeta's face flushed slightly. And then… Silence. Say something, say anything!

"Th-thanks you too. Hope the White Russians were kind to you next morning. I felt a little queasy but it wore off. Johanna swears by a Virgin Bloody Mary with her secret recipe hash browns & bacon breakfast. Really does sort you out..." Her voice trailed off as she realised she was in full babbling overload and that Peeta was smiling at her with a look of bemusement.

"I'll need to try that sometime. I personally prefer Cheese buns and a black coffee. I was helping out at the family bakery all day Saturday & that combination saved my ass. Not sure if White Russians were my best idea ever." "No, no they were good." Peeta beamed at her. As she started to feel lost in his eyes again.

"Mr Mellark! Where are you dear?" Effie trilled her clacking heels echoing off the concrete floor as she waltzed into the lobby. Her face a picture of panic as two children from Peeta's class walked sullenly behind her. One covering his nose with a blood stained tissue. "Two of your children have been fighting, yes fighting, in the playground!" She shrieked from behind. Peeta looked behind him and then smiled apologetically at Katniss.

"Sorry, looks like duty calls. Listen are you busy at lunch? I brought in left over cheese buns. I'd..." He hesitated as if trying to gauge what her answer would be. "I'd really like to talk...not to sound all heavy. But I'd like to explain why I didn't tell you what I knew on Friday night."

"I'm sorry I didn't text you Peeta. I, I, sorry it was just a lot to take in."

"Please, don't be – sorry I mean... Kinda figured you'd need some time. Hell, when I saw you for the first time last week, I definitely needed some time to process it all."

That smile, the one that made her melt the first time she had seen it through that crazy green headpiece, beaming at her, was full front and centre.

"Sure... um… meet me here, 12.15? I... I like buns.... cheese ones, I mean." She closed briefly her eyes cringing at her last statement. Learn to talk Everdeen.

"Good, good" he grinned, the look of relief pertinent on his face.

"Made by my own fair hand, so they should be tasty enough."

Was he flirting or was this just bakery chit chat?! Whatever it was she was starting to feel extremely warm again.

"Ok, um, I better get to Kindergarten. See you later." She clumsily turned around and gave him a wave.

"Give 'em hell, Dorothy girl" He smirked. Lord.

"I try," she mock sighed, pushing down on the door handle & walking through. Ok it was flirting, she grinned, definite flirting.

 *********

 "Sweet lord... unh… these are amazing," Katniss groaned and wiped her mouth self-consciously after what was her third cheese bun. Peeta laughed offering her a napkin and carton of orange juice.

"Honestly Peeta, your talents are obviously wasted here in the teaching profession. You bake like a bad ass." She grinned taking the carton. Jesus could I stop babbling at the cheese buns for 1 second and actually focus on the fact that Peeta and I are on a semi date?! And did I just say the phrase 'bake like a bad ass?' Do I now have the oracy skills of a ten year old?! Too many ridiculous questions were swirling around her brain. She took a long drink from the carton. Calm down Katniss, she mentally soothed herself. Not noticing her embarrassment Peeta grinned back at her.

"Ah, why thank you kind lady but I think I'll leave the bad ass for my time in the kitchen and keep the genteel for the classroom."

"Shame," she smiled back meekly. Peeta had been standing waiting for her at 12.15 on the dot outside the nursery doors. To be honest, after 3 hellish hours of dealing with runny noses, (one child has actually wiped his nose on her hand), repeated readings of The Gruffalo including one session where the Gruffalo and fox toy props were thrown across the room, seeing a gorgeous guy with knockout blue eyes holding a paper bag of freshly baked bakery goods was just the tonic. They sat on a bench under the huge willow tree in the front gardens of the school. It hadn't been as awkward as Katniss had worried it would be. Peeta was good at small talk and filling in silences, and just as she remembered from that fateful Halloween night, he always knew the right thing to say. Katniss reached over to take her juice carton, Peeta caught her eye and smiled at her, his cheeks looking slightly pinker than usual. Silence. Damn I spoke too soon. He cleared his throat and crumpled the paper bag causally in his hands.

"Uh Katniss, uh about the other night I..." the assured smooth talking stance seemed to be faltering.

"Yeah?" Katniss prompted.

"Well, ok here goes, I had this all rehearsed in my head and now I've messed it up already." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I like you Katniss. I've liked you since that night at the party. After we met I couldn't stop thinking about you but I was still involved with Cashm... my girlfriend at the time. We weren’t really getting on that well when we met but we had been together since high school and I wanted to make it work. It didn't though and we split up 2 years later. I wish, I had looked for you… God I wish so many things had been different. You were seeing a guy too right?"

"Yeah I was... um Gale. We broke up last year actually." She bit her lip. Where was this going? Did he regret meeting her, was it just too messy for them to even try and start something?

"Oh, I would say I'm sorry but..." He gently placed his hand over hers.

"But?" she breathed out shakily. The warmth of his hand was sending out those jolts of electric charge again.

"Well with no disrespect to Gale, his loss might be my gain?" Katniss smiled shyly, stroking his thumb gently.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw you here, just across the classroom. I wasn't sure if it was you at first. Having been a few years since that night and the fact that you weren't clad in gingham," he laughed softly. "I wanted to tell you at the Med but we were getting on so well and I guess I wanted to see if the same connection was still there, and it was... I felt it."

"I noticed you looking at me but thought maybe it was my imagination," she grinned.

"Why would you think it's your imagination?! You're beautiful. I don't think you know… the effect you have. "

Ok the fact that his head had come closer in proximity was definitely not her imagination. She feeling a little intoxicated. Those eyes and the fact that he had licked his lips were now all she could focus on.

"It's the same effect I felt at that party. It's dazzling, you're dazzling Katniss" He leaned forward, placed his hand on her cheek to cradle her face. His fingers softly grazed her temples. She could get lost in those hits of blue. She felt his breath on her lips, it was going to happen. Fuuucckkkk. She let out a soft squeak as she felt his lips graze hers. Heaven, heaven she sang in her mind. What - what what's that noise?! No, no! She groaned internally as the school bell rang with all its shrill intonations. She opened her eyes, Peeta touched her forehead with his. His fingers still stroking her face.

"Saved by the bell huh?!" He whispered huskily.

"Don't think I'd use the word 'saved' more like cursed," she rolled her eyes and lifted her hand up to stroke the tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. He laughed and slowly pulled his head away but still holding her hand.

"Probably for the best really. Last thing we need is Effie hauling us into her office for unprofessional conduct."

Katniss laughed picking up her handbag and jacket.

"Hmm.... I think I would have risked it." He smiled bashfully, running a finger slowly from her temples to jaw. She shivered, oh god she was done for.

"Peeta Mellark... you live right on the edge don't you," she teased.

"Oh Miss Everdeen you have no idea," he winked cheekily. They walked up towards the school entrance in a happier much more comfortable silence. She stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"Thanks for lunch Peeta, it was... lovely." She felt her blush creep back with a vengeance.

"You're welcome. My class were in the gym hall for all of lunch. Cressida organised a judo instructor as a treat for their class of the week award. So I better go, and hope none of them try out any of their moves on me."

"Good luck with that," she laughed and started walking up the stairs.

"Uh Katniss...?”

She turned around. Nervous Peeta was back in business. "Would you like to get together one night this week? Dinner, or a movie or both?"

"Sure." Damn. She had gone for casual but it came out rather high pitched again. "I...I could cook dinner if you like, at mine. I'm no cordon bleu but I can whip up a mean Lasagne," she blurted out quickly. Her place?! Did she really say that? What was he going to think?! That she was easy. Learn also when to shut up Everdeen.

"Sounds fantastic. Are you free Friday night? You cook and I'll bring more buns?!"

"Yes: yes to all of the above. Seven a good time? And please do bring your buns, the more the merrier."

Peeta gave her a bemused look. "Yeah 7, I look forward to it and Katniss... my buns are always available," he grinned and walked away towards the gym hall before Katniss could respond. She was glad that wouldn't be able to witness how flustered and warm she had suddenly become again.

She was really going on a date with Peeta Mellark... monster boy... eyes that make all the panties drop. Oh lord she was done for.

  ******

 "Let me be clear, you... Katniss Everdeen... offered up your cooking?! To an innocent victim?!" Madge cackled down the phone line.

"What's wrong with my cooking, I don't remember you complaining when you had the flu and I looked after you for an entire weekend!" Katniss shot back. "Katniss that was mostly grilled cheese sandwiches and heated up pizzas, which you burned!" She continued to laugh.

"Uh no I did not! And that was 6 years ago! I've been practising. Anyway Jo's Lasagne recipe is fool-proof.”

Madge had phoned that night for a catch up and now it had turned into a critical appraisal of her Friday plans with Peeta.

"Ok, ok no more roasting of Katniss, pun intended. At least tell me what you're wearing?"

"I haven't thought about it, jeans maybe, black top."

"Pants on fire K, I know you too well. You're crazy about this guy, but trying to play it cool, your tried and tested defence mechanism against disappointment. Which is mental. It's Peeta friggin' Mellark! He's a gorgeous and a total sweetheart. Why didn't you tell me you guys met at the Halloween party?"

"You know why! Um, long standing boyfriend at the time, you remember him...6 foot 2, dark hair, answered to the name Gale?"

"Har har, I just meant, it would have saved you a lot of time had you guys got together years ago."

"I wasn't going to give up my relationship for a crush on a guy in a monster costume Madge!"

"Uh-huh look how well that turned out."

"I know…" Katniss replied sadly.

"I'm sorry Katniss, that was out of line. Just been a bitch of a day and Adam is driving me nuts." Madge sighed

"Please, it’s us, we always have a get out of jail free cards for crabbiness, especially if it's about men being assholes." Madge and her boyfriend, the same Adam Gloss from the infamous Halloween party, were in the middle of a messy breakup. Adam, at being the dumpee, had recently started behaving a petty and spiteful manner towards Madge resulting in weekly demands for clothes, books, or some other, often insignificant object, that he wanted back from her apartment.

"Thanks. But still I shouldn't take his shitty behaviour out on my best friend. He texted me earlier and demanded a shitty plastic shot glass that he brought me back from Bermuda. Seriously K, I'm so glad I ended it, look at the kind of guy he is. He's certainly no Peeta." She sighed wistfully at the end of the sentence. "Maybe you should date him," Katniss joked.

"Haha! Nuh-huh, I've heard he's got it baaaad for you Everdeen."

"What, please… How do you know that?"

"I have my sources, namely Johanna." Katniss could almost hear her smirking. "And when have you ever listened to Jo?!" She laughed.

"Jo's a little intense but that's half the fun right?! Anyway you still haven't told me what you're wearing? I think you should go and buy a new dress. I'm thinking a sexy black body con style with your hair loose in tousled waves... If I wasn't three hours away by plane l would be coming over and supervising this whole date, instead I'm entrusting Johanna to man the decks."

"Body con Madge? Seriously. It's a low key first date, not dress up like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Besides Glimmer wears all those sultry style clothes and it hasn't impressed Peeta one bit." Katniss bit her lip remembering how all over Peeta Glimmer was at the night out. "That's just not me."

"Ok I know, I know, I'm just so excited for you plus you have an amazing figure Katniss. You should show it off sometime."

"One step at time. Listen Madge gotta run. Call you Thursday night ok. Love you." Katniss walked over and opened the door to Jo.

"You too, say hi to Jo, bye."

After their disagreement in the bathroom Katniss had apologised and provided a peace offering in the form of Chinese food and allowing Jo to bring over a choice selection of possible date outfits.

"You're as bad as Madge!" Katniss groaned later, upon viewing the 2nd outfit in Jo's often inappropriate collection of dresses.

"Madge has got some damn good taste then!" She sniggered running her hand down an obscenely short dark red leather dress.

"No, and that's the end of it. Do you have anything here that is..." She caught Johanna's eye and her challenging expression and she inwardly flinched at possibly starting another row with her.

"That's what K?" Jo replied with slight defiance in her voice.

"Well..." Katniss chose her words carefully. "More... me?" She looked up feeling a little anxious about how Jo was going to respond. Much to Katniss's relief Jo grinned wickedly, pulling out a dress from underneath the red leather one. "Yeah, yeah I get you K," she rolled her eyes. "So I came prepared." "Whadda'ya think?" She held up a sleek looking fine knitted black ribbed sweater dress. "100% Italian wool, ya know."

"Oh my god Jo, that's beautiful. Why haven't I seen you wear this before?"

"It's a little strait laced for my taste." She winked. "My mom got it for my Christmas last year. Forgot I had it. She gets all these swish looking dresses at that boutique of hers. I guess she was trying to smarten me up."

"You don't need it, perfect as you are Mason." Katniss bumped her fist affectionately on Johanna's shoulder.

"Well duh obviously, Brainless!" She laughed tapping Katniss's hand. "Anyway it's yours if you want it?"

"I can't have this Jo, it must have cost a..."

"Two hundred and fifty eight plus tax... Yep she left the tags on, just have it Everdeen. Don't say I don't treat you!" Jo flung the dress at Katniss. "Go try it on... You're gonna look hot, Mellark will flip his little blondie lid!"

"Thanks Jo, this is perfect" Katniss examined the dress. It felt so soft between her fingers. She inwardly blushed thinking about Peeta checking her out in it. "Anytime. Now about your makeup. I'm thinking a dark red lip and killer contouring of those cheekbones." Katniss mock sighed loudly before heading to the bathroom.

"We'll see…"

"No way, if I'm giving you that dress you're getting the makeup I order." Jo called after her.

"Sure Jo, sure." Katniss laughed closing the door.

    The rest of the week had gone by in a blur of shy smiles and lingering glances across classrooms and stairwells. She hadn't got the chance to speak much to Peeta due to it being his turn to supervise lunchtime detention this week. By the time Friday afternoon came Katniss was beginning to feel definite pre-date jitters creeping up on her.

"What's the worst that could happen? Blondie won't put out on the first date." Johanna grinned mischievously as she gathered up a huge pile of homework sacks to give out.

"Har-har Jo, thanks. I feel much more at ease now," Katniss deadpanned. "Always happy to help K, - AARON CRAY WHAT DID MISS EVERDEEN JUST SAY?!" She thundered across the room to deal with more Cray shenanigans.

 "Hey,” that beautiful voice that she came to crave and be fearful of at the same time echoed in her ear.

"Gah," she spun round to see Peeta leaning against the door frame wearing a sinfully fitting blue shirt that just made the blue of his eyes pop out even more. "Sorry you startled me there Mr Mellark," she self-consciously pushed her hair behind her ear and felt her face begin that familiar burn again.

"Apologies Miss Everdeen."

That sexy grin should be god damned outlawed she inwardly groaned.

"Was just wondering if I could borrow your copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Promised the kids I'd read a chapter to them today."

"Sure thing," she walked over to her bookshelf behind her desk, smiling to herself. He could have sent his TA to get the book but he went instead. Yep must have definitely wanted to see her.

"Here you go, enjoy."

"Thanks and by the way," Peeta lowered his voice and looked furtively around the classroom for any eavesdroppers "We still on for tonight?"

"Yeah, yes definitely. Seven?"

"I'll see you then," he replied with a wink and turned around to leave. "Hey Mellark! I expect a good report," Johanna called across the room loudly.

Peeta looked a little stunned for a minute, rubbed the back of his beck and smiled back coolly.

"It'll be A star Miss Mason, I promise!"

The three kids standing beside Jo stared over at Katniss and Peeta looking completely perplexed.

"Hey you three, heads down and concentrate," Jo snapped then smirked at Katniss.

"See you later Katniss," Peeta smiled apologetically at her before walking out. "Jesus," she muttered as if her nerves weren't already frazzled. Would she even make it to 7 tonight?!

 *****

 Hair done, makeup on, dress on, ah shit perfume still to spritzed, teeth - not brushed!? Oh god yes good breath is imperative. Katniss continued to mentally compile the rest of her to do list while putting the lasagne in the oven. It was quarter to seven and she was running behind, and as Madge predicted the cooking wasn't quite up to Cordon Bleu standards. She had burned the onions in the Bolognese and had to run out to the corner shop to hastily get some more and now the fucking whipping cream for the individual trifles wasn't whipping.

'Soft peaks,' the recipe had said. No peaks, just a runny mess.

Where's Martha Stewart when you need her? She muttered to herself. Hang on, hang on she grinned at her own inventiveness. She pulled out a can of whipped cream from the fridge and started spraying it into the set custard. Sorted. She raced through to the bathroom toothbrush in one hand, her Black Nirvana perfume in the other. You got this in hand Everdeen, all is well she reassured herself in the mirror. She had managed to talk Jo out of applying her makeup by letting her curl her hair instead. The last thing Peeta would want to see surely was her face trowelled on with makeup like Glimmer or (dare she say it) Cashmere?!

Her buzzer rang in a volume that seemed louder than usual or was it her nerves jangling?! She ran over and hit the button.

"Come on up," she called trying to sound casual but epically failing.

 1-2-3-4-5, she counted inwardly while standing by the door waiting to let him in. 6-7-8-9-10, oh god oh god it's Peeta, Peeta Mellark soon to be in my apartment, 11-12-13-14-15, on a fucking date.

16-17-18-19, Jesus Mellark how long does it take to walk up to my door?!

20 - a loud purposeful knock came from the other side of the door.

She opened the door a little cautiously. There he was all 5'11 of him, his hair styled lightly with gel so it was pushed away from his forehead. This just intensified his beautiful eyes even more. He wore a black fitted shirt, black jeans with a beige casual jacket over the top. She wasn't sure if Peeta hadn't actually moonlighted as an Abercrombie model in the past because he was certainly working it. She realised she'd just been staring at him when he politely coughed and smiled shyly.

"Oh, hi Peeta come in," she gestured with her hands a little awkwardly.

"Thanks," he grinned walking through. He seemed as on edge as her putting A hand in his pocket.

"Uh these are for you." He handed a paper wrapped small bouquet of golden orange sunflowers.

"They're beautiful, thank you. Take a seat I'll go put them in water. Dinner should be in ten minutes. Would you like some wine?“ she replied a little shrilly. Get to the kitchen Katniss, just get there and calm the fuck down. She scolded herself.

"Uh yeah wine would be good. Thanks. Can I give you a hand with anything?" He called as she sped off to the kitchen,

"No, no just relax," She hurriedly placed the sunflowers in the vase by the window. Grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses. Before leaving she took two deep breaths and then went back through. She sat down next to Peeta on the sofa.

"You look beautiful by the way," he said softly his eyes never leaving hers. She grabbed the wine glass a little too hastily spilling a little on Peeta’s lap.

"Oh jeez I'm so sorry!" She grabbed a tissue from the table.

"Hey, hey it's ok, Katniss it's fine. Was just a little spill." He clasped her hand and gently rubbed her knuckles reassuringly.

"Besides it's not the first time you've spilled alcohol on me," he smirked taking a sip. She couldn't bring herself to take her hand away it felt so good.

"Oh god," she groaned, "that was so embarrassing," remembering her face slamming into his green Lycra clad private parts all those years ago. Peeta laughed.

"Without sounding like a total perv I didn't mind it at all." His flirtatious cheeky manner was in full swing and it was the sexiest feeling in the world to be on the receiving end of it.

"I'm glad someone enjoyed my shame," she laughed. His hand was still rubbing hers and god did it feel fucking good. He let go gently and took his jacket off. She missed the skin on skin contact immediately.

"So how was your day?" She asked. He was so good at putting her at ease in every situation.

"Not bad. Effie asked if-" Suddenly Peeta’s voice was drowned by the piercing wail of her fire alarm.

"Wha – oh, shit! The lasagne!”

Leaping out of her seat she ran to the kitchen. Smoke billowed out of the oven. Peeta appeared behind her his hand on her shoulder.

"Do you have a dish towel?" He called over the din. She grabbed one from the counter and handed to him. He immediately started wafting the smoke away from the alarm. Springing into action she switched the oven off, pulled open the oven door with the mitt and threw the lasagne in the sink with an almighty clatter. Tears welled up as she stared down at the burned lasagne clogging up her sink. She heard Peeta continue to waft his tea towel and the horrendous mocking sound of the alarm.

Suddenly silence. The smoke had dissipated somewhat but still clung around the kitchen.

"Well...." Peeta still had his hand mid-air clutching the dish towel. "That's a welcome I'll never forget!"

He looked at her and his mouth twitched in amusement. Whatever frustration and anger she had just been feeling drained and she burst into laughter with Peeta following suit. They howled with laughter and after a minute Peeta pulled her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head, before peeling with laughter once again.

"I think...." she breathed clutching her stomach with hilarity, "That this is god’s way of telling me not to cook anymore."

"You think?!" He joked rubbing her back.

The dinner was ruined, her pride a little dented but the incident had diffused the tension she was feeling and for that she was thankful. She could be herself not first date jitters-Katniss.

"You wanna order takeout? She said wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. "I've got an idea that's way better than takeout. I'll cook for you." He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. There in the middle of a smoky, messy kitchen with her eyes streaming Peeta was caressing her face with both hands and kissing her. The kiss deepened and Katniss moaned, stepping back against the counter to steady herself. He lightly traced her bottom lip with his tongue before gently letting it caress her own. A few minutes passed before he gently pulled back still stroking her face and neck. His blue eyes a tad darker than their usual cerulean hue.

"If you cook the way the way you kiss then I'll be in for a taste sensation," she grinned rubbing her hands up his arms.

"Oh just you wait Everdeen," he pecked her on the lips again before making his way over to her fridge. "Hmm... ok yeah I can work with this," he murmured to himself.

"Go sit and relax, I should be ready in say about 20 minutes." He grabbed a carton of eggs, milk, butter and a packet of bacon.

"What no Peeta. I'm staying here to help you. Least I can do since I burnt your dinner."

"Nuh-uh. If you want your dinner you'll go sit. Go on... too many cooks and all that." He grinned, pulled her in for another embrace from behind and started playfully tickling her.

"Ok, ok, ok I give in," she laughed pulling him in for another kiss.

"Mmm, I could just stand here and do this all evening," he looked lustfully at her. "But I promised you dinner and cheese buns, so scoot. "

She laughed and left him to it. Sinking back onto the sofa she took a large gulp of wine and sighed. What a night. She was nervous as hell wondering how she was going to handle him being there and now there he was cooking her dinner and kissing her in an obscenely sexy way that made her want to clench her thighs together and head to her bedroom to recover. Peeta was special, there was no doubt about it and she felt so lucky that they had reconnected.

Ten minutes later, she heard some dishes clanging together. She kinda felt guilty about leaving him to it but he seemed determined. She switched on some music. The relaxing tones of Massive Attack's Unfinished Sympathy were welcome and soothing. Grabbing the wine bottle she poured herself another glass. She put her fingers up to her lips and thought about that kiss. God....

A loud knock at the front door reverberated through the room. What? Oh come on, who would be knocking at this time on a Friday? Maybe it was the Super coming to inspect the fire alarm. Oh joy. She opened to door quickly.

 1-2-3-4-5

"Hey, Katniss."

6-7-8-9-10

"Gale," she uttered.

Duh duh duuuuuuuh! He's back...evil cackle.. Be rest assured i'm no fan of Galeniss in any form lol but Katniss needs to confront and deal with her past once and for all.

For those who don't know, i am a primary teacher like Katniss and I also dislike my time teaching in nursery.  Her experiences were definitely drawn from my own. (Although sadly I didnt have Peeta waiting for me with cheese buns....such is life)

[hkvoyage]

Fic: Butterfly Wings - Chapter 40

Story summary A fashion blog started at University launched Blaine Anderson’s fortune and fame. As Vogue’s new editor-in-chief, he is struggling to find an original angle for an upcoming issue. Kurt Hummel has recently arrived in New York City after finishing high school, and is having no luck building a musical theater career, so he decides to explore another passion of his: fashion. He applies for an internship at Vogue, and Isabelle sees in him the perfect fresh face to liven up the magazine, and convinces him to try out as a model. Kurt meets Blaine, and in spite of their 10-year age difference, sparks fly. Can they overcome misunderstandings and sabotage to find their happily-ever-after? Klaine model AU. Rating for this chapter: Mature (overall story is mature) Word count for this chapter: 4,946 Can also be read on A03 / FF Masterpost is here. The fantastic story artwork produced by Cassie at @cc-graphics  can be here.   Thank you to the amazing @lilyvandersteen for the beta work and support. ***** “The success of Yoga does not lie in the ability to perform postures but in how it positively changes the way we live our life and our relationships.”  - T.K.V. Desikachar August Blaine enters the penthouse early in the morning and sets down his carry-on suitcase. It was a hectic three-day trip, but it was so totally worth it. Kurt has been really busy with his summer courses, spending every free moment at the FIT jewelry workshop. Instead of sitting home and feeling sorry for himself, Blaine had decided to fly to LA while Kurt finished the final coursework. “Is that you, Blaine?” he hears Kurt calling out. Soon he has an armful of Kurt, who wraps his legs around Blaine’s waist. “Good morning, my love. God, I missed you so much,” Blaine murmurs, kissing Kurt and holding onto him tightly. If this is the welcome home he gets, then Blaine thinks he might have to take a few more short trips away.

“I’m so happy you’re home. I missed you too. Let’s have breakfast and you can tell me all about your trip.” Within minutes, Amy has the table laden with blueberry pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit salad, freshly pressed orange juice, and a pot of coffee. “All my favorite foods! You spoil me, Amy,” Blaine declares, starving after the red-eye flight he has taken. “Kurt isn’t the only one who misses you when you’re away, Mr. A. Unless you need anything else, I’m off to the Greenmarket over in Brooklyn. I hear this season’s Georgia peaches are in. I won’t be back until 1 p.m.” When Amy has left the penthouse, Kurt bursts out into laughter. “What’s so funny?” Blaine asks. “The Greenmarket isn’t open today, and I spotted a boxful of peaches in the laundry area last night. Amy is making herself scarce to give us some alone time. Now, tell me all about the trip.” “Sam and Mercedes are doing fine, although they haven’t had much sleep since the baby was born. I insisted on doing all the middle-of-the-night feeds. Monica is so gorgeous and sweet that I almost packed her into my suitcase to bring her home with me. I swear she smiled at me, but Mercedes insisted that it’s too early for that.” Blaine hands over his tablet so that Kurt can see the hundreds of photos taken over the three-day trip. Most of them show Blaine positively glowing with a baby in his arms. “Did you finish your end-of-term projects?” “I handed them in yesterday afternoon. I’m rather proud of the jewelry designs.” “You’ll have to show me later, maybe after 1 p.m.? I can think of a few other ways to spend the next four hours before Amy returns,” Blaine whispers hotly into Kurt’s ear. ***** Blaine enters Le Bernardin, and the maitre d' whisks him off to a table in the center of the restaurant, where Sebastian is waiting for him. “Sebastian, good to see you. I can’t believe you managed to book a table here at such short notice.” “You’re not the only one who has connections. When I told them that my guest would be Blaine Anderson, they practically wetted themselves thinking of the publicity that the restaurant would get with us dining together.” “I guess that explains the high-profile table,” Blaine chuckles. They select their seafood courses from the prix-fixe menu, and two glasses of Krug champagne that Sebastian had ordered earlier are poured. “I’m surprised that Tickle-Me-Doughface let you join me for lunch,” Sebastian smirks. “Do not call Kurt that,” Blaine growls. “If you’re just going to throw insults at us, I’m leaving.” “Okay, simmer down. I didn’t think that would hit a nerve.” “Well, it did. Treat my boyfriend with respect. So why did you invite me to lunch, Sebastian?” “I read the interview that was in Vogue’s June issue. Frankly, what you said about us surprised me.” “I thought it would. You see, Sebastian, in a weird way, I think you bring out the best in me at work. I know how smart you are, I know how you operate and I try to keep up. It focuses me to make Vogue the top-selling magazine.” “It’s working. Elle’s circulation numbers are down since Kurt left. Maybe if I pretend to be your friend, you’ll take the eye off the ball,” Sebastian snorts. “I’m tired of playing games with you, Sebastian. I don’t think there are any winners in the end – just other people like Chandler and Kurt that get hurt by our tactics. Let’s call a truce.” “I can’t promise that, Blaine. After all, my number one goal is to have Elle on top. What I can promise you, though, is that I’ll make it less personal. Believe it or not, Blaine, I admire you as well.” The first course of raw oysters is served, and they eat and chat about the Monarch Foundation. “I really appreciate your generous donation, Sebastian. We’re using the money to buy a property in Defiance, Ohio.” Sebastian laughs. “I love that my money will be used for a Monarch House in a town called Defiance. It pretty much sums me up, particularly when I was a teenager.” “I can’t imagine what you got up to in Paris, before attending Dalton,” Blaine remarks cautiously, not sure where this conversation is heading. “Oh, it started way earlier than that, Blainey. The summer before starting high school, my father got me a job at the State Attorney’s mailroom. There was a really hot college intern who started hitting on me, and we messed around. One lunchtime, the state attorney general himself caught us in the mailroom - I was fucking the intern’s brains out. Later, the intern claimed I was raping him and he wasn’t gay.” “You were the one underage, not him. What he did… It’s called statutory rape!” Blaine exclaims. “I wasn’t in the position to argue finer legal points with the state attorney general, was I? The way he and my father saw it, I was the aggressor, because I was topping. To make matters worse, I hadn’t come out to anyone! The state attorney general conveniently found a one-year position in Paris for my father at the Bureau du Procureur. The next week, we were on the plane.” “That sounds awful. I can’t imagine going through that at fourteen years old.” “My parents said I was a disgrace to the Smythe name and enrolled me in a French boarding school. I decided right then that I couldn’t ever depend on anyone but myself. At school, the French boys were attracted to the new American boy, and I fucked them all – it made me feel powerful. Once the gossip calmed down, we returned to Ohio, and I was enrolled at Dalton.” “Wow. I didn’t know, Sebastian.” “I think it would really have helped if there had been a place like the Monarch House I could go to that summer when I worked in the mailroom. I think I would have come out to my family before the scandal happened, and I would have known what to expect when it came to sex.” The main course of Dover sole is presented, and the conversation turns light and breezy, remembering Warbler antics and updating each other with news in their lives. When they’ve finished their meal and walk out of the restaurant, there are dozens of paparazzi taking photos of them. Sebastian and Blaine smile for the cameras and joke about their friendly rivalry. When Sebastian goes to shake Blaine’s hand, Blaine pulls him in for a one-armed hug, and the paps go wild, because it’s the exact same pose as the photo taken during their Dalton years that was featured in Vogue. Once Blaine sets off in a separate direction from Sebastian and turns the corner, he whips out his phone and sends Kurt a text. Lunch with Seb went great. Paps swamped us at the end. We posed for pictures. Blaine certainly doesn’t want Kurt to misinterpret the photos that are probably already on Twitter. Blaine realizes how far they have come in such a short time when he reads Kurt’s reply. Yeah, I’ve seen them. You are so much hotter than Seb ;). Fans think Klaine rules over Seblaine. I do too! K xx. Weeks ago, the paparazzi discovered that Kurt was his boyfriend, when he left Blaine’s apartment building one early morning to go to class. Initially, there was a media frenzy, and Blaine had insisted that Bentley drive Kurt to and from FIT. Once the media realized that he and Kurt did everyday things – and didn’t have public sex in nightclubs - they soon got bored of following them and turned their attention to an actor who insisted he was straight, but acted like a tart at gay clubs. Blaine checks his watch, and it’s 2:30 p.m. There’s nothing pressing at work, so he decides to go home and start the weekend early. Kurt is spending the day browsing the vintage jewelry and antique shops in the Village to get inspiration for future designs. When Blaine enters the penthouse, he immediately goes into the kitchen to let Amy know that he’s home. He can’t find her, but notices her laptop open on the kitchen counter. Amy uses it to find new recipes on the Internet. Blaine walks over to the computer to see what’s on the menu for tonight. However, Blaine notices that instead of a recipe, a Word document is open. Kevin licks his lips when he sees Brian’s hands and feet tied to the bed, spread out for before him. Brian is in for a very long night, and if he’s lucky, Kevin will let him cum. Kevin pulls out the large chest from the closet and slowly opens it. He can sense that Brian is watching every move that he makes. Kevin bends over, making sure to show off his ass, and takes out a blindfold, gag, and leather restraints. It’s going to be a long night of pleasure and pain. Brian whimpers when he sees… Blaine doesn’t recall an e-mail notification that KrianFeels has updated the Breakout fic, and then it dawns on him. “Blaine! I wasn’t expecting you home so early. Is everything all right?” Amy asks as she walks into the kitchen. “You’re KrianFeels!” Amy blushes profusely and grabs the laptop to snap it shut. “All this time, you knew that Sam and I read KrianFeels’ stories. And it was you! How did you even…?” Amy sighs. “I guess I should start at the beginning. When you and Sam started reading Breakout fics, I went on the Internet to check them out for myself. I thought they were pretty lame – way too romantic and fluffy for my liking. Then I created a username and went on to Tumblr and discovered the kink meme board - that was a real eye opener. I decided I could do a much better job of it, so I started writing fic. You and Sam loved the stories so much that I kept on writing.” “How do you even know about these things? You’re not even gay!” “Hey, you don’t need to be a murderer to be a mystery writer. I research on the Internet, chat online with Tumblr friends, and I read stuff. I might be middle-aged, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a creative and active imagination.” “This is a whole different side to you that I didn’t know existed,” Blaine laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t tell Sam, Mr. A.! Let me have my fun. He’s my number one reviewer and I love reading his reactions. I try to fill every prompt that he gives me.” “Oh. My. God. You’re JiffyFeels too!” “The one and only. Now if you excuse me, I need to go into the other room and die of embarrassment.” “Don’t do that, Amy. Actually, I think it’s pretty hilarious. Sam and I have always assumed that KrianFeels was a gay man. It’s not going to affect anything between us. I promise I won’t mention it to Sam. Take the afternoon off and go finish that chapter.” Amy gathers her things and waits in the private lobby for the elevator. Blaine pokes his head out the main door and says, “Amy, one more thing. For god’s sake, let Brian cum. He’s been waiting for weeks.” Blaine goes to the piano and starts his warm-up exercises, chuckling at the image of Amy hunched over her computer at night writing gay smut for his and Sam’s enjoyment. A little tune comes into his head, and soon Blaine is working on the chorus.

Well surprise, surprise, surprise Yeah surprise, surprise, surprise Well surprise, surprise, come on open your eyes And let your love shine down Blaine stops when he realizes that he’s started to compose a new song. Yesterday’s meeting at SONY records with Marley Rose and Connor was a real eye opener. When the SONY executives realized that Blaine composed the music for Marley Rose’s ‘All or Nothing’, they offered him a recording contract on the spot. Connor had predicted this, and so Blaine was prepared. 

Blaine informed the SONY executives that he didn’t want a solo career as a musician. He was more interested in songwriting and eventually producing for other artists. He agreed to work with Marley Rose on her solo album, providing songs and back-up vocals where needed. However, no-one was to know that this was Blaine’s work - he would use a pseudonym. In addition, SONY would need to donate 1% of the sale proceeds to the Monarch Foundation. The SONY executives reluctantly agreed to Blaine’s terms. While they wanted Blaine to front his own songs, they quickly realized that Blaine would not compromise on the matter. Blaine wonders how he’ll find the time to work on new songs, join Marley Rose in the recording studio, run Vogue, and spend time with Kurt. He decides to put this dilemma on the backburner until he and Kurt have their holiday together soon. 

***** 

After messing around on the piano, Blaine takes a long hot shower and then lies down on the bed to cool off before getting dressed. His body’s feeling loose and relaxed, and he lets his fingers brush down his chest. The latest installment of Amy’s has him wondering what he and Kurt might put in a toy chest. There’s so many possibilities, so many combinations, so many ways they can make each other feel good. Blaine picks up his phone and sends Kurt a text. Came home early. I gave Amy the rest of the day off. I’m lonely, so hurry back ;) – B xx Blaine thinks of Kurt’s body – the taut muscles of his chest, the biceps, the endless legs, the wide expanse of creamy soft skin. Blaine hugs Kurt’s pillow to breathe in the scent. Blaine imagines how Kurt’s cock feels and tastes in his mouth. God, if Kurt doesn’t get home soon he’s going to explode. Blaine eagerly grabs his phone when he hears a new notification ping. On my way home, lover boy. I’ll see you in 15 min. K xxx Blaine is horny and wants sex as soon as Kurt walks into the penthouse. But pouncing on his boyfriend and fucking him against the wall probably isn’t a smooth move, so Blaine comes up with another idea. ***** When Kurt enters the penthouse, Blaine’s yoga playlist fills the penthouse with music. Instead of wearing his usual yoga gear, Blaine has opted for the tightest fitting pair of lycra shorts that he owns, and no shirt. Blaine is sitting in the cross-legged ‘lotus’ position, with hands in front of his body as if he’s praying. “Namaste,” Blaine says calmly. Blaine allows his body to flow into the ‘seated twist’ pose, making sure that Kurt gets a little glimpse of his right ass cheek. He then glides down on the mat in time with the music. Blaine places his hands by his side, then presses his feet into the mat and lifts his hips high in the air to do the ‘bridge’ pose. Blaine hears a gasp from the other side of the room, which encourages him to continue. Blaine gracefully rolls to his stomach and places his hands a few inches in front of his shoulders. With one quick move, he jacks his ass up into the ‘downward dog’ pose. Blaine is physically prepared for Kurt to ravish him, and disappointment sinks in when he hears Kurt sit down on the couch, which is in the opposite direction of his ass. Still, he has one more trick up his sleeve. Blaine drops from the pose, curls his body into a ball and turns 180 degrees so that his face is in the opposite direction of Kurt. He slowly rises to his feet and stretches his arms above his head. He spreads his legs three feet apart, lowers his upper body, and clasps his ankle into the ‘standing straddle forward bend’ pose. Blaine can hear Kurt’s heavy panting for a minute, but there’s still no action. Blaine carefully moves his right hand and brings out the condom and packet of lube that he placed under the yoga mat earlier, making it even more obvious what he wants. “God Blaine, you really want me so badly. Take off your shorts and get back in that position,” Kurt says in a low authoritative voice. Kurt’s command goes straight to Blaine’s cock, which is leaking with precum. Usually, Kurt is so quiet during sex – breathy sighs and muted grunts – but this Kurt turns him on. Blaine peels off the lycra shorts, taking his own sweet time to slowly reveal his ass. He tosses the shorts aside and gets back in his previous position, taking deep breaths to ready himself for Kurt’s fingers. He can hear Kurt take off his shirt, undo his belt, and unzip the fly of his trousers. Just when the suspense is killing him, he feels soft lips kiss on his ass instead of the fingers he expected. Holy shit! Blaine’s arms tremble as Kurt gives him kitten licks around his puckered hole, squeezing his ass roughly. The combination of the rough and the smooth sensations is turning Blaine on, and he lets out a groan. “Oh my god… That feels fantastic… Kurt… Don’t stop… ghh…” Kurt flattens his tongue and takes a long swipe from his hole down to his balls. Kurt takes one in his mouth and slowly sucks, while his finger is circling Blaine’s hole. “Fucking hell… I need something inside me… More!” Blaine cries out. Kurt rolls his tongue and thrusts it as deep as it will go inside him. Every nerve in Blaine’s body is on edge. When Kurt slips a finger inside next to his tongue, Blaine whimpers at the feeling. Soon Kurt has three fingers inside, twisting and rubbing his prostrate. Blaine’s entire body trembles and drops, not able to hold the position any more. “I’m sorry.’ Blaine sobs. “Maybe if I do the advanced yoga class…” Blaine can feel the weight of Kurt’s naked body over him, and gentle kisses along his shoulders and neck. It grounds him and makes him feel safe. “Don’t ever say sorry for what you need or what you can’t handle. I need to know what makes you feel good. Now tell me what you want.” Blaine’s cock is still throbbing, and god, he wants more. “I want to feel you inside me so badly. I want… I want you to claim me as yours. If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll die. I’ve been fantasizing about it since I got home.” Kurt pushes off Blaine’s body and orders, “Then get on your knees.” Blaine’s haste is almost comical as he scrambles onto his knees. When he hears the condom wrapper crinkle, Blaine moves his hand to his cock. “Don’t touch yourself. That belongs to me… You belong to me,” Kurt growls. Blaine’s heart starts racing when he hears those words. Kurt’s cock quickly but smoothly enters him, and in this position, Blaine feels claimed. Once Blaine nods, Kurt starts thrusting quickly and holds on to Blaine’s hips for leverage. “Look at you taking it, Blaine. That tight little hole of yours is made for me.” Blaine moans and starts babbling, pushing his ass back to get even more of that incredible feeling. Kurt changes the angle every few thrusts until his cock finds Blaine’s prostrate. “There, Kurt!... Right there…. Don’t stop… Fucking Incredible…” Kurt leans forward and takes Blaine’s cock in his hand. “You are mine, mine, mine… No-one else will hear your moaning. No-one else will see you like this. No-one else will ever have you. Mine! Mine! Mine!” When Kurt twists his wrist at the top of Blaine’s cock, Blaine screams at the top of his lungs. There are streams of thick white cum shooting across the yoga mat. Blaine can feel Kurt go still as he orgasms ten seconds later. Once Kurt pulls out of him, Blaine collapses to the side of the mat. “Oh my god, Kurt. You were amazing.” “You were pretty amazing too. I think we ruined your yoga mat.” “I’ll buy a dozen more tomorrow. When you talked dirty to me… Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.” “Neither was I,” Kurt replies. “But I could tell that it really turned you on.” “You know, Kurt, I don’t always want sex fast and rough like that. I also love it when you’re caring and gentle, but what made it really special was that you did it for me.” “Hey, I had an incredible orgasm too. I like trying out different things with you. I love you.” “I love you too.” ***** Kurt drives up I-87 through the Catskill Mountains and Albany, and then keeps heading north. They stop at Mrs. London’s Bakery and Café in Saratoga Springs for lunch. “Oh my god, Blaine. I haven’t had a baguette sandwich this good since I was living in Paris.” “Saratoga Springs is an excellent choice, Kurt. The flat track horse racing is still going on and the Philadelphia Orchestra is currently at SPAC for its summer season. Where are we staying?” “We’re not staying in Saratoga, Blaine. It’s too busy and expensive in August. Besides, there’s media everywhere, what with Marylou Whitney and other high society people staying at their mansions for the month. This is just a lunch stop.” While Kurt is buying a dozen pains au chocolat from the bakery to go, Blaine wonders where they could possibly be going, because they are very close to the Canadian border. “Umm, Kurt. I don’t want to be a killjoy, but I didn’t bring my passport.” “You won’t need one, silly. But I promise it will feel like we’re in a different country because where we’re going is nothing like New York City.” They get back in the car and return to the Northway. They are soon in the Adirondack Mountains and leave the highway a few exits past Lake George. Blaine spots a sign that says “Welcome to Schroon Lake. Population 1,654.” Kurt drives on the road that borders the lake, then takes a right hand turn onto a short gravely drive. Blaine gasps when he sees what’s in front of them. There’s a small cute two-story log cabin with a wrap-around balcony on the top floor. In the front yard, there’s a campfire area surrounded by comfy-looking chairs. The sides and back of the cabin are completely surrounded by pine and maple trees, giving them privacy. Kurt rushes up the stairs on the side of the cabin and takes the key from under the welcome mat. Inside, the main room has a kitchen, a dining area and a living space with comfortable looking chairs and a sofa. There’s an old-fashioned cast iron wood-burning stove in the corner to keep the cabin warm during cold winter nights. Kurt opens the French doors that lead out to a balcony to take in the beautiful view of Schroon Lake. Blaine stands behind Kurt and wraps his arms around him. “I can’t believe that we’re still in New York State. It’s perfect. Where did you ever find this place?” “I had coffee after class with Nicole a month ago, and she was telling me about upstate New York, where she’s from. She showed me pictures of her aunt and uncle’s log cabin in the mountains, and it looked perfect for our getaway this month. Nicole contacted her aunt, and here we are,” Kurt explains. They explore the rest of the log cabin. There are two bedrooms and a bathroom on the main floor. They climb down the steps to the lower level and find a pool table, bunk beds, an old sectional sofa, and a large flat-screen TV. Kurt has packed for both of them, and when they go to unload the car, Blaine is surprised to find a large ice-chest and a half-dozen recyclable bags filled with groceries. “I knew we would be in the mountains, so I had Amy buy food supplies and prepare a few meals in advance. I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather being doing instead…” Kurt pulls Blaine in close and whispers “… with your body.” An hour later – after they’ve christened the pool table – they unpack their things, and Blaine fires up the BBQ while Kurt prepares a salad to accompany the lamb kebabs Amy prepared for them earlier. After dinner, they make a campfire and toast marshmallows for s’mores. Blaine loves the sticky kisses he gets after they’ve eaten the sweet treats. After adding a few logs to keep the campfire going, Blaine sits on Kurt’s lap, who’s positioned in the huge cushioned wooden Adirondack chair. Blaine nuzzles into Kurt’s chest, watching the sparks fly up from the fire and listening to nature’s sounds around them. “There’s lots of things to do in the area, Blaine. There are water skis and fishing rods to use with the boat if we want to. There’s tons of walking trails in the mountains. If it rains, we can go to Lake George and go shopping at the outlet mall and hang out in the indoor arcades. If we drive thirty minutes, we can…” “Do you know how much I love you,” Blaine interrupts. “I can’t believe you organized such a perfect vacation. There is nowhere I’d rather be right now than in your arms.” “I love you too, Mr. Cheesy. Is it okay if we talk about something that I’ve had on my mind lately? It’s about next week and starting back at school again. There’s a change in my plans.” Blaine nuzzles further into Kurt’s chest, worried about where the conversation will go. He’s been so happy living with Kurt these past two months, and Blaine doesn’t want it to ever end. Could this idyllic vacation be over before it really started? Blaine nods his head and whispers, “What change in plans? I thought we were happy together.” Kurt squeezes Blaine tightly. “Oh god, that didn’t come out right. We are happy together. I’ve never been happier in my life than during the past two months. It has more to do with FIT.” Blaine lets out the breath he’s been holding, relieved that Kurt isn’t breaking up with him. “I went to my academic advisor yesterday and told him I was changing my major. I want to study jewelry design. I loved the summer course, and there’s something about creating a work of art from metals and different color gem stones that people can wear that appeals to me. It’s really sparked something inside me. Now, when I look around, I see inspiration everywhere for brooches, rings and the like.” “I’m not really surprised. The things I had to do this summer to convince you to leave the jewelry workshop at FIT. I love the jewlery you’ve created and I think you have a special talent. And trust me, I see a lot of jewelry come across my desk at Vogue, so I know what I’m talking about.” “You don’t think I’m too fickle, changing my major?” “Nonsense, Kurt. You’re following your gut feeling about what’s right for you. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I’m going to do as well. I’m thinking of really giving songwriting a go. I have enough ideas for songs to put together an album and I want to spend some time with Marley Rose and flesh them out. I think she has the perfect voice for them.” “That’s fantastic, Blaine! Pretty soon you’ll be giving up your day job and pursuing your music.” “I’m not sure about that. New York City’s pretty expensive, and I still need to pay the mortgage.” “New York City is expensive when you live in a penthouse, and have a driver and housekeeper. But we don’t need to have that sort of lifestyle. Honestly, Blaine, I would be happy living in a shoebox as long as we’re living together.” Blaine suddenly sits up and wonders if Kurt really means it. When he looks at Kurt, he sees a warm hopeful expression. Kurt’s eyes are sparkling, and he’s wearing the same large smile that he had on the first day Blaine met him. “Do you mean…?” “Yes, Blaine. I want us to live together, now and for always. I like spending time with my best friend, my lover, my prince charming. I’ve been crazy happy since I returned to New York.” “Me too. I love living with you, Kurt. I can’t wait to get home each day to spend time with you.”

Kurt slaps his forearm and brushes off a dead mosquito. “Let’s take this inside before I’m eaten alive by bugs. I can think of a lot of ways we could be celebrating.” Author notes Song Blaine starts to compose - ‘Surprise, Surprise’ by Bruce Springsteen

Did you guess the identity of KrianFeels? Next up:  the last chapter (there’s also an epilogue).

[subcutaneous7]

Till You Come Back Home

I’m supposed to be taking a break from the Internet for my mental health, but I wrote this and it’s been burning inside me and I just need to put it out there. It’s set after last week’s Livewire episode, right after Mon El walks out of Kara’s apartment. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. I’ll be back soon. Here on A03.

***

The silence rang loudly in Kara’s ears, stinging like a thousand decibels as she sat still, staring blankly at the door. All she could do was breath, remind her eyes to blink when required, and refuse to fall apart. He didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve it, but she also didn’t know why it hurt this much. Hurt. Was that even the right word? This wasn’t the first time she’d been left alone with this kind of mess, the aftermath of someone else’s desires and regrets poured out on the table in front of her like she was supposed to know what to do with them, how to arrange the pieces and hand it all back. With Winn, at least she was able to voice something, anything, even if it had crushed him temporarily. With James, it was harder. It took longer to figure out why she didn’t feel the same way, but the rejection part was easier, or so she thought. Now, it turned out she’d lost them both, her two closest friends lying, choosing to walk away, to put themselves in danger, not caring about anything but their own egos and the selfish need to prove themselves at the highest cost. She couldn’t watch it unfold if they weren’t willing to listen, to at least learn alongside her instead of charging out on their own. Then again, she hadn’t even given them that option. Kara buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes, clutching her cheekbones as she rested her elbows on the table, resisting the urge to scream. Everything was changing so fast, even the good change felt like whiplash. She was so happy for Alex. She already loved Maggie like another sister, but it was still change. There was less time together as a family, more time left in solitude. And there, in that lonely space, was Mon El. Every moment they spent together sent up a million red flags, and yet, it felt familiar, comforting in a way she couldn’t explain without sounding weak or needy or damaged. There was nothing about him that made her feel good or supported or better than she was before he came into her life, but there he was. He was there when other people weren’t, when everyone else had their own lives and callings and demons to conquer. He wanted to help her, even if he didn’t know how, and more importantly, he wanted her. And the truth was, she wanted to be wanted. Just not by him. That’s why this sick, sinking feeling came when he told her. That’s why she felt the impulse to run, even if she had coaxed it out of him, demanded he tell her the real reason he wanted to be partners. Because the truth, while flattering and warming and reassuring on some level, was still not enough, but he hadn’t even given her the chance to make that decision, to come to her own conclusions. Instead, he chose to spill his guts, tell her to forget it all, pretend it never happened, leaving her once again, more alone than she’d ever felt. She sighed deeply, pushing away from the table, slowly making her way towards the bedroom, shrugging off her jacket as she flopped onto the bed. She knew she should sleep. That always made her feel better, even if she woke up still not having the answers to fix everything that was broken. But instead, she found herself scanning her phone, sifting through text messages, facing the urge to make one more call, one more attempt at the connection she craved before calling it a night. The phone rang, and rang some more. Panic began to sink in again, until finally, she heard the line pick up. “Yes, I’m still alive,” Cat teased. “No thanks to Supergirl.” “I know you would have done the same thing,” Kara argued, undoing her ponytail, letting her hair fan out across the bed. “And Supergirl wouldn’t have let her go if she didn’t know with absolute certainty you’d be safe.” “How can she be so sure of that?” “Oh, she has her ways,” Kara insisted.

“Mhmmm,” Cat smirked. “Please tell Supergirl she needs to stop using you as a go between. It’s getting old. Besides, it’s about time she joined the rest of us in the twenty-first century. I can get her an endorsement deal with Verizon and she’ll never have to pay a thing for long distance calls.” “I’ll be sure to relay the offer,” Kara laughed, rolling onto her side, biting her lip a little as she stared out the window, doing her best to keep the tears in check. “Ms. Grant…” “Yes?” she hummed playfully from much too far away. “What is it? I know that tone. The crinkle in your forehead is furrowed and you’re looking out on the city, worrying about something. Tell me.” “It’s just…” she exhaled, clutching a pillow to her chest. “Everything is…so much harder…since you left.” “Is Snapper being an ass again?” she clipped. “I told you not to listen to every idiotic thing that prick let’s fall out of his balding, mouth-breathing…” “No, it’s…not that,” Kara stopped her. “Snapper’s actually been better lately. This is more…personal.” “I see,” she swallowed. “Personal as in…the ever elusive Kara Danvers love life I’m always trying to scoop? Please. Do tell.” Kara hesitated. She knew this wasn’t a good idea, but couldn’t stop herself. “There was…” she began shakily. “…a boy here tonight. A man,” she corrected quickly, straightening her shoulders. “Even if he doesn’t always act like one.” “Not James?” Kara sighed, tracing her fingers across the pillow. She and Cat had been texting, calling off and on since she left, keeping it mostly to business, updates on Cat’s travels, how Carter was doing with his tutors. With the exception of this latest flurry about Livewire, she hadn’t really updated her about her own life or the people in it, both new and old, or how much things had shifted. “No,” she answered. “Not…not James.” “So there’s already someone new,” Cat spoke quietly. “No, there’s…he’s not…” this was a lot harder than she expected. “I don’t know why I feel like…we’re almost supposed to be together. Like that’s what everyone expects, because we come from the same…we’re so…similar. But also different! Very, very different. And he makes me feel…like he doesn’t listen. He’s self-absorbed and headstrong and not in a good way, in a really, really terrible, shitty, way actually…” “Well he’s making you curse,” Cat noted, a bit jealously. “So that’s something.” “No, it’s not,” Kara groaned. “It’s not…not anything I want. Not safe or healthy or…right for me. I know that now. I’m not as dim or naive as everyone thinks I am about these things.” “I’ve never thought that,” Cat assured, so much softer than Kara had ever heard her, it made her skin tingle where the phone rested against it. “Thank you,” she exhaled, closing her eyes, resting her hand on her chest. “It’s just…he’s here…when no one else is, and…I need that. I need…someone.” “Why does it have to be him?” Cat insisted. “If he makes you crazy, and not in a good way, run Kara, don’t walk. That is not the kind of relationship you want to get caught up in, believe me.” “But…” “No buts,” Cat interrupted, a little more firmly. “If you’re going to tell me these things, you’re going to have to hear what I think, and I think you know that I care about you too much to watch you give your power away to some emotionally stunted, manipulative man child who doesn’t deserve to inhabit the same planet as you, let alone…do anything else.” Kara couldn’t help but laugh curiously, shaking her head as she covered her lips with her fingers. “That’s…I didn’t say he was manipulative. How did you…” “I just know,” she sneered. “They’re all the same. Every last one.” “Isn’t that…just a little bit sexist?” “Not really,” she continued. “If you want someone to be there, to listen, you don’t need a man. You certainly don’t need him, but you already know that.” “Right,” Kara sat up, taking in every word. “But then…” “I’ll listen,” she offered softly, matter-of-factly. “I can be there…when you need me to be.” The words hit Kara somewhere deep within, burning her insides, soothing a sore spot she was reluctant to admit she’d been nursing. “Yeah, except…” she sighed, pulling her knees to her stomach. “…you’re not.” “Only because you didn’t ask me to be,” Cat reminded. “You didn’t want to let me in. Not in the way you really needed.” Kara’s mouth fell open. She felt her skin getting damp, flushing as she fell back again against the mattress. “Are we…” she swallowed, hard. “…are we talking about…” “Supergirl.” “Oh,” Kara cleared her throat, covering her eyes, hiding from her own silly assumptions. “Right…of…of course that’s…” “What else would we be talking about?” “I…” she couldn’t come up with the words. “I…I think…I should probably go.” Cat was silent, save for the sound of her breath. Kara wished to god she could see through the phone, know what her face was doing, how she was holding herself, but there was no guarantee that would make things any easier to verbalize. “Hmm,” Cat finally sighed. “It is getting late.” “I just…wanted to make sure you were safe.” “Of course,” Cat breathed. “Don’t worry. If I wasn’t, I’m sure you’d be the first to know.” More silence. Kara felt like she was waiting for more defensiveness, for her to continue denying that she and Supergirl were one in the same, that there was no go between. Instead, she said nothing, and that in and of itself was more than she’d ever been able to give. It was a start. “Kara?” “Yes?” she answered quickly. “Don’t…rush into anything,” she told her, though it sounded more like a request than a suggestion. “Things…can change…very quickly. You can have anything…everything…you deserve. Remember that.” Kara sat with the heaviness, the subtle and not-so-subtle meaning to her words, wanting so badly to dive, but instead, just listening, letting them sink in, saving them for another day, for when the time was right. “Okay,” she nodded, biting her lip again. “I’ll…remember. Thank you.” “Call me again soon,” Cat swallowed. “Even if there isn’t another homicidal ex-employee on the loose.” “I will,” Kara sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Take care, Cat.” “You too,” Cat sighed. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight.” Kara closed her eyes, letting the phone fall next to her, smiling to herself as she turned back to her view of the city. This, she thought, is a good feeling. Even if it was new. Even if it didn’t make sense, even if there was little hope of seeing it through. But it felt good. She felt good, and that, for tonight, was enough.

[turnupswritessometimes]

The One With the Zombies - AshEiji - Ch7

Title: The One With the Zombies

Chapter: 7

Word Count: 4022

Description:  Another what it says on the tin from me - it's a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren't surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang's leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn't last forever and soon it's only Ash and Eiji. And they're up against more than just zombies.

Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

7

Eiji had read Peter Pan once. He distinctly remembered a part that mentioned whenever the Lost Boys were growing up, Peter would take them out to the forest and would return on his own. With a grim look on his face. As he looked at Ash he decided that was what it had meant. It was exactly the look he had on his face as he walked through the door.

They'd been given one of the backrooms, still mostly full of storage boxes containing ready-made sweet n' sour sauce and curries and easy cook rice. Ash Lynx was important, apparently. Eiji had found that out as he'd sat on the air mattress, freshly washed but still with blood stuck under his finger nails. One of the boys - one of the younger ones - the one Eiji had heard Shorter call Soo-Ling - had leant against the door and stared at him.

"Do you even know who he is?" he has asked.

"Who?"

"That's Ash Lynx you're tagging along with."

"I know." Eiji's voice sounded strange to him. Much too calm and soft for how he was feeling inside. Inside was a maelstrom.

"But do you? Really?"

"He's a gang leader."

"He's the reason the gangs stopped fighting. He was the reason Chinatown was doing so good. He is a legend," Soo-Ling was almost misty eyed as he said it. "So who are you?"

"Tired," Eiji replied. Soo-Ling looked surprised at that answer and Eiji felt his cheeks grow hot. He laughed and finished drying his hair with a towel that stunk of mildew. "Eiji Okumura. I was a journalist. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"I was mainly just along for the ride."

Soo-Ling stared at him for a long time with dark eyes. "There must be more to you than that."

Eiji shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Soo-Ling kept staring, like he was waiting for a more satisfying response. When he didn't get one, he had sunk to the floor, pulling a D.S out of his hoodie pocket and playing it with earphones in. Eiji wasn't sure if that meant they were friends or not.

It seemed like an age before he was called away to go on watch, leaving Eiji alone again. That was when Ash returned. At first he had been relieved - incredibly relieved, because the blood had been scrubbed away and his hair had never looked so blonde.

Then he had seen the expression on Ash's face.

Neither of them said a word. Eiji wished he could - wished he did know what to say. But he knew there was nothing. Something had happened - something he could guess at and he knew that Ash wasn't going to talk about it.

Ash had lay on the air mattress without saying a word, his back to Eiji. Eiji was so exhausted that he followed suit, feeling aches pulse through his body from the bicycle ride.

He hadn't been sleeping when he heard it. The gasps of air of someone trying desperately to hide that they were crying. He half rolled over to see Ash's shoulders shaking.

It was always easier not to say a word. He shuffled around and slipped an arm around Ash, pulling him against him gently. Ash turned easily, folding himself under Eiji's chin and still trying to find air to gulp down.

Eiji just kept hold of him, their legs tangled in a mess and Ash's hair tickling his face. It smelt of the carbonic soap that had been in the bathroom.

He had laid there until dawn, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Eiji's fingers hovered over Ash's hair. He had the urge to brush it off of his face, but paused. He didn't know how Ash would take that.

Instead he crept out of the room. The main restaurant was full of people sitting around. Some were cleaning guns, others knives. Eiji wished he'd kept the chainsaw, though he had no idea how they would have carried it here.

Soo-Ling wasn't around, so he found Shorter. He was easy to spot - hunched over a takeaway box of noodles and slurping them into his mouth.

"Eiji, right?" he asked as Eiji jumped up onto the table next to him. His legs swung embarrassingly off the ground.

"Yes. Shorter, right?"

"That’s right."

"Is that your  real name?"

Shorter smiled at him. "A Chinese kid can't be called Shorter naturally?"

Eiji blinked and it made Shorter laugh. There was a lot less laughter here than there had been with Ash's gang and it sounded harsh against the silence. Everyone was drooping. They glanced around at the slightest of sounds or movements and moved rarely but quickly, as if they were trying to preserve their energy. Shorter seemed to be the only one unaffected, but he still had dark smudges under his eyes.

"How's Ash?" Shorter asked, continuing to eat.

"Sleeping."

"It's not his real name, you know."

"What?"

"Ash," Shorter paused to slurp some more noodles. Eiji waited. "That's not his real name. He chose it. Ash Lynx. Lynxes can't be tamed."

Eiji wasn't sure what to say to that. It made sense - Ash Lynx hadn't sounded like a name anyone could have been born with. He wanted to ask why he chose that – why it was important to him that lynxes can’t be tamed. He wanted to ask what Ash’s real name was. But it wasn’t Shorter’s place to say – he wanted to hear it from Ash. To see Ash open up to him.

It would probably never happen.

"He saw his brother, didn't he?" he asked instead.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Shorter seemed like he knew the answer already from the look that he gave Eiji.

"Not a word."

"There was a gunshot." Shorter said it so simply. It was a matter of fact. It told Eiji all he needed to know – all he had suspected.

"Poor Ash," he said, mainly to himself.

"Poor Ash, what?" a sudden, loud voice said in his ear. There was an arm around his shoulders, Shorter's too, and in the next moment Ash's face appeared between them. His eyes were still puffy and it sounded like he had a blocked nose. Eiji decided to ignore that.

"Poor Ash hasn't had a cigarette for two days," he said. He glanced at Shorter, who smiled at him.

"Yeah, and I'm not sharing mine."

"Are you kidding me? After all I've done for you?"

"Get fucked, Lynx."

"Fuck you." Ash blew his fringe from his face. "I know I should have brought that hand with us. Traded it."

"I wouldn't have let you," Eiji said. He leant against Ash slightly - just so that he could feel him there.

"What hand?"

"Eiji got a zombie hand attached to him. Snapped clean off."

"That's fucking sick!" Shorter was grinning. "Was it moving?"

"Ew, no." Eiji grimaced at the thought.

"Shame. Would have been really interesting." He gave Ash a sideways glance from over his sunglasses. “Would have been worth a pack of tobacco. Maybe even a little weed.”

“Why am I even friends with you?”

“Because I needed someone to protect my pretty face in juvie.” Shorter laughed, taking hold of Ash’s chin and making him laugh too.

"Juvie?" Eiji echoed.

"Juvenile hall," Ash explained and had the decency to look embarrassed. At the confused stare Eiji gave him, he continued. "Prison for kids."

"We got in trouble a fair bit in our youth," Shorter said. He leant into Ash, pushing him further into Eiji and almost sending the three of them off the edge of the table.

“Because you’re so wise and worldly,” Ash elbowed Shorter back.

Eiji didn't know why he was surprised. Of course Ash had been to juvenile hall. Of course he'd been arrested. He was a gang leader. But he had never thought of Ash intentionally breaking the law. Of robbing or shooting actual people - people with jobs and lives. Living people. He'd Ash would have a past like that. That made him a criminal.

But Ash was good. Ash was a good person, Eiji knew that.

So did it matter that he had been to ‘juvie?’ What if he had been to actual prison? Did that change things? Eiji didn’t think it did. It should have. But it didn’t. This was the same boy that defended his English, taught him how to shot a gun and who picked him up in a farmhouse. The same Ash. What did his past matter?

“I bet Eiji’s been in more trouble than us,” Shorter said, and he had the condescending tone of someone who knew the answer.

“No.” Eiji wasn’t sure if he imagined Ash’s arm squeezing him tighter or not. “I’m just – ordinary.”

“Yeah, that’s him. Completely ordinary, right?” Soo-Ling appeared, headphones hanging around his neck. He stared at Eiji as though he was waiting for him to come out with a confession.

“Soo-Ling – how’s it going?” Shorter asked.

The boy shrugged. “Everyone’s still dead. Found a quarter by the door, though.”

“Eiji’s not ordinary,” Ash said. His chin was buried in Eiji’s hair. “He’s Okumura Eiji, walker-slayer.”

“Just call them zombies!” Eiji turned, pushing against Ash’s arm so that he had space.

“Mmm, I don’t want to be offensive.” Ash was smirking, tilting his head to the side in mock-consideration.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re adorable.”

“We have a no kissing rule!” Soo-Ling said loudly.

That made Ash pull away suddenly – Eiji did too, fixing his gaze on the floor. He felt his face burning as Ash yelped, “what?!”

“The two of you were flirting.” Soo-Ling shrugged, taking a tray of Chinese food from a passing kid and tucking into it before they could object. They flipped the bird at him and he flipped one back. “I don’t want to see you making out.”

To his surprise, Ash laughed, slipping his arm back around Eiji’s shoulders.

“You know, one day, you might not mind it so much,” Ash said. His hand caught Eiji’s chin and suddenly he was staring into green eyes inches away from his face. He was sure that Ash would be able to hear his heartbeat. “Right, sweetie?”

Eiji froze. He couldn’t talk, swallow or blink. He could only stare at those eyes. Ash could smile with his eyes.

“Nope, still prefer a good chow mein,” Soo-Ling said, over Shorter’s loud laughter.

Ash paused, for a moment looking as though he was going to kiss Eiji’s forehead, but then he was turning away and pulling the cigarette from behind Shorter’s ear and slipping it into his mouth.

Shorter jumped up immediately, reaching for it. Ash managed to duck and weave away, still chuckling. The others started to cheer each of them on, shouting like they were watching an American Football game.

Eiji watched with a smile fixed on his face. He wanted to join in on the fun, but he felt strange. He hadn’t expected to talk things over with Ash about what had happened last night. But he also hadn’t expected the flirting. There were a lot of things he didn’t know about Ash, he realised. Then, there was a lot of things he wanted to know about Ash.

There was a lot of things he wanted to know about Ash, but he wasn’t sure if he could now that there had been the kiss. The kiss and the pet name that didn’t mean anything because it was all just teasing or adrenaline.

If his racing heart was anything to go by, at least.

*

Ash broke again that night. That was his own phrasing. It wasn’t like crying. It wasn’t mourning or grieving or sobbing. It was breaking cleanly in half like a geode and being completely naked. It was opening the floodgate of shit that he had done and being forced to think about it all until his brain decided to give up completely.

He had seen Griffin behind his eyelids all day. Griffin’s pale face and lank hair and defeated eyes. His smile as he said Ash was almost a man. It had almost been like he was proud. Proud. Of Ash. That didn’t make sense. And he knew he wouldn’t have been if Ash had told the truth. He wouldn’t have called Ash a man. Not in the slightest. He didn’t deserve that praise.

Eiji’s arms appeared again, pulling him close without a word. He was shaking slightly as he found a grip on Ash’s vest. But then he just lay there, holding Ash as if he would be able to catch all of the pieces breaking off of him. As if he would be able to put Ash back together with his bare hands.

If anyone could, it would be Eiji. Eiji, who had basically learnt English in two weeks. Eiji, who had stayed up with Ash every time he was on duty, just to keep him company. Eiji, who had a smile like a firework. He wasn’t jealous of that genuinely happy smile. He just wanted to watch the show.

And Eiji had been the one who looked terrified when Ash had put his arm around him. When he had turned on the charm partly to tease him – partly to see if he would go along with it. He wasn’t sure if he had wanted Eiji to go along with it. How quickly would his stomach turn? And he wasn’t sure how he felt about the blushing, staring face. He had looked almost scared.

Ash hadn’t wanted him to be scared. But it was probably better than going along with it without hesitation. Maybe it was worth it – just to see that blush. It had made Ash’s heart pound. He wasn’t sure what was up with that.

He gripped Eiji’s t-shirt in his hands to get his attention – just in case he had somehow fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Eiji was quiet for a moment. His hand moved up Ash’s back, as if he was expecting him to move back. He stayed frozen. There was a tiny blue light from a freezer at the back, but It wasn’t enough to see by. Just to help provide silhouettes.

“Ash?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ash continued.

“It was what you had to do,” Eiji murmured.

That made Ash frown. It clicked in the next moment. “You’re talking about the other night.”

“You’re not?”

“I meant earlier.”

“Oh,” Eiji took a breath. “It was fine.” The breath meant that it wasn’t fine. Not really. “We don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to talk about anything.”

“I don’t know what to talk about,” Ash whispered. He tightened his grip, pulling Eiji towards him as if he would be able to hide in his chest. “We weren’t close. Not anymore. When I was a kid. Before he left. Before I left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Eiji’s thumb started to rub circles into the small of Ash’s back. “Let me be sorry anyway.”

His breath escaped him a burst that strained his skin like he was a balloon. Eiji pressed him closer without saying a word.

“I don’t know what I was thinking earlier.” He continued.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eiji said. He swallowed and his voice sounded thick when he continued. “Let’s just not talk about it.”

So Ash did. He kept quiet and thought about how warm Eiji’s arms were around him. About Eiji’s smell filling his senses. Carbolic soap. He could fall asleep like this. He felt safe and comfortable.

"Ash?" Eiji asked. He managed to make a small sound in response. "Have you heard from Ibe-san?"

"No." Ash could feel Eiji's heart sinking. "He probably has his phone off. To keep his battery."

"'Mm."

"You'll be safe here, with Shorter. Until they get here."

"Why are you using 'you?'"

"What do you mean?"

"You said I'll be safe here until Ibe-san comes. What about you?"

Ash took a breath. He raised a hand without meaning to and found his fingers in Eiji's thick hair.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay with me."

He had been thinking it all day. Since yesterday. It was something that was much easier to say in the dark.

"I'm not leaving you," Eiji said, like it was obvious.

"Don't be stupid, Eiji." Ash sat up, scattering the old picnic blanket and hoodies they had been using as duvets. "You'll be perfectly fine with Max and Ibe. He's meant to be looking after you, right? I'm not-"

"You've done a better job of saving my life than Ibe-san did." Eiji sat too and the blue spark from the machine was reflected in his eyes. "You saved my life."

"I'm the reason your life was in danger."

"My life would have been in danger anyway."

"This isn't up for debate. I'm not - I'm not someone you should be around."

"There's no debate. I'm staying."

Ash huffed and wiped the leftover tears from his face with the palm of his hand. He stayed staring at the door with gritted teeth so that he wouldn't fall for those puppy dog eyes.

"No. You're not."

"I am." Eiji said, and when Ash glanced over he saw that Eiji had his arms crossed. " Of course I would want to be around you. You're my best friend."

"You've known me for two weeks."

"And I feel closer to you than any of my friends in Japan."

"Eiji-"

"What makes you someone I can't be around?"

There was a sudden knock on the door. It was so loud and abrupt that Ash almost jumped. Eiji did, jogging the air mattress.

"If you're not going to sleep, then could you go on watch?"

It was Shorter's voice and he sounded amused.

"Sure," Ash replied, without looking at Eiji. He pulled the door to the storeroom shut and had every intention of just leaving. But then he glanced back. Eiji was staring at him with a determined expression on his face.

He hadn't won the argument.

"What makes you someone he doesn't want to be around, Ash?" Shorter was smiling slightly as he kept pace with him over to the door.

“You can choose from a list of slurs. Whore is a popular one.”

“You honestly think he’ll care?”

“Of course, he fucking will.”

“Because I care so much, you know.” Shorter’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. He held out a rollie between his fingers, almost taunting Ash with it. Ash took it, flicking sparks from his lighter as he lit it. He held it in his mouth, but didn’t breathe in.

“You’re different.” Ash shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, hunching his shoulders as he stared out onto the empty street. It was normally still full of taxis and tourists.

“I’m not pretty?” Shorter raised an eyebrow. He took a drag from his own cigarette and the smoke came out in puffs.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous. And you grew up with this life.” Ash finally took a drag, taking the cigarette from between his lips. Fuck, it felt good. He had known the craving was bad – enough to drive him insane. He hadn’t known how deep the relief would be.

"With zombies?"

Ash looked at him and simply rolled his eyes. Shorter just laughed.

"What did you think would happen? That you'd never meet someone normal and settle down?"

"Did you?"

"Of course.” Shorter leant against the doorframe. “Cute house, cute kids, cute wife.”

“Cute.”

“’Course, you might want to change the cute wife part.”

“Is this a roundabout way of asking me if I’m gay?”

Shorter shrugged.

“Fucking Max asked me the same thing.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Some dick my brother knew.” Ash paused. “You know, just because some pedo made me blow him doesn’t mean I’m gay.”

It was hard to say, as if he was talking through a hard lump in his throat. He heard his voice crack and gritted his teeth. Tobacco fell from the end of his cigarette and onto the floor. It curled there like tiny worms.

“That wasn’t what I was thinking.” Shorter said. His voice was soft and gentle. Like he was trying to tame a wild horse.

Ash blew his bangs away from his face and didn’t reply. There was a sick feeling settling himself in his stomach – fighting against the anger in his chest.

“I was thinking of the way that you look at him.” Shorter continued.

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“You let your guard down around him. I’ve never seen you do that before. With anyone,” Shorter said. “The fact that he’s a guy doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it fucking does.”

“Why?”

Ash didn’t look at him. He shrugged his shoulders and felt younger than ever. It did. It did matter. Of course it did, because Ash’s body had not been his own. His sexuality hadn’t been up for debate. It was finally his. He was finally free of what everyone had stuck on his back.

“It doesn’t matter what I am,” Ash said. “He’s not. Eiji’s not-“

Not like the others. Wouldn’t be like the others. But how would Ash know? Eiji had saved his life. He trusted him. Completely. Eiji was different.

“How do you know?”

Ash tossed the cigarette onto the floor and felt the heat through the thin sole of his trainer. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it matter. These weren’t things that he could think about.

They were things he didn’t want to think about. It meant acknowledging too much. Dealing with too many feelings that he’d set on fire long ago.

"I don't think past tomorrow,” he said.

"We'll survive this, Ash."

"And how are you so confident?" Ash rested his head on the doorframe, turning to look at Shorter. He could feel a smile on his face, despite his better judgement.

"Because I'm me." Shorter shrugged. "And when this is all over, you better not let that boy go."

He turned to leave, the slope of his shoulders showing how utterly exhausted he was.

"Who are you, his mother?"

"If that's what it takes to see you smile."

Ash gave a disbelieving huff, turning his attention back to the street.

He had been smiling, hadn't he? He smiled all the time. No, it wasn't a smile, it was a smirk. Ash smirked at people. But there had been times where that smirk had turned into something else. Those times were normally with Eiji. When Eiji was grinning up at him with the eyes of a puppy. As if Ash was his friend unconditionally.

And maybe he was. Maybe he would be.

But Ash couldn't take that chance. He couldn’t afford to take that chance. It was selfish, but he wanted to keep those puppy dog eyes for as long as he could. Before he had to say goodbye. There was a feeling in his gut that told him this wasn't going to last. It couldn't last.

A walker was stumbling towards him. Its arms jerked in front of it as if it wanted to find its way and yet realised how cliche it was.

Ash took the shotgun that was resting on the side of the door and checked the silencer was on it. He flicked the safety off and took aim. Probably, he could have left it to shuffle past, but he was pissed off now.

It turned to him. For a moment, he could see Griffin's features staring back at him. The same blank eyes.

But then he blinked and this was an entirely different man. A man with a beard and wrinkles around his eyes.

Ash took the shot. The men fell with a soft thump to the floor.

It was easy. Too easy. The kind of easy that made him think Shorter could be right - that there was an end to all this.

And yet he could see more shapes down the road. Could hear a building front being torn into.

They may have been safe for now, but it was still impossible to think past tomorrow.