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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years ago

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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

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peeterparkr · 5 years ago

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delayed ➵ tom holland.

pairing: tom holland x reader

word count: 6.7k

warnings: christmas, fluff, elton john, george michael

summary: the four times you saw him at an airport, the three times your flight was delayed, the two times you shared coffee and the one time you gave him your heart.

Once bitten and twice shy I keep my distance But you still catch my eye Tell me, baby Do you recognize me? Well, it's been a year It doesn't surprise me

You were coming home for Christmas. It would be fair to point it out now, you didn't want to go home for Christmas. Home wasn't… Home anymore. Because you would have to fake a smile, and pretend that you wanted to be there, and you didn't. You didn't want to go because it meant dealing with people who you did not want to deal with. Family. Exes Ex friends. Questions you didn't want to answer about your job, about your new position and how, although it was going well, it wasn't enough, questions from your aunts, gossiping fans, who loved to know what had happened concerning ex-boyfriends who had been horrible enough to break your heart. And questions about last Christmas. And why you hadn’t showed up.

You would invent stories of how you were doing well and tell anecdotes that had never happened simply to please your aunts. Maybe this year you wouldn’t have to.

Questions of why you never brought anyone at Christmas. You were about to take someone the previous year, fair to highlight. Well, that was a very promising statement. When in fact ... it didn't say much.

But, you know, around Christmas time, people say, problems are forgotten. You did believe that, at least for a day, your mother and father wouldn't fight and your brother and sister would be nice to you. Maybe you could be decent, too. You knew that in spite of everything, when Christmas Eve arrived, all problems would disappear and pretend to be a happy family. You remembered how it had gone last year. And the past one, too. A family dinner which had you all singing. It was good. But there was always something missing.

Maybe you needed a miracle.

If it were for you, you'd stay in New York, the city always had a ring to what you loved, always something happening. Honking cars, people asking for money, and a Santa Claus in every corner. You had spent the previous night at the Rockefeller centre, you had seen the tree and you were not sure if your imagination had played you a game or if you had actually seen him there too.

It's the job of the trade, seeing him everywhere. You had a vivid imagination. But, you also had the worst (best?) Luck in the world.

But, you wanted to stay in New York, so you wouldn't have to run into your ex-boyfriend who would now spend Christmas with your family, he was now married to your cousin. It's complicated, isn't it? Your stomach hurt just thinking about it.

In addition, New York had its charm. If it sounded crazy, it probably happened in New York. Even now that you were at the airport. You wanted to stay in New York. Last Christmas you had, and it had been perfect.

You were still thinking about the Rockefeller centre. The lights and everything you like, you wanted to have something fantastic. Unusual. You liked to visit it. You didn't want it to be the same Christmas as usual, maybe you needed someone, or maybe not.

You were in the airport waiting room and you didn't believe your eyes, he was there again. Like the previous and last year, and the one before that. That had you on the edge of your feet. But you liked to think that there was a sort of connection.

There was some hope you'd find him again this year. It had all been a coincidence but, you were sure you were going to find him. It was stupid, really, to think you were going to see him. But last time, just like you were right now, you were also in New York waiting for your flight to London.

And you had seen him again, with a cap and his earphones, scrolling through his phone. With a big coat and a hoodie. Your stomach jolted.

It seemed that this had become a tradition, you supposed. Seeing him there, also going back home. He looked at you and you didn't know if he had recognized you, you didn't blame him if he didn't. It was the fourth time you had met at that airport. Of course, the previous year had been something very different.

Circa Christmas, 2016

Since the first time you had seen him, you had fallen in love with him, like a fool. Brown hair, a little curled and skin as pale as the New York snow you loved, extremely handsome. The first time you had talked a little, about how you were afraid of an approaching storm.

However, this Christmas, you really needed to see your family. You had lost your job, and you were not at your best. It seemed that you had the worst luck in the world, because you felt that all your dreams had collapsed. You were a mess. You always had been.

Adding to your bad luck, your flight had been delayed by three hours, not a big deal. You had run into him at the nearest Starbucks. You could not believe how nervous you were. But of course, you had fallen in love with a stranger and his gaze had stuck in your mind.

"'Tis great, huh?" He had commented to you while you were in line. “We're here for another 3 hours.”

You had only smiled. “One can never have too many expensive airport coffees.”

He grinned. "Yeah. You're… Going to London, too? For Christmas? ”

“ Yeah, ”you had answered. “Well, not London, but yeah. I'm going to take a train after we arrive. ”

He grinned as he rubbed his hands together. “Can't wait to see my family.”

“That makes only one of us,” you had chuckled.

He watched you with curiosity. “You don't like your family?”

“I do…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I do, I just… I can wait.” You chuckled. “I just need a little more time to get prepared to see 'em. I just need a little calm before I come home. ”

“Calm? ”He asked. “And you're calmed in New York?”

“Even with all the city noise, trust me, New York is quieter than my family around Christmas,” you explained. “And I always want three minutes to drink a mean cup of tea and just… quiet, you know? but no, all the children are yelling, I need to help in the kitchen, and-- You know. Everyone is singing out of tune carols and… Well, that's kind of it. ”

“So this is perfect for you, ”he chuckled as he glanced at the Starbucks. “A… cup of coffee with Christmas carols.”

“Yeah, not the tea I'd love to have but sure,” you chuckled. “It counts, I guess.”

He smiled. “I'm Tom, by the way.”

“Y / N.”

And both of you had ordered your coffee and drifted apart. But since you were bored, your imagination had gone crazy. It became a habit of yours, imagining your life with strangers. And there was something about him that was very particular to notice. Maybe it was the way he licked his lips or how he would rub his hands together.

His smile, yes, that was very interesting. And maybe he had noticed your staring, while your mind wandered on how you could take him home for Christmas and maybe that year you would've.

“So, how was your coffee?” Tom asked as he made his way over.

You shook your head back into reality. “Hm?”

“Was it as good as your ideal cup of tea?” He asked with a grin.

“Uh, well, you know, the Toffee Nut is always a hug to the heart,” you laughed.

And he had tried to make some more conversation, small talk. Strangers. But it had continued and you had ended up talking about your favorite christmas songs and movies. Both of you couldn't stress enough your love for Home Alone and your love for Last Christmas.

"Everything involving George Michael is good," you had said.

"Can't disagree," Tom chuckled.

“I'd say it's my favorite, yes,” you grinned.

“Though, there's this one classic song,” he hinted with a smirk. "We can't forget it."

You raised your eyebrows. "Which one?"

He laughed. “C'mon! The ultimate christmas song? ”He pushed.

You shook your head.

"Don't ... don't make me sing it," he said, embarrassed.

You laughed “You… don't have to? Just tell me the name? ”You giggled.

“No, but I have to sing it.” He closed his eyes. “I can't believe I'm gonna sing to a stranger.” He laughed before singing the familiar notes of this one very popular Christmas song, if not the most popular one.

You threw your head back laughing. “All I want for Christmas! How could I forget? ”

“ It's a classic! ”He pushed.

“And I bet Mariah is jealous of your voice,” you teased.

And the conversation had revolved around that, about Christmas and how he was a fan of the Holiday and how you simply had your head elsewhere. You discussed Christmas and your jobs and how you both wished more to the Holiday. You said it was not the same, it seemed that the magic of Christmas,that you had back in your childhood had vanished, that it was now more important to outshine everyone else, to know who threw the biggest party or who was best dressed, and the many people who were in your house always trying to pretend their life was more perfect.

He said the same thing, but vice versa, that now, although he loved to spend Christmas alone with his parents and siblings, he felt he had become smaller. He wanted noise and wanted emotions.

It seemed ironic, you wanted a silence and he looked for the hustle and bustle.

“I guess it doesn't feel… real, you know?” You had said. “I mean, I guess they've hidden themselves in the whole glamor that Christmas is.”

“Really?”

“I mean, the days before Christmas that's where everyone is crazy you know? They show their real selves. ”

Tom nodded. “Oh yeah, and then Christmas Day arrives and they all turn happy?”

You nodded.

"That's not a bad thing," he said. “I mean. They turn nice, don't they? ”

“ Well, yeah, ”you chuckled. "I haven't seen it that way."

Tom smiled.

“But it's hard, don't you get all those questions?” You wondered. “You know, the whole, 'what are you doing with your life?' Kinda questions. ”

“ Ah, yes, and the whole 'where's the girlfriend?' 'When will you finally settle down, Thomas?' ”He laughed. “So annoying.”

“At least there's only a few people in your family, I have to go through that for hours, with all my family.”

He laughed. “Well, that sounds like fun.”

“It is, just not for me,” you laughed.

He grinned, "maybe get a fake boyfriend next year."

"No because then — then they're going to ask about marriage," you explained.

"Get a fake husband," He suggested.

"No—"

"Because then they'd ask about children,” he finished your sentence “Get a fake child—"

"Fake child?" You laughed.

“No, wait...then they'd ask for the second fake child.”

Then you both started to talk about the silly routines both your families went through the Christmas Day.

“And god, no, my mother, she likes to-- They,” you smiled. “They always organize this talent show, that comes before charades,” you giggled.

“Charades is a fun game!”

“Oh, don't get me started on charades,” you laughed. “But well, they do this talent show, and my mum, she believes… Well, she believes she's a good singer.”

“Does she sound worse than me trying to be like Mariah?”

“Your performance is Grammy worthy compared to her singing , ”You explained, making him throw his head back.

"Your family sounds fun," Tom grinned. “Meanwhile we only have dinner and talk.”

“That's decent,” you sighed. “Because all the magic of Christmas ends for me the moment someone tries to outshine the other. Everyone wants to shine, you know? And I think that not everybody has to shine every time. ”

“ And do you?

"What?"

"Shine every time?"

You laughed. “I haven't shined in a while.”

“Why not?” He nudged you.

“Life sucks,” you shrugged.

He stayed quiet but then an idea popped to his mind. "Let me tell you a secret," he grinned. “Be good to yourself cause nobody else has the power to make you happy.”

You chuckled closing your eyes. “Isn't that a song by George Michael?”

Tom smiled, embarrassed. “I was hoping you wouldn't catch it.”

“I know all the songs by George Michael,” you stated. "And Elton John, now that we're into it."

Tom started humming. You grinned, knowingly as he hummed to the Bennie and the Jets intro. You hummed along.

You looked at each other, “hey kids, shake it loose together!”

He laughed as both of you whispered the song, in a high pitched way, between laughs and giggles.

"B-b-b-Bennie and the Jets," he sang.

“I love that part you know? B-b-b-b-b-b- “

“ I love the high note on magazine! ”He said as he tried and failed to reach the note, making you throw your head back laughing.

“Bennieee And the Jeeeeeets,” you san on an even higher pitch.It was his turn to laugh.

"Bennie!" Tom yelled again.

“Bennie!”

People were staring at you, and you both giggled to yourselves.

"I never thought a delayed flight would be this fun," he grinned.

That got you thinking.

They were called to board, and everyone left by their side. By the end of the flight, you had embraced and wished the other a merry Christmas

And maybe you were being dumb, but having been accompanied at the airport had helped a lot to see that Christmas on a different way. You had given each other your phones and sent a message from time to time.

Around Christmas, 2017.

You had arrived in advance at the airport. Little desire for anything. Your heart had been broken and you really didn’t want to arrive that Christmas to answer questions about why a chair would be empty. You were hoping to see him a third time at the airport. But, it was impossible.

Besides, it would be stupid to call him and ask him, or send him a message, and what would you even say? What? That you expected to see him again? That you were that stranger with whom he had shared a cup of coffee and talked about Christmas carols? It was stupid. You would not call him.

But big was your surprise, a very pleasant one when you had seen him arrive. He looked good, nice hairstyle. His coat was expensive, you supposed. He sure smelled good, you thought. But you had seen him arrive, with a girl’s hand around his elbow. There your pleasant surprise was over. She was beautiful. Much prettier than you.

Probably because her makeup was not run like yours, and she hadn't been crying for days. Her boots were new and not scratched like yours. While you suffered the flu, she looked splendid. Her curly hair was perfect, while yours was tangled.

She was someone perfect for him. Sure that's probably why he was taking her home for Christmas. He gave you a smile.

Well, your heart was broken a second time, you didn't know why. It didn't have to happen. However that stranger had been on your mind. And of course, you were the fool who had become obsessed with Tom.

You didn't even know his last name.

“Y/N! Nice to see you again,”he greeted you. And he had said his girlfriend's name, but you had kindly ignored it. “Are you ready to see your family this time?”

And you weren't, but you weren't going to tell him that in front of a stranger. As if he wasn't a stranger himself.

“Oh, Tom, right?” You faked ignorance as if his name hadn't been stuck on your mind all year long. “Hello, yes, yes, all ready. What about you? ”

“This is y/n, ”he introduced you to his girlfriend. “We met last year, in this airport, we were stuck. And yeah,”he turned back you.

And you had really hoped you weren't stranded on an airport with them. Not with miss perfection.

Besides what were your hoping for, actually? To see him again and invite him over for Christmas? It was a very stupid wish.

But you had imagined it, how it would go. Of course, had he not come with a girlfriend, it would've been very disastrous still. Your smudged mask was not exactly inviting. But it did make sense, in a way you had connected with him.

Besides, this was the third time seeing him. It had to mean something. Fate. Destiny. Call it what you want, but him and you were meant to find each other.

But he was hugging his girlfriend and you had to look away. Maybe it bothered you more because you had just gone through a breakup.

They announced that your flight was, yet again, delayed. Only for two hours this time.

His girlfriend had fallen asleep against his arm so quickly. You guessed he was a good pillow.

"Hey," he called for you. "Are you alright?"

You had looked up. “Yeah, yeah, perfect.”

“Last Christmas you seemed more cheerful,” Tom pointed out.

"I'm just going through this terrible cold," you lied. “Didn't let me sleep last night,” which was half true.

"How were the charades?"He teased. "Last Christmas?"

You chuckled. "As terrible as they could go," you smiled. “The talent show was good, however.”

“I'm glad, did you participate?” Tom asked.

“I was inspired by you, actually, I sang all I want for Christmas,” you told him, causing him to laugh softly. "How was your dinner?"

"Quiet," he shrugged. “Hope this year it isn't.” He watched you. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Let's say it's not my year to shine yet again,” you shrugged.

"Let me tell you a secret," he whispered. “Put it in your heart and keep it.”

You closed your eyes with a smile, remembering last year he had quoted the exact same song.

“Something that I want you to know, do something for me, listen to my simple story,” he continued, a little higher this time, now singing it. "And maybe we'll have something to show, you tell me you're cold on the inside," he giggled. “How can the outside world,” he watched you, expecting you to sing with him but you just simply dedicated him a snicker. “Be a place that your heart can embrace, be good to yourself…” And he stayed quiet, waiting.

“'Cause nobody else, has the power to make you happy,” you finally ended the song.

Tom just smiled, a genuine smile. And then you had imagined how it would've been different, with you laying on top of him instead, and you bringing him home for Christmas. It would be good.

But it only remained on your dreams. And for a strange reason, you felt like you were falling in love with him only by picturing it in your head. The good old way.

But his arm was around his girlfriend, and he didn't hug you a merry Christmas this time. You had texted him a Merry Christmas, he never texted you back.

And you had been the whole next year looking out for him in children and old men, trying to see if life was kind enough to you so you could meet him again. There were a few times that you thought you had seen him, but in the big crowds of New York, it probably wasn't, so you ignored it.

Around Christmas, 2018

You were looking around at the airport, you had brought your own blanket and you were reading a book, but your head was going back to the Rockefeller centre.

You didn't know why exactly you knew he was coming. But you had looked up at him when he had arrived. You didn't want to relive the fact he had broken your heart by not answering your text. It had hurt.

He didn't have a girlfriend by his arm this time. And you didn't know if it would be decent to talk to him. Considering, of course, that you were probably still in love with him. You didn't think he recognized you. It's been a year, it wouldn't surprise you.

But he had, and he had sat right beside you. "Hello, y/n."

"Hey," you looked up.

“It's funny, don't you think?” Tom chuckled. “How we keep bumping into each other.”

You smiled. "Yeah," you laughed. “Funny.”

“How are you? It's been yet another year, ”he laughed. “Are we making this a thing? Seeing each other at the airport?”

“ I'm good, ”you smiled. “And, well seems like we should.”

“It's the third time,” he chuckled.

“Third, already?” You asked.

"Yeah," Tom grinned. “Or maybe more, I dunno, I mean, we've talked only those two times but I remember seeing you before.”

You smiled. “Ah, maybe, maybe!” You pretended to not know about it. “Well, someone out there really wanted us to meet.”

He chuckled. "Seems like it," he grinned.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” You were the one to ask this time.

Tom shrugged. "Not sure," He admitted. “Feel like I need more time to myself this time, I don't want to go home this time.”

You sighed. “I get that.”

“I… I've got to ask,” Tom cleared his throat. “I think I saw you yesterday, ” he pointed out, with a smile. “I didn't… I didn't say hello or anything because well,” he cleared his throat. “Thought you wouldn't recognize me out of an airport.”

You smiled. “Where did you see me?”

“Rockefeller tree,” he said. “I think it was you, and if it wasn't then… Gosh, it wouldn't be the first time I thought I saw you and it wasn't you.”

Your heart stopped as you heard him say those words. So maybe he had been thinking about you, too. But that didn't stop the fact that he had never texted you back Last Christmas and broken your heart.

“I was there! It probably was me, ”you smiled.

Tom blushed and chuckled. "Should've said hello," he grinned. “But to be fair, you were also kind of having a moment.”

And you had been, you had just stared at the tree by yourself, asking for a Christmas miracle. You weren't sure why, but you needed to get out of the routine. Something fantastic.

"I ..." You closed your eyes, repressing a laugh, "This might sound stupid, but I wished for a miracle."

"There's a fair share of those around Christmas," he grinned.

You smiled. "Yeah, but with my luck?" You laughed. “I just wish I could stay in New York.”

Tom chuckled, knowingly. "Yeah, yeah," he laughed. “It's weird, isn't it? We both have the power to decide and stay here, yet we're both here, going back home. ”

He was right.

There was a snowstorm approaching, but according to the weather channel, it wouldn't hit until the next day. You were safe

But if you looked out the window, you saw how you were definitely not safe from it, it was snowing, not as bad. But it did give a nice white shot. Making you cold only from looking at it.

“I feel like all the weather channels are wrong,” he pointed out.

"Let's hope they're not, we would be stuck here yet again for another year." But you were secretly hoping you would. Strange things your heart wished. “Where's your girlfriend?” You asked, and it hadn't come out as poisonous as you had expected it would.

He laughed with pity and rubbed his face. “She dumped me the day after Christmas.”

You brought your hands to your face, in shock. “You're kidding.”

“I wish I was,” He faked a laughed. “Apparently she only wanted someone to pay her a trip to London, and guess she didn’t like it as much, so she...dumped me.”

"Oh god, that is awful," you couldn't believe it. “Oh but… The silver linings, right? Now you can sing Last Christmas. ”

I smiled. "Yeah, yeah, I guess," he shook his head. “Then I need to find someone special.”

You hummed the song. It was weird. Because soy were both like old friends, when in fact you were both strangers to the other. But it didn't feel like it, it felt like an old song that you had listened once in your childhood. It felt like he had been there your whole life.

“What about you? No fake boyfriend yet? ”Tom asked.

"Haha," you rolled your eyes. "No," you chuckled. “Well, actually, last Christmas I was going to bring one… a real one,” you said, “not a fake one.”

“And what happened?”

“Broke up with me the day we were going to go to London, that's why last year I looked like a mess. ”

“ Hey, hey, ”he grinned,“ not fair, you always look like a mess. ”

You nudged him. "Excuse me!" You laughed. “But hey, I think it's not as bad as what she did.”

“Yeah, I won!” Tom grinned.

"Except you didn't," you chuckled. “He's engaged to my cousin.”

“No!” His eyes widened.

“Yes, and she's bringing him for Christmas!” You laughed. "I don't even want to know how they met," you laughed. “But oh well.”

“Now I get why you don't wanna go home for Christmas,” he commented.

“Yeah, I have to deal with the whole ‘are you still single?’ question while watching my cousin kiss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, then don’t go home,” he laughed.

“It's not that I don't want to, I just… want an adventure, you know?” You laughed.

“And you think you'll get one? In an airport? ”He laughed.

You shrugged. “You never know.”

The snow was getting worse. An both of you just stared at the other. As if it had been orchestrated, the familiar voice that you had heard the past three years called.

“This is an announcement for passengers on flight 1224 to London. The flight has been delayed due to bad weather conditions. The flight crew has arrived at the gate, but the ground crew is still de-icing the wings of the aircraft. Due to the upcoming storm, we might stay here for a couple more hours. We apologize for the inconveniences-- ”

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

"I should've seen that coming," Tom chuckled. “It seems like we are getting a pattern here, maybe you bring me bad luck.”

“Me? That never happens to me! I travel all the time! And only when I see you shit like this happens! ”You complained.

He laughed “Let's go get coffee.”

And it was like two years before, the two of you drinking your coffee, telling stories about the year and complaining about the weather. But it was so simple, it became so simple. How they were yet stranded on an airport.

“J.F.K. airport is cursed,” Tom laughed.

“Can you imagine if we had to stay and live here?” You chuckled.

“Oh, yes, yes, like that movie with Tom Hanks,” he grinned. “Yes, and then we’d have to live out of crackers and ketchup,” he laughed.

You grinned. “Gosh, such a great movie!”

He smiled. “I actually watch that movie on the Holidays, funnily enough.”

“To remind yourself that your flight might be delayed?” You teased.

He laughed. “Probably, yeah.”

You looked out the window. “We’re not getting out of here, not tonight,” you laughed. “We might as well go home.”

He looked out. “You think? I’ve got some… hope. And I don’t want to go back to my apartment, just in case.”

You shrugged. “Right. But what can we do? I mean… We will be bored to death,” you sighed. “We... I’m sorry, I am using we, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“No, but let’s do something, together.” He grinned.

“Like what?” You chuckled.

He shrugged. “Dunno, there’s plenty of stuff to do here, you know?”

You laughed. “I doubt it.”

“No, no,” he smirked. “Let’s… C’mon.”

You chuckled and you followed him, you walked around through some shops and played in some of them. It was very silly. You made fun of all the airport clichés, like buying a Toblerone, and remembering the giant one in Friends. You continued to explore the shops, very silly. You started to mimic the voices at the airports, sillying around. You took a cart for luggage and he pushed you around the airport as both of you laughed.

You then sat on the floor and sat close to each other, your blanket covering both. And you kept walking, through the shops, through the food courts, and then through the other gates, watching how everyone else was waiting for their flights that probably would not take off until tomorrow.

You were staring at tourists with their ‘I heart NY’ hoodies and their plushed Statues of Liberty with very poor taste. And you were falling for him, with his jokes and his laugh. The way he bit his lip when he was thinking, and the way it made you want to know how those lips tasted.

“I love these,” he said as he hopped into one of the moving walkways. You followed after him. “These are fun.”

“The walkways?” You chuckled.

“Yes, don’t you love them?” He asked.

“Hmm, I guess I do,” you said before sitting down.

He chuckled sitting beside you. “You just made these way more fun.”

“Ugh, don’t you think it’s annoying?”

“What?”

“How neither of us want to go back home, but we are both going just to impress our families and prove them wrong?” You asked. “But I know they’ll be disappointed.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “No matter what I’ll do. They’ll be disappointed.”

You sighed. “And I don’t want to see the build-up to it, because they always have hope, but I think that they’re just waiting for me to…”

“To let them down,” he grinned. “Huh, yeah.”

“I think the whole idea of the holidays just… Scares me, you know? Because they want to see a version of me that… doesn’t exist anymore.”

He shrugged.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Of not being who they thought I was?” Tom bit his lip. “Maybe.”

You smiled staring into his eyes. But the moment was quickly erased as a family was going through the same walkway. You had to stand up as they ran past you. You chuckled.

He looked around to see everyone.

“What are their stories?” He wondered.

You followed his gaze. “Probably the same as ours.”

He grinned as he took out his earphones. “Hmm, want to listen to music?” He asked as he placed the eraphone on you. You chuckled as he started playing the song you thought he’d play. “Heal the Pain.’ George Michael.

You didn’t know how or why but as the song played you were getting closer and closer to the other. Maybe it was because you were cold. But it felt like magic.

You got to the end of the walkway and took the earphones off, the song was in the early beginning.

You blushed. “Well, we’ve run out of things to do at this airport.” You said, hopping to the walkway that would take you back.

“No, we haven’t,” he laughed. “Okay, okay, wait,” he said as he ran off, you watched him with confusion as he walked to the sideways walkway, and now you were both getting dragged to each other. You rolled your eyes, laughing.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

“Wait, do I know you?” He asked you as he walked backwards, trying to catch up with you. You laughed as you did the same, to stay in the same place he was.

“I don’t know, do you?” You grinned.

He laughed. “I think I do,” he continued. “Or maybe I don’t, I’d never forget a smile like that.”

You blushed, rolling your eyes. “You’re silly.”

“I am,” he laughed. “I’m just going along with it, you know?”

“What?”

“C’mon, don’t you feel it?” He pushed, laughing. “I feel like I was meant to find you.”

You grinned. “A christmas miracle.”

He laughed. “Yeah, maybe, maybe.”

“Well, but this is only an airport story,” you smiled as you stopped walking as it soon would drag you to the end of the walkway.

And both of you thought of the same thing, because both of you changed walkways, and now, played another game, it seemed. Like charades of sorts, just making faces and not making any sounds, except for your laughs. His laugh, such an adorable sound.

But then you stopped walking, and he ran, trying to catch up with you and he ran faster so he’d be there with open arms as soon as you’d get off the walkway. You chuckled as you jumped into his arms. And you wanted to pinch yourself because maybe this was another one of your stories, only coming from your mind.

And he hugged you tightly, and you made sure it wasn’t a dream. He laughed as he let you go.

“I just hope we get to meet each other again, and then next year we will remember it and tell it like, hey, remember last christmas? When we fell in love for a few minutes?” He said, as he continued to walk along.

You stopped, watching him leave. You felt your heart jolt but followed after. You chuckled. “Sounds like the perfect Christmas redemption arc.”

“It does, doesn’t it.”

And you wondered how he could continue walking after saying that. You went back to your gate and asked about your flight, it was delayed for even more hours. So you sat down, as hope was slowly going away.

He sat down beside you. “I feel like until I do this,” he said carefully. “Our flight will continue to be delayed.”

“Do what?” You grinned.

“I need to ask you out,” he declared.

You closed your eyes, snickering. “You’re joking, right?”

“Think about it,y/n, we’ve been stuck before on an airport, and we’ve had chances to talk to each other and… Last Christmas, one would’ve thought that because I brought someone it wouldn’t be delayed, yet it was, I feel like it’s some sort of destiny calling us.”

“So you want to ask me out relying on the fact that you should because of the circumstances?” You asked, incredulous.

“And relying on the fact that since I’ve first met you, I couldn’t seem to get you out of my mind.”

You blushed as a smile appeared on your face. “Fine then, but only because I really like you.”

And it was his turn to blush.

You didn’t have many options at the airport. So you went to a bar. And it didn’t seem like a first date, it seemed like a couple who’d been dating for years was travelling together for Christmas,. Because it just… made sense. You had chemistry, nobody could deny that. Besides, everyone at the airport was stuck like you. But everyone was bored.

Tom smirked. “Everyone looks so bored.”

“Well, we’re stuck in an airport,” you laughed. “It can’t be as fun.”

“I’d like to disagree…” He licked his lips and rubbed his hands. “Let’s show them some fun, kay?”

You blinked and watched as he asked the bartender something. As soon as he walked back, you heard the notes. Bennie and the Jets.

You closed your eyes. “Oh my god,” you remembered. And he took you by the hand.

And you started singing the song, so out of tune, and so not remembering the words. He sang out loud and yelled while you were both trying to hit the high notes. Maybe it was the Christmas miracle, or maybe it was the fact everyone was bored, or maybe the fact that around Christmas all the problems seem to be gone, but people started singing along with you.

And suddenly you were singing at a bar at an airport, with someone you’ve sung with before. And it felt nice, and fun. And it seemed planned again, but the next song fit perfectly. To get in a more Christmas spirit.

“Last Christmas…”

“I gave you my heart,” you sang to Tom.

“But the very next day, you gave it away.”

And it was all magical. Like in a movie, everyone singing and clapping to themselves, forgetting the sole fact that a snowstorm had dragged you all in there.

“Tell me baby, do you recognize me?” You sang. “Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me!”

“Merry Christmas!” Everyone sang, laughing.

Before you knew it, your lips were an inch from his, and he was blushing and you were smiling. He looked down at your lips and without hesitation, kissed you. And it had been just slightly cold, and he still tasted like beer, but it was okay, it was warm and it was just what you had been waiting for, these past 3 years, only it was better. Way better than you could have ever imagined.

And after making your way back to the airport, kissing on the walkways, because you were both so hungry for each other, you made your way back to the gate.

“I just… I just have one question,” you said looking up, as soon as you were sitting down, cuddled together. “Why didn’t you answer? Last year?”

He gulped. “The text?” He sighed. “I don’t… I don’t know, I guess. I knew that I liked you, and I just wanted to forget it, you know? It sounds silly but I feel like I was… too invested on a stranger, right?”

You laughed. “But we are strangers.”

“Last Christmas we were,” he chuckled.

You grinned. “I wanna bring you home for Christmas,” you joked.

“Well, why not?” He chuckled.

“Brining a stranger for Christmas,” you laughed.

“Are we really?” He grinned. “We could say that we met years ago, but never really dated, until now.”

You laughed. “They would ask me questions, though, they love asking those, how did we meet? When did we fall in love--?”

“Or we could ignore the questions,” he suggested. “And go straight into that talent show, I mean we really got something to show them.”

“B-b-b-bennie and the jets,” you sang, laughing.

“They’d love that,” he grinned as he hugged you closer.

And you both imagined it, how taking each other home for Christmas would be. And the different scenarios it involved. Sooner or later, you had fallen on his embrace. But either scenario would probably not come true, at least not this Christmas, because when you woke up, the flight had been cancelled.

Present

You were in the airport waiting room and you saw him. Like the previous and last year, and the one before that. That had you on the edge of your feet. But this time, you had expected it. And you had seen him again, with a cap and his earphones, scrolling through his phone. With a big coat and a hoodie. Your stomach jolted.

“You’re late,” you giggled.

And he smiled at you, just like he had the year before. And you remember how you gave him your heart. And it was just like the song. And for the first time, your flight wasn’t delayed. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

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verobatto · 5 years ago

Text

Destiel Chronicles

(Vol. XXIII)

It was a love story from the very beginning.

When you're more than family

(6x16/6x18/6x20)

Hello my friends! How are you??? We have this chronicle and the next one, and we'll be officially finishing season 6!!!

I want to give thanks to my friend @agusvedder she made the gifs for this meta, thank you girl! 💕

Ok, I'm gonna talk here about an interesting parallel I saw between Rufus/Bobby and Dean/Cas, I consider this a huge proof to settle Destiel as a romantic relationship. I'll take episode 16, 18 and first part from 20.

But let's start for once! Enjoy!

Episode 16 as a foreshadow for Leviathan and Castiel's possession

Episode 6x16 "And then there were none" we had two specific situations foreshadowing what will happen by the end of this season.

I want to talk first about the foreshadow of the arrive of Leviathan inside Castiel's vessel.

Pay attention to this piece of dialogue...

BOBBY: So, we're talking about, like, a monster that gets in you?

DEAN: It's like a Khan worm on steroids.

SAM: You mean like a parasite, something that took over your body.

DEAN: Worm crawls in you, worm crawls out.

RUFUS: Monster possession? That's novel.

SAMUEL: Or that thing's still in you, and we can't trust a word that you're saying.

This was foreshadowing Castiel's Leviathan possession, a monster that gets in you, is clear here the parallel, and then Dean saying "worm crawls in you, worm crawls out" is what will happen with Cas at the beginning of season 7.

Episode 16 as a foreshadow of Dean and Cas break up

When Sam faces Samuel, there's an interesting quote there, that can be seen as a foreshadow too...

SAMUEL: Just because you're Dr. Jekyll at the moment doesn't mean you can get all high and mighty. Don't forget, we spent a year together.

SAM: Yeah, we did. We're blood. And you still sold me out.

Sam is claiming here to his grandfather, his family, because he betrayed them. Cas is family too, and they have been together for a large period too. So the betrayal will hurt deeply. But mostly to Dean.

Now, let's jump to the interesting conflict between Rufus and Bobby. There was something in their past, something huge that hurted Rufus and he couldn't forgive Bobby.

Read the following dialogue...

BOBBY: Yeah, s-shut up a minute. I'm trying to say something. It was my fault – Omaha.

RUFUS: No. No, it wasn't.

BOBBY: No, I should – I should have listened to you.

RUFUS Well, hey, that's categorical, Bobby.

Think about this, Bobby here is CAS mirror, and Rufus is Dean. Bobby/Cas is regretting something he did in the past that hurted badly to his best friend. And that quote... Is what Cas would feel at the beginning of season 7 when he will try to get Dean's forgiveness.

Okey.. let's continue...

BOBBY: I – l-let me just get this out.

RUFUS: Bobby, we've had this conversation already, okay?

BOBBY: No, we haven't. I never said I'm sorry, Rufus. I – you lost her because of me, and I—

RUFUS: Bobby, I said we've had this conversation already. And you could blabber all day...And it wouldn't change a thing, Bobby.

I saw this and I was like... Of course, this is talking and yelling Destiel all over the place. This is a blantant foreshadow of Dean and Castiel fighting.

Castiel trying to convince Dean, and Dean too hurt to listen. Cas saying "I'm sorry" and Dean "This won't change nothing" , I know you remember this ... The next episode are so sad that my heart hurts.

Ok, but... The scandalous thing isn't this parallel... But Dean's own words...

Cas is more than family for Dean... That's why he won't forgive him

Ok... This was an enlightened discover here (sorry if someone else has seen this before, come and share your thoughts) but... When Dean listened what had happened between Rufus and Bobby, and when he knew Rufus has never forgiven Bobby.. this was what he said...

SAM: So, what happened?

BOBBY: It was Omaha. It was my fault. And he never let it go.

DEAN: Well, he should have.

BOBBY: You don't know what I did, Dean.

DEAN: Doesn't matter.

BOBBY: What do you mean, it doesn't—

DEAN: (...)We're gonna spend it wringing our hands? Something's gonna get us eventually, and when my guts get ripped out, just so you two know, we're good. Blanket apology for all the crap that anybody's done all the way around.

SAM: Some of us pulled a lot of crap, Dean.

DEAN: Well, clean slate.

SAM: Okay.

Two things with theses words Sayed by Dean...

1) Dean thinks family and friends deserves forgiveness, no matter what they did. Ergo... If he thinks that, why he couldn't forgive Castiel's betrayal? Isn't Castiel family? His best friend? Like a brother? Why then he didn't forgave him? Simply, because for Dean CAS IS MORE THAN A FRIEND, AND MORE THAN FAMILY. This is just logic, my friends and a huge proof of what the writers want us to see, a big subtext of how Destiel was written romantically. In his own words we will hear him say too in 7x17 (Reading is fundamental) that what Cas did, he doesn't know why, but he couldn't forgive him. And he will say too, that never had happened to him before. You need more proofs?? Dean is in love with Cas. But he still doesn't admit it. (He will in season 8).

2) He says when his time comes... He wants to know everything is ok with his friends and family, so everything has to be forgiven. Ok... That would explain why when he was about to die in that mission to kill Dick in season 7, he forgives Cas.

Ok, now, following the same idea, we had this sweet snack, brought by my dearest friend Agus, I was screaming like a crazy lady when she told me this... Pay attention... In Dean's words too...

Episode 6x18 "Frontierland" Dean and Sam travel in time to track the Colt.

DEAN: I know where we can find one. March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. We'll "Star Trek IV" this bitch.

Ok, Dean... Star Trek... Men on space... You'll be an astronaut or something like that...

Immediately after this... Dean prays to Cas...

DEAN We got a guy who can swing it. (Dean stands up, and prays) Castiel. The, uh, fate of the world is in the balance. So, come on down here. Come on, Cas, "I Dream of Jeannie" your ass down here pronto. Please.

(an angel appears in the vessel of a blonde woman)

DEAN: Jeannie?

Ok, not Cas, but... Wait a second... Why are you an astronaut and Cas is Jeannie? We all know what happened between them... Yeah... The fell in love with each other!!! *Screaming*

Then I died and Agus went for the dragon balls to resurrect me.

She will add something in the comments beacuse when she showed me that "thing" she found ... I died again. So. Agus, be responsible.

Now, just to give a closure to episode 6x16, another petit foreshadow...

Sam and Dean will lose his second dad

At the end of the episode, the boys are alone looking at Rufus's grave.

And then...

Here a sad prelude of Bobby's death in season 7.

Dean's blind Faith in Cas

In episode 6x18, we had a curious situation, Jealous!Dean strikes again, when he prays to Cas but the one answering is his lieutenant.

She is angry with the Winchesters brothers, because she thinks they call Cas just to use him for their capricious desires.

But in the middle of that discussion, Cas arrives.

The tone in Dean's voice and his facial expression is yelling jealous, that's not the point here now, but just wanted to mention it, because is our jam.

Fine, now... In this same episode we see Cas walking into the dark side, and we have this dialogue with his lieutenant...

RACHEL: Castiel, I've been hearing things. Things I don't want to believe. Just tell me if it's true.

CASTIEL: If what's true?

RACHEL: You know. Your dirty little secret.

CASTIEL: I have to defeat Raphael.

Cas is willing to anything to defeat Raphael.

RACHEL: Not this way, Castiel.

CASTIEL: Rachel.

RACHEL: We put our faith in you, and...look what you're turning into.

CASTIEL: I don't have a choice.

RACHEL: Then neither do I.

Rachel is disappointed with him, her leader is working with Crowley.

We see this scene, and immediately we are worry too about Cas behavior and future.

But the most hurtful and beautiful episode from the whole season was 6x20, The man who would be king, written by Edlund, this episode was an oasis for Castiel's fans. Here Cas talks directly with us, Edlund describes the character he created and explains why he's doing what he's doing.

I divided the episode in two parts, I will talk here about Dean's blind Faith, trust, in Cas... Is very heartbreaking watch him trying to believe in Case till the last second. Because CAS was more than family to him.

So, first of all... This scene...

If you notice Dean's face. He's worry about Cas. He's worry because his brother and Bobby suspect about him, and he feels between CAS and them. He tries saying that to him. Because he still trust him, and he is sure if something is wrong, Cas will count on him. And the longing stare, so Destiel here. Cas is struggling with telling or not the truth, and Dean is expecting some answer. This is sad and angsty my friends...

But Dean isn't the only one feeling himself between two poles, Castiel is too. When he arrives with Crowley, the King of Hell makes him notice he knows about it...

Crowley says this, knowing how it sounds. It sounds like a romantic thing. And he did it on purpose. So, Crowley is presenting Cas and Dean encounter inside the Impala as a romantic scenario.

Now... Let's go with Dean arriving to Bobby's house...

Ugh, that. He still believes in Cas, he is giving himself excuses to kept his faith on him, the same happened when CAS leave him alone on Purgatory, or when the angel didn't scape from there, he invented in his mind excuses, because he loves Cas so much, he never would expect betrayal from him.

And Cas being there, hidden, listening to his friends, as if he was a spy.

And this quote here...

This is sadness, because he's watching Dean trying so hard to be loyal to him, imagine the war Cas was having inside of him. He felt he was still the Winchesters's guardian, but at the same time, he had HIS MISSION, and nothing goes before CASTIEL'S MISSION.

If you're not crying so far... I have two more things Dean says because he loves and trusts in Castiel....

SAM: Yeah. So what now?

DEAN: We'd call Cas.

SAM: What?

DEAN: This is usually the point where we would call Cas for help.

BOBBY: We talked about this.

SAM: Yeah, Dean.

DEAN: I mean, when there was no one...And we were stuck - and I mean really stuck - he broke ranks. He has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freakin' times. This is Cas! Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least?

Yeah... Let's cry... Even with all the evidence, Dean believes in him. Cas is Sam and Bobby's friend, but for Dean, evidently, HE IS MORE THAN THAT.

So they prayed to him... But Cas was there... Listening hidden... And didn't come...

DEAN Castiel...Come on in.

CASTIEL But I didn't go to them...Because I knew they would have questions I couldn't answer...Because I was afraid.

Edlund shows us the whole time Castiel's inner war... His feelings... His suffering.

And Dean... Dean still believes in him... Because here you have another invented excuse he gave himself...

To Conclude:

6x16 was full of foreshadows for Destiel fight, the arrival of the Leviathan inside Cas and Bobby's death. It also showed us what Dean thinks about forgive family or friends. Ergo, and because he couldn't forgive Cas, Cas was more than that to him.

6x18 gave us a romantic parallel with the astronaut Dean and Cas/Jeannie.

It shows too Cas in the dark side.

6x20 was a beautiful episode written by Edlund, showing us the intimacy of Castiel's thoughts. The POV is exquisite, and explains perfectly why Cas was doing what he was doing. Edlund defends his character, and writes a romantic and angsty chapter.

Dean believes in Case against all the evidences, just because he loves him. And Cas is more than family to him.

I hope you like this, see you in the next Chronicle!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @bre95611 @thewolfatmydoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @xsghn @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

If you want to be tagged, just let me know.

Previous season 6 Chronicles:

Vol. XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI, XXII.

Buenos Aires, August 7th 2019 10:05 PM

#destiel chronicles #destiel meta #supernatural meta #vol xxiii #season 6 meta

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bonfire-at-the-crossroads · 5 years ago

Text

Rutger Hauer has passed, and is on his way through the stars, toward the shoulder of Orion and the Tannhauser Gate.

He gave himself to the world of film and created characters which will continue to inspire the people lucky enough to share in the dreams he left behind.

I wrote this a couple years ago - and maybe it’s time to look at it again.

Thank you Mr Hauer for leaving this place a little brighter for your having been here.

Good journey, peace at last.....

————————————————————————————————————-

January 8, 2016

It's Roy Batty's birthday.

Ridley Scott's 1982 movie - Blade Runner - cast Rutgers Hauer as the renegade Replicant in search of his maker.

The film was a brilliant adaptation of Philip K Dick's "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"

Roy and a small group of Nexus-6 Replicants, have stolen an off-world transport, killed the crew, and returned to earth - in an attempt to coerce their designer to extend their programmed four-year lifespan. January 8, 2016 was the day of Roy's inception, and also the day his genetic coding has scheduled him for death.

He is being hunted by Harrison Ford, as hired-gun Deckard - a Blade Runner - paid to track and kill escaped Replicants.

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

In 1982 - the idea of the year 2016 was a mind-numbing distance away.

"The Future" was a place where anything was possible, and our wildest dreams would come true.

It seems like yesterday.

And yet, when I started thinking about the world I inhabited in '82, and where I've washed up on the shores of 2016 - it's been quite an extended sea voyage.

I was married to somebody else.

We walked into town to the little movie theater on Central Avenue, and as we moved to our seats, were told by the usher ( yeah, that's right - there were still ushers ) -"You shouldn't even bother with this movie. It stinks. Four people at the last show actually asked for their money back."

We loved it.

Minds were blown - and we went back two more times, bringing friends.

That Christmas Eve - I had a small stroke. I was 26.

At the time, I was more worried about how the news would affect my husband - and did not fully appreciate my own predicament. He overheard the doctor on the phone making arrangements for what was then, the only echocardiogram machine in the New York area.

"Is that about you?" He asked. I nodded.

My husband passed out cold on the waiting room floor.

I survived. Had test after test after test, and slowly got my left side back under my own control.

Time passed.

We tried for the baby - and a series of horrors led to the loss of pregnancy, and culminated with a 3:00 AM visit to the emergency room.

The husband was so upset - he left me by the hospital entrance, and drove home.

When he inevitably decided that he needed "space" and wanted to "take a break" -(clearly, his office-affair had nothing to do with this decision ) - I used the time to take a good long look at the marriage.

When he came back three months later - I was not the girl he had walked out on.

The world had changed, and so had the locks.

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

I moved into the West Village with a girlfriend. It was awkward having a roommate after having a husband, home, and mortgage - but I made it work.

An unusual boyfriend followed, and several years of actors, artists, and cabaret performers filled my days and nights.

It was Manhattan in the '80's. There were nights out spent dancing at the clubs til dawn.

The Met was open late on Friday nights, and my group of fellow oddballs wandered the museum halls every week for over a year.

Art and illustration was my livelihood. I knew everyone in the Village ( at least by sight) and was completely comfortable in my element.

But my friends got sick.

And my friends started dying.

AIDS ravaged the world.

The Village was ground zero, and everyone was terrified. We didn't know where it was coming from, didn't know how to cope with the skeletal friend, the friend covered with sarcoma blotches - was it the end of the world?

In many ways - yes. It was.

The best, brightest, most talented people on earth were dying out - and all I could do was hold hands at the bedside, and attend memorial services.

There was a three month period when I went to a service EVERY SINGLE WEEK.

My dearest friend, Bruce - I never even knew when he was well. We were fellow illustrators, and spent hours a day with phone cocked between shoulder and ear - talking while we drew in our separate studios. He was in Chelsea, I was on the corner of Perry and West Fourth.

We brought children's books to life, and loved the work.

As AIDS ravaged his body, he needed to take long naps in the afternoons. His fever would spike uncontrollably - he called it "Shake and Bakes."

He fussed over the ugly sarcoma lesions which appeared on his arms and hands - he found a theatrical makeup which he swore would cover them up so that nobody would know.

Everybody pretended that it worked.

"Well, my sweet darling angel - I took a shower this morning, and guess what? I watched all my hair go down the drain."

Some medication he was taking, combined with what may have been a chemotherapy cocktail - took every hair on his head.

He entered the shower - with.

Exited - without.

He had been told this might be a possibility, and had already purchased a wig from a professional Broadway wig-maker.

It was awful looking, but we continued to pretend.

He slipped farther away, and was hospitalized on a closed floor reserved for AIDS patients.

I visited every single day.

I brought tiny gifts, saved up stories to make him laugh - and built my day around spending time with him.

His family wouldn't come and see him. Friends did their best, but simply couldn't be with him when push had finally come down to shove.

I remember shouting at his brother on the pay phone in the hospital hallway "I can't make this better. I'm not allowed to make decisions for his care, because I'm not a family member. He is dying, and you need to be here."

He wasn't.

I held Bru's hand, and wiped his forehead. I asked the nurse to turn up his oxygen because he was struggling and begging for air. "It's as high as it will go." she said - and even though it was time for all visitors to leave, she said I could stay.

The day before, he had spent time with a priest who had given him what I now believe was last rites. He seemed comforted, and we said what needed to be said.

"You know Bru....I will ALWAYS love you."

He smiled and said. "I know. And I will always love you too."

He took his last breath a little before midnight.

I closed his eyes.

Twenty seven years have passed since that night.

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

The unusual boyfriend fell victim to his own silliness. He convinced himself that another woman was sending him messages about being attracted to him - and he needed "some space" to explore the magic.

He did.

She didn't

And I was magically single again.

As 1990 dawned - the Internet had not been invented.

The cell phone - wasn't.

Video rental stores were visited daily, and made money hand-over-fist.

Blonde, Madonna, and all that wonderful 80's music that my kids now think is divine - were the sounds of the decade.

And I didn't quite trust CD's.....

Times Square was just beginning to shed the peep shows and adult movie houses.

It was gritty, and how I loved it.

July 4th of 1990 I found myself eating in the diner downstairs from my apartment on the corner of 14th St and Seventh Avenue.

It was empty.

I ate my bluefish dinner and went back upstairs to the drawing board.

One single red rocket cleared the rooftops and the stars rained down.

I was bored.

Decided to place a personal ad in The Village Voice. "Looking for an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee....." and some other minor nonsense.

Over 350 people responded in the three days I checked the answering machine.

"I've never answered a personal ad," said the voice on the phone."I live with a grey cat. And I'm reading DUNE. Maybe you could call me, and we'll get a cup of coffee?"

On our third date, he never went back home.

"You know what? It's getting kind of silly to keep paying for an apartment to keep my cat in...."

"So what are you saying?" I asked. "Are you asking to officIally move in here?"

" Nope. Let's get married. It'll be fun. I'm not exactly getting younger - either are you. Why not?"

"It'll either work - or it won't. What's the reason that we shouldn't at least TRY?"

He talked me into it.

Brian and I were married in the Cathedral of St John the Divine, three months after our first date. Twenty five years ago, last October.

Babies happened. Three in a row. "Irish triplets" as my obstetrician called them.

Quinn.

Morgan.

Maddie.

They were (and are ) the three finest people I have ever known - and are the center of my soul.

Brian and I survived critical fulcrum points where the smallest waver would have plunged all of us into hell.

We stared death in the face - death blinked, and looked away,

more than once.

We walked away from alcoholism.

Left cigarettes behind,

Did battle with depression,

and kept walking....

We've skated on the thinnest of financial ice for YEARS.

We've worked and worked and worked some more - and it was never going to be enough to keep the ship afloat.

The kids, as we've laughed over the years have "Never missed a meal."

Nothing was easy, but our youngest will be the third to graduate from college in the Spring. Yes, there are loans to be paid - and we'll do everything we can to help them gain traction in their lives.

About a year and a half ago we took a good hard look at where the road was leading us. Our ability to maintain the income necessary to support our lives in Westchester county, in a big house with a big mortgage - huge utility bills, and a dwindling job market - we came up with a plan.

The bank was unhappy with our syncopated mortgage payment schedule - and really wanted their house back. Things were sliding downhill, and we simply couldn't stop it.

"Let's take the money from my last free-lance job, and buy a house in Ireland."

Found one.

And did.

Sold the house in Westchester.

Packed up everything we could.

Got on the plane.

And here we are.

January 8th, 2016, and it's 1982 all over again.

The Replicant is out of time.

He sits high on the rooftops above the city, rain is pouring from the black skies - and Roy Batty,- in his last moment of life - knows what it is to be fully human.

"I've seen things, you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

We all go through the motions. We get out of bed every day, and do our best to keep our lives and our families moving forward.

We work.

And plan.

And strive for happiness.

I'm no Roy - but I too, have seen things that will pass away with me when I go.

I, too, have learned what it is to be fully, and completely - human.

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