#i saw some things i wanted to fix (after posting to twitter. ouch) so. did that

[marchsage]

ranger leader lance for lance week on twitter!! how could he resist such a noble calling

4th prompt - different occupation

[sourbat]

Here’s a little something inspired by a twitter post by @lampmeeting. Thank you for letting me use your setting and allowing explore this idea :)

Summary: Magnus comes to his apartment after a long day from work and realizes he forgot Toki was coming to see him.

Pair: Toki and Magnus

Rating: T for language

He forgot Toki was due to arrive today. Well, that wasn’t entirely true: Magnus pretty much had the date engrained in every facet of his being, with the memo saved on both calendar and the company phone. But somewhere between being asked to pick up Dennis’ shift, spending a solid half hour trying to help sort a fight between two live-ins, being snubbed by the supervisor for appearing less than favorable around clients and forgetting to clock out at lunch (again), and having the misfortune of being the only one on duty with the knowledge to replace a flat tire, it must have slipped his mind. Then, to top it all off, Magnus very stupidly accepted staying behind to help clean the cafeteria’s storeroom. He did it despite already being in a mood, sore from kneeling and installing a new wheel for the company van, because he thought it might amount to some small, positive thing. His supervisor redacting their previous statement about him, or some co-worker offering a smile instead of their usual candor regarding him and his temperament. It didn’t, and instead of clocking out at half past three like he planned, didn’t reach the floor to his apartment until five in the evening, where he found Toki already situated, phone at hand and a few klokateers at his side.

Toki lifted his head, eyes aglow with immediate interest the moment Magnus shut the door behind him. “Hiya Magnus!”

Unprepared, and quite shocked to see the younger man sitting amongst his furniture, Magnus spent a good second taking in the scene. There was Toki, smiling at him. Klokateers nodding and offering their silent warnings before slipping past and offering the two their privacy. His lower back twinging with icy stings. The clock on the microwave indicating the hour. The reminder on his calendar that Toki would be arriving around half past four. Toki approaching and snatching him by the hand. The weight of his work boots tripling, and the insane pang his arches endured with every step.

“Toki, you’re here?” he muttered amid his mental decay, and still pondered and repeated as Toki dragged him to the couch. He fell into the stiff cushion, good eye still fixed on the younger man’s form, hoping that this was all a terrible mistake, and Toki hadn’t just spent half an hour waiting for him.

A friendly peck on the cheek proved otherwise.

“You’re here,” Magnus muttered, palm resting against the freshly planted kiss. Shit, you’re here.”

“Yeps,” Toki replied joyfully, which only served to eat at Magnus’ already steeping guilt. He grabbed a collection of reusable bags, hoisting them and placing them on top of his laps for Magnus to view. “Broughts a lot of things this times. And now you ams here, so we can haves…”

Magnus raised his heavy head when he noticed Toki suddenly go silent. A quick glance provided a hint something was amiss, and when Magnus stopped trying to free his knotted shoelace, saw Toki wearing the oddest of looks.

“Something wrong?”

“Ams ok?”

Magnus dropped his leg. “What?”

“Looks a little tireds,” Toki answered with a small, worried pout. Again, it only made Magnus painfully aware of how late he was, and he regretted bothering to stay behind in the first place. Toki, how on earth did he forget Toki was visiting him today? And now the guy was staring at him like he was expecting Magnus to break down and admit he accidentally set the kitchen on fire. Well, it almost felt like it. Magnus would have rather that happen than half the other crap that occurred today. That would have been a decent enough excuse for being late. There was no way he was going to bring up what actually occurred. No point in wasting Toki’s precious time. The guy traveled thousands of miles to be here. It was Magnus’ turn to play good host.

With that in mind, Magnus pasted on a smile. He sucked in a sharp breath and swallowed the pain rooted in his lower back and legs, and said, “Well, I hung around work longer than normal.”

“Oh, ams dat why you ams so late?”

Ouch. Well, ok.

Pulling in his bottom lip for a bite, Magnus gave a slight nod. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, ams ok,” Toki insisted, perking his shoulder up and lifting the ends of his pout into a hopeful smile. “I dids say you should tries to make more friends here.”

“You did say that,” Magnus replied, trying to sound more relieved than annoyed by his current prospects.

If only Toki knew how half the staff reacted whenever he moseyed into a room, or how impatient and passive-aggressive his supervisor turned when he performed an action that was deemed subpar, or “not friendly enough,” whatever the hell that meant. As far as friends go, Magnus had several twenty-somethings bothering him over the smallest thing, and never picking up when he wanted space, or–

“So, why don’t you tells Toki abouts your day?”

Magnus tugged at a shoestring, eye wincing at the dull sting that quaked in his arch. Was it a blister, or just plain exhaustion? Then arrived the question, and when Magnus broke from his strain of thought, found Toki now inching closer with his round blue eyes locked on him.

With the same, tight smile, Magnus shook his head and waggled a finger at the encroaching Toki. “Nah, give me a moment. I’ll be ready to head out in a second.”

He returned to his work boots and tugged at the heel, wriggling it free as best he could without reawakening another sharp pang. Magnus yanked off the first, withholding a sigh he had building inside of him from the anticipation. He wiggled his free foot from its sock. Thankfully, no blisters, but a day on his feet in heavy work boots had left its effect. Hopefully Toki was in a limo mood today, and not a walking and exploring one.

“Wants some helps?” 

Magnus was busy working the second boot when a hand entered his vision, sliding over his own. Soft, large and warm. Toki’s hands. Magnus’s eyes widened at the sight of Toki fingers sliding over his, reaching for the laces and somehow undoing the knot with graceful ease. Magnus uttered a single complaint, a noise that suggested shame for being caught in a moment of weakness, but quickly gave in to watch Toki near him, yank off the second boot and then bring his hands to cup and hold Magnus by the heel. Another, gentler yank, and cold air washed over his afflicted foot. A finger glided down the sole, and Magnus flinched. It wasn’t the tickle, but the irritating flash of pain that racked up the foot, raced up his leg and added to the collective pain settled in his lower back.

Toki’s eyes fixed on his reaction. “Oh, wowee. Magnus, what did you and your pals do all days? Runs around in circles?”

“Something like that,” Magnus said, eye wincing right as Toki began squeezing his arch. He bit his tongue, keeping as straight a face as he could. Was this happening? Was Toki aware of what he was doing?

“Oh? Tell Tokis?”

Another controlled squeeze suggested so. Magnus had had the pleasure of dealing with a playful Toki. A grabby Toki. This was not the same. This was two thumbs firmly pressed into sore muscles, massaging circles and breaking down tight knots built up from stress and overwork. This was another glimpse at a more mature Toki that Magnus had difficulty accepting, yet wanted to know better. Worst, this was yet another damn instance where he had messed up, and now Toki was forced to adjust. Well, not this time.

“In a bit. You said you wanted to catch a flick, right?” Magnus asked, then tried to retract his foot from Toki’s grip. “Let me put on a pair and we can talk on the way to my car. Or your limo.”

“Cans waits,” Toki declared, then gave Magnus’ foot another squeeze. This time, Magnus couldn’t stop a small shime from slipping past. The ache was pulsed up his ankle and leg, to his back. Feeling the building pressure, Magnus sank into the furniture. Let outstretched, Toki ran his hands up Magnus’ leg, taking ruddy work pants into his large hands. “Your foots ams swollen.”

“I know, man.”

Swollen feet was just the half of it. He had spent his entire day going from one part of the rehabilitation home, a good hour working in a garage without air conditioner, and another one hauling boxes of nonperishables from one shelf to another. He reeked, smelled like sweat, dust and tomato paste, and was willing to bet he looked as wretched as he felt. He should have stayed behind. He should have taken a shower, and been there at the door to greet Toki after a long flight. 

“Magnus?” Toki said as he massaged the sensitive arch. The relief that spilled from the contact had Magnus gripping the pillow. He sighed, feeling the day’s events stretch out before him. Why did he push back his lunch break and take that shift? Why did he argue with the residents over petty shit like who had the right to the remote, or this week’s latest gossip magazine? Why did he try, when it always amounted to him being scolded for raising his voice, for snapping back, or getting frustrated?

Eyes on the ceiling, Magnus answered: “Yeah?”

“How was your day?”

And if he missed his original lunch break, then wouldn’t it make sense to just not get upset over him forgetting to clock out for a late lunch?  It wasn’t like he was purposefully trying to break the rules. He was trying to be a team player, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered with missing his lunch, or helped clean the storeroom. And how was it none of these kids knew how to change a flat?

“Magnus?”

A sigh. “I’ll be real with you, dude: it’s not as exciting as you think.”

“So? Cames to sees you.”

It sounded so small, so sad, that Magnus tore from his silent tribulations to check on Toki. The massage continued, still solid and firm, but Toki’s head hung a little low. Honey brown hair partly concealed a growing frown. Reclined in his seat, the pain in Magnus’ back had started to dull, but a new pain bubbled up his throat as he watched Toki’s bottom lip start to push out. The poor kid was just trying to create small talk, and here he was doing everything in his power to avoid a conversation.

If only he had anything worth talking about.

Magnus pulled himself into a seated position, letting his feet drop to the floor. The pain returned, but Magnus didn’t mind. Feet now hanging, he reached and took Toki’s now freed hands into his.

“You came to have fun,” he stated, watching Toki’s brows and slightly parted mouth go crooked.

“No. Toki cames to be with you,” he insisted, then rubbed his thumbs into Magnus’ tired palms. That, too, was a relief. “Ams not doing that rights now?”

Such kind words. Magnus found little reason to accuse Toki of being deceitful, but refused to accept that after a long flight, Toki was perfectly fine with spending and evening cooped up inside of a drafty apartment, rubbing his feet while he bitched and moaned about his stupid day.

He let out a heavy, staggered sigh. “Toki, you can’t tell me you’re fine with sitting and listening to me complain about my shitty day.”

So, stupid. Why the hell did he stay behind to help with the storeroom? He could be out right now, out with Toki at some loud club. How long had Toki waited for him? He’d been so selfish, thinking only about himself, that he failed to ask when he finally arrived. He owed Toki a nice evening. Toki came to have fun, to explore the rest of Phoenix and get lost in the canyons.

A hand lifted him by the chin. In front of him, Magnus watched Toki’s face inch close, until there was nothing for him to do but meet the younger man in the eyes.

“Cant’s have fun if you ams in pains,” Toki replied softly. His thumb rolled across Magnus’ bristly chin, coaxing a reaction. Hesitantly, Magnus drew forward, closing the gap. A pain nestled in his chest as he brought his lips to meet Toki.  Another hand, wrapped around his lower waist and back, melted it away. “Remembers, we ams boyfriends now,” Toki said as they parted, “So… let’s Toki helps. I’ll fix your foots, and you can tell me abouts your day, okays?”

The word hung high, alien and sounding so juvenile compared to what Manus had grown accustomed to. But upon hearing it, he couldn’t help but chuckle, letting his face burn a little with surprise that Toki would excitedly point it out, use it as a weapon against him to show that he cared.

“Fine,” he answered stiffly and, after allowing himself a second to relax, added, “yeah.”

Toki fidgeted, excited by the agreement. Already, Magnus’ legs were in the process of gliding back up to the cushions when Toki grabbed and lifted his left by the heel. Caught off-guard, Magnus slipped and fell back into the stiff cushions. The rough bounce awakened every sore part of his body, and with it, today’s memories. Tender fingers rolled over his tired muscles, and while Magnus stared up at the slow moving ceiling fan, felt the entire weight of the day start to crush him.

Above, Toki’s voice rang clear. “So, where does you wanna start?”

Magnus blinked. A warm sting burned at the edge of his eyes.

“…my supervisor’s a dick.”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Lost Time

Chris becomes your temporary roommate. You think all he sees you as is a little sister, but when the rest of the world starts to notice how close you are, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more there.

-

           “You look like you’ve been through hell,” you pointed out as Chris took a seat in the makeup trailer beside you. His makeup artist was on the way, and he looked like he needed it. His eyes were exhausted, his body was slumped over slightly, and you could tell that his head had nothing in it.

           “Yeah, you’re telling me,” he sighed. “The house flooded last night in that storm. Insurance guys have been there since sunrise.”

           “Ouch,” you responded.

           “And they said it’ll be a week before they can get me back in there. If not longer.”

           “You can stay with me,” you volunteered. He scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Really, Chris. I have a guest bedroom that I don’t even use. Don’t pay for a hotel or something. I’m right down the street, too.” He looked at you, thinking you were joking, but you weren’t. You were completely serious.

           “Are you sure?”

           “Yeah. Just take my key and get settled in since you finish before me today.” You reached for your key ring and handed him the apartment key. This was a definite role reversal; it was usually Chris that was taking care of you, making sure you ate, helping you move furniture around or helping you fix your car, because you were all but his little sister when it came to things like that. But this time, he needed you, and you’d be there.

           “Thanks, Y/n,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver.” You looked at the time and saw you were due back on set, so you stood up and walked out of the trailer. You sent Chris your address, even though you knew he already had it, and the code to get into the apartment complex. He said he was heading over soon so you just went on about your day.

           When you got home that afternoon he was already settled in – you could see that he’d brought a few bags over, just enough to get him through until he could go home again, and he was cooking in the kitchen you’d used a total of three or four times.

           “I honestly didn’t even know that oven worked,” you remarked as you saw him pre-heating it. You were only half joking. “What are you making?”

           “Lasagna. I got groceries. I figured the least I can do is cook for you.”

           “Why didn’t I get another roommate?” You wondered out loud. Chris chuckled. “I’m going to take a shower.” You went into your bathroom and took a shower, then headed back out to the kitchen.

           “You really need some more plates,” Chris said as he watched you emerge from your bedroom. “And some silverware that isn’t plastic. And you should probably have more than one pan, too.” You rolled your eyes.

           “I’m 22, Chris, people in my generation don’t cook. I have three plates, that’s enough.”

           “People in mine do,” he replied, “and while I’m here you will never starve.”

           “My hero.” You reached into the fridge to see that he had gotten groceries, and that most of them would be absolutely no use to you after he left. He had gotten you some more beer, thankfully, and you grabbed two of them. You’d had a long day of stunts and the only thing you wanted was some food and alcohol.

           You set the table with two sets of plastic everything, further proving Chris’s point that you needed to get some real silverware, and helped him bring the food over. You talked mostly about his house and the fact that it was a few thousand dollars worth of damage, but luckily he’d gotten home in time to move the more valuable stuff up to the second floor. He had just picked out his backsplash three months ago and was having to do it all over again. You felt bad, really bad.

           “I’m sorry I’m being such a bummer,” he said as he handed you a plate to start washing in the sink. Conveniently, your dishwasher was broken. “But thanks for letting me stay here. It means a lot.” He gave you a little smile and you just made it a point to hit his shoulder with yours.

           “That’s what friends do,” you said with a shrug. You finished doing the dishes and with a friendly hug, he was excusing himself. “By the way, the water knobs in your bathroom are switched. Use the cold for hot and hot for cold. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed.” He shrugged.

           “I’ll take a look at it over the weekend. Thanks.” He put a hand on your back and you watched as he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You finished putting the leftovers up for lunch tomorrow, putting the few clean dishes you had away, and went to bed on your own.

           You quickly grew used to having Chris around. You had someone to drive to and from with, you had someone to watch stupid movies with, and you had someone to cook dinner. It was nice. Really nice. So nice that even when he was able to go back to his house, he stayed with you an extra nice. And then he asked you if you wanted to split hotels during the press tour, since most of your interviews were scheduled together, and of course you said yes. You loved hanging out with him. And as you did, you slowly realized that you had a crush on him. You knew he obviously didn’t feel the same way about you, and you definitely weren’t going to confront him about it. You assumed he just saw you as a little sister – that’s what you really would be, anyway, with such a dramatic age gap. So when he came out in just a towel your first night there, you couldn’t help but scan up and down his chest as he reached for clothes in his bag. You just kept scrolling through your phone, looking at some of your mentions on Twitter.

           “Good news and bad news,” you said eventually as he finally emerged from the bathroom for the last time.

           “Ooh, do tell. Bad news first.”

           “Bad news is that I didn’t realize how bad the zit on my chin was until someone posted about it,” you started. He chuckled. “And the good news is that the internet loves our friendship and wants to see the rest of the press tour.”

           “What, were you worried about it?” You shook your head.

           “Not really, no. I think we’re friends.” Chris smiled at you, his award-winning, nominated for the sexiest man alive smile, and took a little bit too long to answer you.

           “Besties, right?” You rolled your eyes.

           “Are you done in the bathroom?”

           “Yep.” You stood up, only realizing that your shorts were shorter now that you’d been sitting, and they literally exposed almost your entire ass. But Chris wasn’t looking, thankfully, so you didn’t mention it. You just shoved the shorts in the bottom of your bag the next day, hoping they wouldn’t make an appearance.

           You and Chris only continued to get closer over the course of the press tour – you would gradually sit close to each other until his arm was around your shoulder during interviews, or he would always put a hand on your back to let you walk in front of him. He would always introduce you to interviewers first, or let you get into the car first. He brought you coffee and he knew exactly how you liked it, and if you tried to Venmo him for it he would just give it right back. The last interview of the press tour was a night on Jimmy Fallon, and it was safe to say that you were nervous as hell.

           “You’re going to be fine,” Chris said to you as the stage assistants hooked a microphone to his waist. “You look beautiful. And you’re a natural, you’ll be fine up there.” You looked down at the heels you were wearing. They were far too expensive to be your own, but you liked them. They made you almost tall enough to touch Chris’s shoulders without standing on your toes.

           “I’m just so nervous still,” you replied, “I’ve never done a talk show before.” Chris walked over to you when they finished him and pulled you in for a quick hug.

           “You’re gonna do amazing. Just look at me if you need help, okay? We went over most of the questions earlier in the car, remember?” You nodded. His large hand splayed across your back, trying to make you feel better. “You want me to hold your hand on the way out?”

           “Chris!” You laughed.

           “I’m serious!”

           “CHRIS EVANS, Y/N, ON IN A MINUTE! PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE STAGE!” The intercom said loudly. Chris offered you his hand, and you took it. He walked beside you, not in front of you or behind you, and that was your first indication that maybe you weren’t crazy and maybe he liked you too. He held your hand all the way until you were walking on stage, when he just smiled at you and said you’d be fine. He let you go first, and like you had in interviews before, you ended up so close to him that his arm was behind you on the couch.

           “You two are kind of mortal enemies to begin with in the movie, do you think that speaks true to your relationship at all when you were filming?”

           “Oh, God, no,” Chris replied, “from the moment I met her I knew she was going to be one of my favorite people. And my house actually flooded a couple months ago so we were temporary roomies there and we’ve been together on the press tour mostly just because it’s so much cheaper and easier on the studio, so I’d say we’re pretty good friends.” Jimmy smiled.

           “Well, now that you think you’re pretty good friends, I’ve actually got a game for you. Chris, you’ve played this before, only you knew it as Know Your Bro. For the two of you, Y/n, if I could just get you to put these headphones on…” You aced the game, as you expected, and Chris only got one question wrong. It finally ended and as soon as you got back to the hotel you were staying at, you passed out. And you woke up the next morning, the morning of the premiere, to a million or so Tweets and tagged posts.

           You rolled over to see that Chris was still in bed, scrolling on his phone. He smiled when he saw you.

           “I’m Postmating some coffee in, do you want the usual?”

           “Thank you.” You sat up a little, starting to go through your phone. Oh, no. People really took what Chris said to heart. As in, they thought you were together. The entire world thought you were together, citing multiple interviews, the way Chris was always holding you somehow, the way he was always talking about you, and what he’d said last night on Fallon. Even your sister texted you asking if you were dating.

           “Oh, my God,” you said out loud.

           “What?” He asked.

           “People think we’re together.”

           “Yeah, I figured that might happen. Just ignore it and we’ll say something about it tonight at the premiere, alright?”

           “Chris, you’re literally my date to the premiere.” He shrugged.

           “So? Let people think what they wanna think. And, besides, would it really be that bad to pretend like we’re dating? You’re breakin’ my heart here.” You laughed.

           “No, I guess not.” Chris’s phone chimed about the coffee.

           “I’ll be back up in a minute.” Chris got back with the coffee, handing you yours, and you watched a quick episode of what was on TV before starting to get ready. You were being put in separate suites at a different hotel to get ready, and you had to admit that you were having not only regular anxiety but separation anxiety. It was the first time you’d been without Chris to tell you to calm down in months. And he evidently couldn’t stay away, either, because he made an excuse to bring you another coffee before they started on your makeup.

           “Thank you so much,” you said as he handed it to you. You made grabby hands toward it until the straw was in your mouth and you were tasting the sweetness of the milk and espresso mixed together.

           “Anything for you. I’ll pick you up at six and we can walk down together,” he said. “I’ll see you then, sweetheart, alright?” You nodded, smiling, and with a wink he left the room and you were alone. You couldn’t help but squeal on the inside. You knew there was still no way he probably liked you the way that you liked him, and the way that the internet seemed to think he did, but you were still giddy. You loved spending time with him, even if it didn’t count as a date. You met him outside the hotel suite at the exact time he told you to – and, like you’d picked out previously, your dress matched his suit. If this didn’t fuel the rumors, nothing would.

           “You look so gorgeous,” he said as he approached you, smiling at you as he looked at your dress.

           “You look pretty handsome yourself,” you responded. He did. His beard was finally tamed, his jacket and pants a burgundy velvet that matched the color of pink you were wearing. “Shall we?”

           “We shall.” He took your arm and pressed the button for the elevator. He helped you in, too, making sure you didn’t slip on your dress train or the heels that were far too high for you. The elevator was ridiculously slow to shut the doors back, so much so that Chris had pressed the button to get the doors to close. “This elevator hates us,” he said.

           “Yeah, it was doing that earlier,” you replied. The doors finally creaked shut and you could feel it starting to move. You stood toward the back, in case someone else got on, and Chris was looking through his phone. And then the elevator stopped. Just stopped. Just straight up fucking stopped.

           “Oh, no,” Chris said quietly. He pushed the emergency stop button, then the call button. The hotel confirmed that the elevator was stuck, and that they’d call someone to help get them out.

           “Oh, God,” you sighed. “This is the worst thing that could have possibly happened. We’re going to be late to our own movie, and then people will probably think something else happened, and then…” Chris looked back at you.

           “Why are you so stressed out about what other people think of us?” You shrugged, blushing, and realized that the air in the elevator was much colder than the rest of the hotel. Chris must have noticed, because before you even answered he was putting his jacket around your shoulders.

           “Because,” you sighed, “I just do, okay?” He looked you up and down before shaking his head.

           “I don’t believe you. There’s another reason.” You looked at him and then looked away again, looking down at the carpet on the floor.

           “Because I don’t want you to think that there’s any truth to it. Because it would basically be career suicide for you and I don’t want to do that to you.” He scoffed.

           “Career suicide? What? It doesn’t matter if we’re friends or we’re dating, that has absolutely nothing to do with anything.”

           “But it does. I’m 22, Chris, I’m basically still a kid, and it doesn’t matter if I have a crush on you or not. It just matters that the rest of the world would judge you and me and they already do and I just…” You sighed, watching as realization took over his face.

           “That’s why you care so much,” he understood. “Because you like me.”

           “No, I…”

           “Don’t try and turn it around now, you already said something so now we have to talk about it.”

           “Or we could just forget about it. Because it could ruin things, and that’s why I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

           “What if I don’t care if it ruined anything?” He asked. You looked up at him, tilting your head to the side. “What if I like you? Did you ever think that might be a possibility?”

           “No, not really,” you admitted. “Because you’re… You.”

           “And you’re you. And what if I want the world to think we’re together because I want to be together and I just didn’t know how to tell you because I was terrified it would ruin everything?” Your heart sank a little. Did he really think that? All this time?

           “We really wasted all that time, didn’t we?” You asked. He nodded, a little smile coming over his face. “I’m sorry, Chris. I was so stupid.”

           “No, Y/n, I was the stupid one.” He walked forward to you, closing the distance between you, and looked down at you. The elevator call was still on, you realized, and whoever was on the line could hear you. You cocked your head at it.

           “Mr. Evans, the elevator will be manually brought down to the first floor in the next few minutes.”

           “Thank you,” Chris said. The call cut off, this time actually leaving you with Chris and only Chris. His eyes turned back to you. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

           “Then why aren’t you doing it? We have to make up for lost time, remember?” He smiled, taking the edges of the jacket that he’d wrapped around your shoulders, and pulled you into a kiss. Your characters had kissed in the movie, once, but this was different. He actually meant this. His lips were rough but soft at the same time, and you realized you would have to stop before his beard brushed against your skin any more.

           “Makeup,” you reminded him as he pulled away.

           “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You took his hands in yours as you felt the elevator start moving again. “So what do you say you be my actual date? Dinner after the movie? And we can give this thing a try?”

           “Of course.” His lips pressed against your forehead as the elevator moved so slowly that you could barely feel it. By the time the doors opened, he let you out of the elevator first, hand on your back like he always did. This time, it was slightly more confident as he led you out to the limo.

A/N: I hereby volunteer myself to get stuck in an elevator with Chris Evans. I hope you guys like this as much as I do!

[jake-guentzel-59]

Shoot your Shot Part 2 - Auston Matthews

I didn’t think i would get this part up today because I’m busy with packing and moving for college but I had some spare time. Sorry again for the lack of Auston in this one. I do believe that he is in this one more but I’m working on part 3 now and I can say he’s in most of that one. Also I’m pretty sure it’s going to have more than 5 parts. I don’t know how many yet though. Words: 1773 Warnings: Cursing, I think that’s it

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The first two periods were going great, for Toronto fans. Yes, I was wearing a Toronto jersey but you always have to go for your favourite team and right now mine was losing 2-1. Auston scored a goal and pointed in the direction of where me and Kenzie were sitting. She's convinced that he was pointing at me but I know he was just celebrating the goal. The teams were both out shooting around before the third period started. Kenzie had made me go and get her food because she had to stay and see if Auston looked for me. I think she is a bit naive to think he's actually looking at me. There's 100's of people here and about 40 around me for him to be looking at. He was probably looking at a friend or family member in the audience. I was making me way back with Kenzies' food, almost at our seats when all of sudden I feel the worst pain I have ever felt in my eye. I ended up dropping all of the food while grabbing my eye. Kenzie came running up to me asking if I was okay.   "I don’t know" I told her taking my hand off my eye seeing blood. Kenzie gagged at the site of my blood. She can't handle blood very well. "Oh my god! We have to get you to a hospital now, like right now!" She exclaimed, dragging me out of the arena and to her jeep "Put this on your eye and keep the pressure on it" She told me handing me a towel that one of the Leafs players gave her during the second period. "Are you sure? I don't want to ruin it on you." I asked her "You know, you're the only person I know that would rather bleed to death then ruin a god damn towel. Yes, I'm sure Logan! Now put it on your eye, I don’t want you losing an eye or anything."

We made it to the hospital in record time. I got in to see a doctor right away because it's an eye injury. The doctor came in to tell me about my eye and to fix it. "Now your eye is fine, no permanent damage to the eye itself. As for the outer portion of your eye, you're going to need stitches and you're going to have one hell of a black eye in the morning. What did you say happened to it again?" The doctor asked starting to stitch around my eye. "I actually don't kno-" Kenzie cut me off. "Her future husband was trying to hit a puck at the glass again but this time he hit it to hard and it went over the glass and hit her in the eye instead." Kenzie told the doctor. "Okay well he's not my future husband, I never even talked to him before." I explained. "Well if some hockey player shot a puck at the glass at my girl I would think he had a thing for her. But if he tried to do it again and hit her in the eye like this, I would defiantly say he wanted her attention" The doctor said laughing.   "See Logan! he gets its." She told me, trying to high five the doctor in the process. "Can't high five you right now. A little busy." He told her nodding towards my face. "Anyways, Kenzie did you call my dad?" I asked. "I didn't have to, he already knew. He's on the way, should be here soon." "How did he – Ouch-  know?" I said glaring at the doctor for hurting me "I think he was watching the game and saw it. Also, it's all over the internet already. You're basically a meme now." She said laughing "Great, that’s exactly what I wanted..."

The doctor finished with my stitches and I went to go look in a mirror. My eye was already getting a nasty bruise. It’s going to be some much worse in the morning. I can't lie though, all of the stitches and the black eye made me look like a bad ass if I'm going to be honest. "So how many stitches do I have?" I asked the doctor "17 in total, 8 on the one on the side and 9 on the one under your eye." He explained "You know what Log, you kind of look like a bad ass with your eye like that" "I was just thinking that." I told her laughing. "Alright well were done here, you'll have to come back in about a week/week and a half to get them out. I see you wear make-up so try and go make-up free until you get the stitches out. Or at least try from getting the make-up near your stitches." "Great more time for you to do my make-up!" Kenzie said a little to excitedly. I just rolled my eyes at her like usual. "Thanks for making me look like a bad ass doc!" I say as I'm leaving the room "Don't thank me, thank your future husband for hitting with that puck" He says laughing.

Kenzie was still laughing at the doctors comment while we waited for my dad. I called him to ask him where he was because I thought he would have been here a lot sooner. He ended up getting stuck in all of the traffic from the game. I pulled out my phone to text my friends we were supposed to meet to tell them that I wouldn't be there tonight and that we could it another night. They fully understood why I wouldn’t be there. Seeing as I never got to see how the game ended I decided to check twitter to see how they did. That was probably the biggest mistake ever. Somehow people found out who I was and were tweeting at me asking if I was okay, making fun of me, and sending me a bunch of memes of the puck hitting me. "While isn't this great..." I tell Kenzie as show her my twitter. She thought it was hilarious and went on her phone and retweeted a bunch of the memes. "Hey will you take a picture of my eye? I want to put it on Instagram."

It took her about 10 minutes to get the right picture. Apparently, the hospital had the worst lighting in the world and that’s why it took so long to get the picture. I say it was just her shitty picture taking abilities. My dad arrived right after she got a picture. Of course, he was freaking out and even went to go talk to my doctor. I told him everything the doctor told me but he insisted to go ask him and get told the exact same thing I told him. As soon as we made it home, and my dad stopped freaking out, I hopped in the shower and got ready for bed. I knew my eye was going to be sore tomorrow so I laid out some Advil and a bottle of water for the morning. I got under the covers and started scroll through some social media. Looking through the pictures Kenzie took I finally found one I wanted to post. Coming up with a caption is always the hardest part so I decided to keep it simple, 'Thanks for turning me into a meme and a bad ass all at the same time @auston_matthews'. After locking my phone and putting it on the charger, I went to sleep.

I woke up with the world's biggest headache. I took the Advil and laid back down until it went away or until it was more bearable. I checked my phone to see that it had blown up with notifications overnight. Most of them were from Instagram. Apparently having Auston Matthews, Mitch Marner and William Nylander follow you, and like and comment on your picture on Instagram does that.   '@auston_matthews: Sorry about the eye but it does make you look like a bad ass' '@marner_93: Not the way I would have picked to get a girl's attention Aus but Logan you really do look like a bad ass. Suits you.' '@williamnylander: Best looking bad ass I ever seen. Also, the memes about you are my favourite.'

I took a screenshot and sent it to Kenzie. She won't see it till later because that girl sleeps until like 2 in the afternoon every day. Seeing as it was only 830, I decided to go for a run. I got changed into my workout clothes, grabbed my headphones and headed out. There were a few people looking at me when I ran. It was either because of my eye or because they saw me all over the internet. Everyone looking at me got a bit uncomfortable so I decided to end my run early. I stopped by the café where Kenzie works first and got some breakfast. They have the best coffee and bagels in Toronto, I swear. It was about 930 by the time I started to head home. There was a car I never seen before in my driveway. My dad was already at work and Mads was at preschool so I didn’t know who it belonged to. The windows were a very dark tint so I couldn’t see who was driving so I knocked on the window and they started to open the door. I backed up to give them enough room to get out. It was Auston fucking Matthews. At my house. In my driveway. Standing in front of me. "Okay Logan say hi or hey or hello or anything. Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Of course, that’s exactly what you're going to do" I thought to myself just staring at him. Auston was the first to talk. "Hey, sorry about the eye and I hope it isn't weird that I showed up at your house" He said awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head "Not it's okay but how did you find out where I live?" I asked him "Well we have a friend of a friend in common and they told me when they saw it was you. I wanted to say sorry in person rather than over an Instagram comment. It felt more meaningful in person." "I understand, but thanks again, it isn't that big of a deal. I know you didn’t try to give me a black eye on purpose." I say laughing. "Well I still feel absolutely terrible for what I did. Is there anyways I can make it up to you?" He asked me "Actually, there is! Are you and a couple of the guys on the team busy today?"