#i think the correct answer is pray that he gets to play barrie in a fn revival

[meiloorunsmoothie]

the mental debate:

would i have preferred that jeremy played j.m. barrie on broadway (with the a.r.t. version of the production)

knowing that we likely would have lost winn?

[rambling-at-midnight]

Angel: Part 3 (final)

(Italics are flashbacks)

“That’s not the whole news, is it?” Sam asks, clutching the cool metal in his fist so tight it hurts. The leather cord now has a knot in it, so it must have broken at some point. If it had, why hadn’t you fixed it?

Or maybe you had broken it on purpose.

Dean shakes his head. “No. Apparently Naomi hadn’t finished messing with Y/N’s head before Y/N escaped.”

Sam grins. “That’s good, right?”

“I believe so,” Cas says, his eyes closed as he turns around in circles. “Y/N may not be as unreachable as I had originally thought.”

Sam and Dean exchange looks at the angel’s strange behavior. “Uh, Cas? What are you doing?”

Cas doesn’t open his eyes or stop spinning when he replies, “I am trying to locate Y/N, but she’s not sending out any messages. I’ll keep trying, though.”

“We’re going to find her,” Sam says softly, slipping your necklace into his pocket. He doesn’t really want to think about what it means that you took it off, or that it’s broken.

“Yeah, but until we do, I want you to stay here, all right?” Dean orders, pointing at his brother. “We don’t know for sure if Y/N’s gunning for you, and this bunker might be the only thing keeping you alive at this point.”

“Dean!”

“No arguments!”

“If that’s the case, then she won’t show up for either of you,” Sam argues, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “It makes sense for me to go out, let her sense me, and we can set a trap for her or something.”

“Out of the question.” Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, we know holy oil keeps her out, no matter how charged she is,” Sam points out. “I say we find a way to get her in a circle or put me in a circle so she can’t reach me. We can’t wait her out. It’s been a…” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s been a long time, Dean. I need to see her.”

“We’ll see,” Dean says cryptically. “Just give me a week, all right?”

Sam crosses his arms. A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“All right ?” Dean repeats, his eyes narrowing. “Sam?”

“Whatever,” his younger brother mutters, turning away.

“Sam, we’re gonna find Y/N, but we’re not using you as bait! No way!” Dean yells after him. “You hear me, Sam?” When Sam doesn’t respond, he whirls around to look at Cas. “He’s not planning anything stupid, is he, Cas?”

Cas stops spinning and opens his eyes. “Sorry?”

“Nevermind,” Dean growls and stomps off after his brother.

You appear in their motel room three weeks after the wendigo hunt, panting, with a cut on your cheekbone.

“Y/N?” Dean asks groggily. You’d woken him. “Sorry, Sam’s not here right now but he’ll be back soon—”

“Please don’t tell him I was here,” you whisper. Dean frowns, his eyes opening, and they widen completely when he sees the cut on your cheekbone.

“Y/N, how’d you get hurt?” He touches his own cheekbone.

“What?” You mirror his hand and touch the cut. When your fingers come away, they’re red. “Oh. There’s an angel squad gunning for me, but that’s not the issue.”

Dean laughs. “Y/N, that sounds pretty serious.”

“It’s not a big deal!” you insist.

“What is, then?”

Your eyes dart to Sam’s bed and you touch your lips. Dean understands. “You’re not gonna tell me you don’t like Sam, right?” He scowls. “‘Cause then I’ll call you a bitch and mean it.”

“Of course I don’t like him!” you almost wail and then clap your hand over your mouth. “I’m not supposed to be able to feel affection. I’m an angel. We’re all assholes, and more importantly, not capable of emotion. That’s our whole MO! We’re soldiers for a reason!”

Dean sits up fully on his bed and motions for you to sit on Sam’s. “I really wasn’t expecting to play therapist for an angel today, but all right.” He sighs deeply. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure angels can feel emotions, but they have to be away from heaven. Or something. Me and Cas…” He looks at you through his eyelashes and you frown. “Our bond. You know?”

Understanding floods through you and you mouth ‘oh’.

“I can’t believe you’ve spent so much time on earth and haven’t felt any sort of emotions,” Dean chuckles. “Yeah, every angel we’ve ever met that isn’t a huge asshole has been one that rebelled from heaven.”

Your hands grip the cheap motel sheets tightly. “Sam is very experienced with… emotions.”

The way you’d hesitated before saying ‘emotions’ makes Dean think you were going to say something else. “Jesus Christ, you’re not a virgin, are you?” Dean gasps.

You scowl at him. “This vessel has had sex before, yes.”

“But you haven’t,” he guesses. “How have you been on the earth for, like, a trillion years and not had sex? You haven’t even kissed anyone before?”

“I have kissed,” you say hotly.

“Yeah, but because you had to seduce some asshole or because you wanted to?” He chuckles when you stick your tongue out at him. “You’re so funny, you know? You kill people for fun and get all flustered anyone says anything about affection.”

“Yes, because it’s unnatural, ” you insist.

“Trust me, Y/N, affection is the last thing from unnatural.” Dean smiles slightly. “We see unnatural every day. Affection is the only normal we could ever get.”

You bite your lip. “Don’t tell him I was here, all right?” Without another word, you vanish, and Dean jumps when Sam opens the door.

“You’re up,” he says brightly. “So get this…”

“What are you doing?” Dean asks when he sees Sam kneel by the bed.

“Praying,” Sam answers, clasping his hands together. “I was thinking we could finally have that dinner Cas wanted a while ago. We’re good for tonight, yeah?”

Dean shuts his laptop before anything pops up about a strange murder. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Sam barely has time to close his eyes before Cas appears. “Yes?”

“Have you seen Y/N?” Sam asks eagerly. “Me and Dean are free tonight and we were thinking that we could have that dinner you wanted a while ago.”

“I’ll call her,” Cas replies. He blinks. “She’s coming. She’s just finishing something up in Baltimore. She says that if you see a police report tomorrow, don’t think it’s a monster if the victims are named Barry Smith, Maria Connors, and Leila Danish.”

“She’s been busy, then,” Dean says. “Sam, where were you thinking we would go?”

“There’s a diner that actually looks half good,” Sam replies. “The Silver Diner, maybe?” A stray paper falls off the motel’s desk and everyone turns. You cross your arms.

“Why’d you want me?”

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Sam rushes out. “It’d be nice to catch up, right?”

Dean’s pretty sure that only he notices the slight tension that eases out of your shoulders at Sam’s happy smile.

“Sure,” you reply, offering him a small smile of your own. “Let’s go, ants.”

“You know, Y/N actually is all right, now that she’s not threatening to kill us every time we see her,” Dean mutters to Cas, who just hums in agreement and takes his hand. “Sam, you remember the way to the diner?”

“We could just fly you,” you suggest, bouncing on your heels and looking suspiciously happy. Dean figures out why when he looks harder at you and Sam; you’re holding hands. It’s so cute and awkward it’s like middle school all over again.

“Sure.”

Once seated at the diner across from Sam, you both bury yourselves in your menu. “I’m confused,” you eventually say.

“Why?”

“This paper here says things like ‘smoky flavor’, but food doesn’t have a taste.” You look up at Sam, frowning. “It’s just molecules.”

“It has a taste for humans,” Cas says casually. “They need it to survive.”

You frown and look back at the menu. “They need it to taste good to survive?”

“No, the food.” Dean grins. “The taste is a bonus.”

You stiffen. “I’m going to the restroom.”

“O-okay,” Sam says, watching you hurry to the restroom. “Huh. She seems sorta out of it, you think?”

Dean keeps his eyes firmly on his menu when he grunts. He’s not sure if your weird behavior has anything to do with you being convinced that you’re not supposed to feel emotions, but he doesn’t want to bring it up just in case. That could hurt his brother’s feelings, as well as make you angry at Dean for breaking your trust.

You still haven’t come back by the time the boys order their meals. Sam turns around in his chair to watch the restroom. “You know, now I think about it, why would Y/N need to go to the bathroom? She’s an angel. Angels don’t need to go to the bathroom, right?”

“That is correct,” Cas says idly. “I don’t know what Y/N is doing, but she can handle herself.”

Sam frowns. As he watches, an older woman tries to get into the bathroom but can’t. She yanks on the door but it won’t open. A pit starts to open in his stomach. “Uh, guys?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have a good feeling about that.” Sam points to the locked bathroom door.

Dean cocks his gun under the table. Cas looks around fully for the first time. “Dean, our waiter is a demon,” he says urgently.

“What?”

“And you couldn’t tell us that earlier?” Sam whispers furiously.

“He wasn’t one earlier!” Cas protests.

“Y/N can handle demons, right?” Sam asks.

Cas nods. “As long as she wasn’t knocked unconscious as soon as she walked into the bathroom, any demons in there should be dead. Chances are that she’s keeping that bathroom locked, but I don’t know why.”

“And everyone around us, they’re all human?” Dean asks, looking around.

Cas scans the diner and nods. “It’s just the waiter.”

“And here I wanted a nice, normal night for once,” Sam sighs. “All right, let’s go.”

The demon leaves the waiter the second he sees them stand up. Dean fires into the air so the human customers will leave, and leave they do. Cas almost gets trampled in the horde of screaming humans.

“Y/N?” Sam yells, pounding on the locked bathroom door. “Y/N, you there?”

“Yes,” you call back, annoyance clear in your voice.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.”

Sam looks back at Dean, but he just shrugs. “Why haven’t you come out yet?”

“They trapped me in holy fire,” you reply. “Stand back. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I guess I will.”

Dean pulls Sam away from the door seconds before you blast it down. Sam has to admit that you look really hot in that moment, your eyes glowing blue as you lower your hand. You kneel and place your hand on the floor. Everything starts to rumble and the floor actually splits open so you can pass through the hole in the ring of fire.

“We coulda just poured some water on the fire,” Dean mutters. You wave your hand at the fire now that you’re out of it and it dies down.

“That was pretty sweet,” Sam says breathily, grinning at you.

“Hey, why’d you go into the bathroom in the first place?” Dean asks.

“I saw a demon,” you reply. “It saw me too, I suppose.”

Dean looks around at the abandoned diner, the passed out waiter, and the enormous crack in the floor. “Well, I guess dinner’s out. Wanna get smashed at a bar?”

As the four of you leave the diner, the sprinklers finally go off.

You and Cas sit side by side, arms crossed and identical amused grins on your faces as you watch Dean and Sam pound shots in unison. Kara had tried to keep up with them in the mirror but she’s passed out by now.

“Are you drunk?” Cas asks Dean as he squeezes his eyes shut at the alcohol.

“Buzzed,” Dean replies, grinning at the two angels.

“What about you?” you ask, smirking as Sam blinks.

“Sammy here does not drink as much as me,” Dean boasts. “He’s probably smashed.”

“I am not,” Sam contradicts, scowling. “I’ve still got a pretty high tolerance.” He hiccups.

Dean slings himself into the seat next to Cas and whispers something into his ear. Cas doesn’t even have to say anything before you wave at them and they sprint out of the bar like they’re chasing a monster.

“I bet they do it in the Impala,” Sam says, a little too loudly, by your ear. You startle.

“What?”

“I bet they don’t even make it out of the car,” he says again, more forcefully this time. “At least Cas can use his powers to clean up.”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Cas and Dean, you know.” Sam sticks his tongue in his cheek and raises his eyebrows at you. “You know?”

Slowly, you shake your head, your eyes fixed on his.

“They’re having sex,” he proclaims loudly, swaying slightly as he raises a bottle to his lips. “They have a ‘more profound bond’.”

“What about you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“If they took the car, how will you get back to the motel?”

Sam shrugs and takes another sip of the beer. You can’t help but watch his throat muscles convulse as he swallows. “Walk, probably. They pass out in the car, I pass out in the room alone, and in the morning we all pretend that Cas wasn’t deepthroating my brother.”

You blush and look away. “What does Castiel do when Dean is sleeping?”

Sam sits down next to you, slouching enough that his head is on the same level as yours. “Pro’ly watch him sleep. I’ve caught him watching Dean before.”

You nod and make eye contact with an older man with a handlebar mustache across the bar by mistake. He takes that as an invitation to come over.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, leaning against the bar.

Instantly you’re more comfortable. You know how to deal with this man, this scumbag that you would kill for even thinking the thoughts about you that he is. You’re not good about dealing with whatever you feel for Sam. “Get lost.”

Annoyance falls over his features immediately. “Hey, that’s not very polite. I just wanted—”

“I know perfectly well what you wanted,” you say coldly. “And I will not give it to you.” You don’t even notice Sam sitting up, sobering more now that someone’s invaded his time with you. He’s pretty sure you’d be angry if he interfered, so he just upends the bottle and gulps it down, revealing his vulnerable, glistening throat to the world, but you’re the only one that notices his weakness.

The man takes advantage of you turning to Sam and grabs your shoulder. Faster than humanly possible, you whirl, slam his arm onto the bar. He yells in pain when you press harder, bones grinding together but not quite cracking. “Don’t touch me,” you say quietly.

“Wanna go?” Sam mutters at your side. You nod and start to turn away. The man, overly confident because of his liquor and never having heard the word ‘no’ before, grabs the end of your ponytail and yanks you back.

Sam can’t control himself anymore. He lunges for the man, but his feet are stuck on the ground. You lock eyes with him, your head still pulled back, until he nods. Once you’ve got his agreement, you let Sam go and bring your elbow back into the man’s stomach. Twirling around, you grip his head in your hands and bring it down and into your knee. His nose breaks and blood spurts on his shirt and the ground. The man howls and tries to slap you, but you catch his hand and twist him around, dislocating his shoulder in the process, and push away from the bodyguard that tries to pull you off him.

“I’m leaving,” you snarl. “Let’s go, Sam.”

Sam reaches out and grasps your whole hand in his, not just an innocent linking of the pinkies, and you pull him out of the bar. You hadn’t liked it in there anyway.

You’ve barely taken two steps outside the bar before Sam stops walking. You let him pull you back into his arms, and before you know it his lips are on yours, not just a feather-light brush, but a sweet pressure that reassures you that, yes, you’re not a servant of heaven anymore, and that just might be a good thing because you really can love.

Which scares the hell out of you.

But you don’t want to break away, so you just hook your arms around Sam’s neck as his hands cup your face, trying to pull him as close as physically possible, and then closer.

Finally Sam breaks away from the kiss and hoarsely asks, “Motel room?”

You bite your lip. “You want to have the… sex, right?”

His voice is steadier when he replies, “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know how.”

He slides his hands down your form until they’re resting on your hips. It’s the first time anyone’s ever touched you like you’re something to be admired, something to be loved and adored, instead of something to be feared or something to take and then leave. “Seriously?” One of his fingers loops inside one of the belt loops you don’t use on your jeans as his mouth quirks up in a half-smile.

“I’ve been on the earth for twenty million years and I’ve never met anyone like you, Samuel Winchester,” you say. If he thinks about it hard enough, it answers his question and makes him feel even more special.

Blushing now, Sam offers, “I can show you?”

“It’s a human custom,” Sam explains, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched as he talks to you, trying to compensate for your smaller vessel.

You look back and forth between the tree and the knife in your hand. “Is that so?”

He just grins at you.

“I could just use my powers,” you say, trying to hand it back to him, but Sam evades the knife quickly.

“No! It’s… it’ll mean more if you do it by hand. Please, Y/N?” He gives you the puppy eyes and you immediately agree. You carve your name into the bark of the tree and then Sam carves the blocky letters SW next to them with an addition symbol.

“Why do humans do that?” You ask as the two of you walk back to the bunker.

Sam shrugs. “I guess ‘cuz it’s hard to take that off a tree, right? It’s pretty permanent, and humans like to think that love is forever.”

You frown. “What about when they die? Do they still love each other?”

“Normally,” Sam admits. “I guess, in heaven, it’s their best memories, right? So they might be in some of the memories. And if you’re soulmates you can experience it together.”

“You and Dean share a heaven,” you say quietly. “But I’m an angel. I can’t die with you.”

“You could visit us,” Sam suggests, his voice getting a little higher. He doesn’t want to think about an afterlife without you.

“I don’t think I’m welcome in heaven anymore,” you say solemnly. You can feel his grip on your hand become lax, and you squeeze it. “But I’ll fight my way in if I have to. No angels could keep us from each other.”

Sam kisses you.

Dean had told him not to come, and Sam had said he wouldn’t.

Sam traces the letters on the tree. Even after a year, they still look like they were carved onto the trunk just minutes before. He’s pretty sure your angel powers are what keeps the marks looking so fresh.

He looks up at the sky, grey from a thick layer of clouds, and breathes. His breath fogs up. It’s probably going to snow soon. “Come on, Y/N. You know I’m here.”

He hears the flutter of wings. Sam can’t even turn around before a force pushes him forcefully against the tree. “Hey, babe,” he groans out, turning his head so that his cheek presses against the rough bark. “Are you all right?”

You let him go and he sits down heavily. Sam slowly starts to turn around.

“Did you hear my prayer earlier?”

“Yes,” you say quietly, pointing your angel blade at him. “Why would you leave your safe bunker?”

“You’re not going to kill me,” he replies, finally getting a peek at your face. Your vessel’s skin is tinged, multiple blood vessels had burst in your eyes, and dirt is packed underneath your fingernails. You look like absolute shit.

“I—” You start and then wince, your hands flying up to your head as your eyes close.

“Babe?” Sam stands up, concerned, and you push him back against the tree so hard he almost passes out.

“Fight back, dammit!” you snarl, letting him go again. Sam just leans against the tree, panting heavily.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I can’t lose anyone else. I just can’t, Y/N.”

“I’m supposed to kill you,” you say slowly.

“Y/N,” Sam says quietly. “I know what you’re feeling. Your head hurts, you’re tired and confused. I get it. Come back with me, all right? We can make sure you don’t hurt anybody else.”

“I didn’t—” you drop your blade and Sam twitches. “You took Kara from me.” Your eyes start to glow and Sam frowns. “Give me Kara back!” you scream. A bush near you catches on fire.

“I didn’t take Kara,” Sam says gently. “Y/N, you’re confused. Come on. Take my hand.” He extends it to you and you swipe your hand through the air. His arm flies backwards into the tree with enough force to break skin. Sam hisses.

You stoop to grab your angel blade. You shift your feet and toss it from hand to hand. Sam’s eyes track the movements of the blade warily.

“You’re a threat to my mission,” you eventually say, tossing the knife to your nondominant hand and clenching it until your knuckles go white.

“I’m not stopping you,” Sam replies.

You wince and a drop of blood leaks out from the corner of your right eye. Forgetting himself for a moment, Sam strides forward. “Babe—”

That was a mistake. The second his hand touches your cheek, you drop your shoulder and crank a punch into the side of his face. Sam cries out in pain as he falls down from the force of your punch. A divine entity just punched him and all that it did was bust his lip open and make him fall down.

“Fight back!” You snarl, punctuating each word with a kick to Sam’s ribs. He groans as one of them cracks. He doesn’t fight back, though, so you haul him up by the front of his shirt and punch his face again. And again. And again. “Fight— back!”

Sam slaps weakly at the hand holding him up, his face a bloody pulp, and you let him go as another burst of pain shoots through your skull. “I didn’t want to do this, but I guess I have to,” he rasps and drops a lit lighter onto the ground. You scream again as a circle of holy fire lights up around you, trapping you. Panic lights up in your eyes when you realize that.

“I’ll tear the skin off your bones!” you threaten. “I’ll rip the ground apart to get to you!”

“That’s Naomi talking!” Sam yells back, the pain in his face and ribs making his eyes water. “Y/N, I know you’re in there! Come on, fight it! Cas could!”

With a rumble like an earthquake, the ground in front of you starts to peel apart. Your eyes glow. Once the circle’s broken, you clench your fist and the fire dies down.

“Y/N—” Sam pleads as you start forward. “Y/N, stop it!”

You raise your arm for the final, devastating blow, and Sam just closes his eyes, turns his face away, and holds out one weak, mortal, human arm in an attempt to stop you.

And it does.

The fading sunlight glints off the silver wing pendant clutched in Sam’s hand right into your eyes.

You fall to your knees. When you speak, your voice is a hoarse whisper. “Sam?”

“Yeah, baby,” he groans, still tensed against another attack. This might be a trick. “You back?”

You put a tentative hand on his leg and immediately all his injuries are healed.

When Sam realizes he’s able to move without pain, he turns around to face you. Another drop of blood is leaking out of your eye, and this time when he wipes it away you don’t try to kill him. You just stare at your hands in your lap, specked with Sam’s blood and still clutching your angel blade.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you,” Sam says, trying to break the tension, but you scramble away from him, sliding on the leaves. One of your hands touches a stray drop of holy oil that Sam had scattered in the circle and you hiss as it burns your skin. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, grabbing your hand gently. “Take it easy.”

“Don’t touch me!” you yelp, trying to throw him off you, but you can’t bring yourself to use your angel strength to do that for fear of hurting him, so he just gathers you to his chest and tucks your head under his chin.

“Shh, it’s all right,” Sam whispers, rocking back and forth slightly and tightening his grip on you when you try to get away. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not,” you whisper into his chest. “I told you I’d never hurt you.”

“That wasn’t you,” he insists gently. “That was all Naomi.”

“She said God had a new mission for me and I trusted her,” you say bitterly. “She killed Kara. I’m all alone.”

“You still have me,” Sam points out, kissing the top of your head.

“I shouldn’t.”

“None of that was your fault.”

“I killed all of those people in that motel.”

“We’ve all killed people. And it wasn’t even you.”

You shake your head but grip his shirt tightly in your hands. “How’d you know I would snap out of it?”

“I know you,” Sam says simply. “You said you’d never hurt me, so I know you wouldn’t.” He tries to tease you by saying, “Where would you be without me?”

You look up at him. “I’d be one of those winged dicks without feelings.” You lean up enough to kiss his throat and then settle more against his chest, having missed the feeling of his strong arms around you. You’re burning hot enough to warm Sam despite the cold weather, so the two of you stay like that for a long time.

It’s one of those peaceful mornings where Sam was tired enough to sleep in and there are no monsters to hunt. Though you can’t sleep, you can rest, so you stay curled up against Sam, one hand on his muscular chest and feet tangled together. Eventually he starts to move, waking up.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sam finally says, his voice gravelly, and you open your eyes with a smile.

“You were tired,” you tease.

“You wore me out,” he responds. You move your hand from his chest to his cheek and press your lips to his gently. “Hey, Y/N?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah?” you ask, leaning back.

“I love you,” he says for the first time.

Your grin is blinding and only rivaled by Sam’s when you respond affirmatively.

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

[i-am-not-anon]

Helping a stranger out: part 11

Summary: Roman is working at a bookstore and his customer needs help. But how much would he do for a stranger?

Author's note: All of the chapters seem to include both angst and fluff, and this one is no different. But most importantly: Thanks for taking the time to read my work and I appreciate every like, comment and reblog!

And don’t hesitate to message me if you want to be added to the taglist

Pairings: Anxceit (they broke up), eventual prinxiety

Other parts: Part 1 (-) Part 10 (-) Part 12

Warnings: Deceit by name Famian, cursing, abusive relationship mentioned, breakup, crying, panic attack, mild angst, manipulative s/o, kissing, possibly mentions of smut but no n/sfw will appear

“We need..”

Roman pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, sitting down to write what Virgil would say.

“We need pasta, tomatoes, some herbs, shredded cheese. Don't you even have shredded cheese?” Virgil asked in disbelief, looking through the freezer.

“Nope”, Roman answered and wrote it down.

“That's illegal”, Virgil huffed. “You need some in case you have a sudden craving for shredded cheese at 3.am.”

Roman giggled. “You're right. Let's buy two bags of cheese then.”

The two men came back from the trip to the grocery store, and Virgil prepared everything for cooking delicious pasta and tomato sauce. Roman watched, trying to learn everything.

“Okay. Roman.. what was your name again beginner chef”, Virgil asked, taking his role as the famous five-star-michelin-restaurant-chef.

“Roman Barry”, Roman answered with a serious and a bit nervous expression.

“Roman Barry. Come here, Roman, this fine saturday I'll show you how I make my world famous Pasta with Tomato Sauce.” he leaned over to whisper to the taller man's ear: “It's a secret recipe, don't tell it to anybody or else you'll soon find yourself in the freezer.”

“Understood”, Roman nodded.

“First, you take the tomatoes and cut them to small cubes”, Virgil teached and slided a cutting board with a knife and tomatoes in front of Roman. “And don't cut your fingers off.”

Roman began slicing the tomato. He was kinda clumsy and slow, but it was understandable. Virgil on the other hand was having none of it, still playing his role.

“Where have you gone to the chef school? This is ridiculous, let me show you how it's done”, he complained and took the knife out of the embarrassed man's hands.

Virgil cut neat and precise little cubes in a quick pace, dropping them on the pan and putting the other tomato on the cutting board. “Now, try again.”

Roman knew Virgil was just acting harsh, and he wanted to do his best, trying to cut like the man had showed but got scolded again.

“You got a thick skull, don't you?” Virgil sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stepped to stand behind the other man, trying to guide his hands.

“I can't fricking see from behind you”, he complained and Roman bursted into laughter.

Virgil stared at Roman for a second, before realizing how ridiculous the situation was and chuckled as well.

“I'm sorry, I got way too into it”, Virgil apologized, still chuckling a bit.

“Nah, it was cool”, Roman hummed. “Now can you actually show me how to do this?”

Virgil guided Roman through the recipe, now actually being patient with him. Roman learned a lot during the few hours, maybe not the whole recipe yet but at least how to do most of the steps.

“This is good despite me doing it”, Roman admitted after tasting the dish.

“It's good because you were doing it”, Virgil corrected.

“Oh, hush”, Roman smiled.

Virgil came to sit in the living room with his school books. He had been studying a bit on his own, but kept getting distracted by his phone or was not in a mental state that allowed him to concentrate on something that required brain activity. He reasoned that maybe company would help on that and also he could ask Roman if he didn't understand the questions in his book.

Roman was reading a novel, spread out on the sofa. Virgil tapped him on the shoulder. “I want to sit as well”, he announced and Roman sat up.

“What are you studying?” Roman asked, trying to peek at the cover of the book.

“Mathematics”, Virgil sighed. “I like it a lot but it sure is difficult.”

“I don't like math but mood”, Roman hummed but kept his book shut, watching Virgil struggle with a complicated problem.

“Y'know, you always could”, Roman begun and Virgil turned to listen to the advice. “..give it to Logan and say he ate it”, he offered, giggling as he saw Virgil's fed up expression.

“Oh shut up.”

“I'm serious!” Roman claimed. “That's what I would do anyway.”

“I'm not aspiring to be an actor”, Virgil mumbled, trying hard to concentrate despite Roman's babbling.

“What do you want to be, then?” Roman leaned even closer, intrigued.

“I dunno, stop bothering me”, Virgil poked the other man's side.

Roman sniffed, turning away to read his own book. It didn’t interest him for long, and the restless man turned to look at Virgil's school work again. He was now doing some english exercises, having given up with math.

“That's not right”, Roman commented, watching over Virgil's shoulder.

“Could you just fuck off”, Virgil scoffed. “I'm trying to actually be productive once, unlike you.”

“Okay, okay”, Roman laughed softly.

*Why is he so damn attractive, even when angry?*

“Okay, whatever”, Virgil slammed his books shut and dropped them on the ground. “I have one problem for you, smartass.”

“Shoot”, Roman grinned.

“What if I'm already head over heels with this one fella, four days after a breakup? Is it too soon?”

“Depends”, Roman shrugged and prayed he wouldn't blush now. It's not about you, it’s selfish to assume like that. “Do you trust him? Are you two already friends?”

“That's the thing, I don't know”, Virgil sighed. “I mean he seems trustworthy but I don't know if we're friends yet.”

“I think you simply should talk to him when you feel comfortable enough to do so”, Roman reasoned while trying to keep himself calm. Just let him be good for Virgil. That's all I ask for.

“Thanks. I'll do that”, Virgil sighed.

There was a knock on the door.

Virgil let out a whine despite his intentions, ducking to hide behind the backrest of the sofa.

Roman hugged the nervous man quickly. “It's okay. I'll get the door, you can stay here. I'll be right back.”

Roman opened the door to find Famian on the other side.

“Where's Virgil”, he asked, hiding something behind his back.

“He's not available right now, and doesn't want to see you later either”, Roman said, closing the door.

“Wait! He left this to my place, that's why I came here to give it back”, the man claimed, holding out a plastic bag. “Have a good day.”

“Never come here again”, Roman warned, taking the bag.

“I promise”, Famian sung, disappearing to the stairs.

Roman closed the door, double-checking it was locked and went back to the living room.

“Did he go?” Virgil asked, peeking behind the sofa.

“Yep, and I got him to swear that he won't come again.” Roman came to sat beside the poor man who was shaking lightly. “Come here, it's okay”, the taller man reassured and Virgil accepted the embrace, leaning his head on the other's shoulder.

“He will try again”, Virgil muttered as he played with Roman's hoodie string. “Maybe not by coming here, but some other way.” he shifted a bit closer, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “He got me to come back last time. And the time before that. He thinks it’ll happen the third time, but I won’t give in now that I got so far.”

“I'm so sorry”, Roman hugged the anxious man a little tighter. “You didn't deserve him.”

“I wish I knew that back then”, Virgil only replied.

.

Taglist: @the-unrealistic-dreamer @selectivereality @metaphoricalpluto2 @sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet

[cover32-yahoopartner-blog]

Titans fans panic after a loss

Titans fans panic after a loss

Wow did the emails come pouring in. I love you guys, but at the same time….can I call ya crazy? It’s just a preseason loss. Please relax.

Why wasn’t Mularkey pulling players for struggling?

Coach Mike Mularkey has to coach roughly 100 players. He did pull some, as I wrote yesterday. It seems he saw this as an opportunity to overcome. The Titans scored a touchdown in the fourth quarter, so he wasn’t wrong. He believed in them and they did come through in that regard. NFL teams are so deep that some players will “get the hook” while other players get cheered on to overcome their issues. Mularkey and his staff have to figure out which way to motivate which players. I can’t say Mularkey should motivate this guy this way but that guy that way.

I am “old school.” I do believe coaches should pull players that are struggling. It worked. Legendary coaches have done this and it works for them. In the old school manner, yes I would have pulled Marcus Mariota and Tajae Sharpe. On a third down play where it was maybe 3rd and 20 or somesuch. He could have put Tyler Ferguson in to throw to David Fluellen. As Mariota and Sharpe came to the sideline, they would have gotten an earful from the coach. On the next series, they would have returned with a better mindset.

I think where most people have a disconnect is simply in the age of the players. Many sports fans only played sports til the high school level. They were kids when they played. The Titans are adults. As with anything in life, you treat adults and children differently. Your high school coach making you do laps for fighting isn’t the same as Mularkey dealing with Quinton Spain for fighting. Spain is a grown man that understands responsibility. High school athletes usually need to learn some accountability and responsibility. It’s far less common for an NFL player to run “punishment laps” than it is to be fined. This is where I circle back to where I started here. The Titans staff has to decide exactly how to motivate and correct their players.

The Titans staff wasn’t good yesterday. They weren’t. Mularkey said as such during the presser. They did not find a way to correct the players and overcome quick enough. There’s plenty of blame for everyone. Oh well. The game is over and it will mean nothing once they have reviewed the game tape. Don’t hold onto the bitterness. The Titans won’t.

Didn’t Mularkey cheat the depth players by playing the starters into the fourth quarter?

Possibly. I understand what you’re thinking. Maybe that some of the backups thought they’d play a quarter or a half and they only got in for a handful of snaps.

Week four of preseason is for the backups. The starters either don’t play or play sparingly. If we assume Mularkey had this on his mind, then I think he made the right call. Yes, it’s ideal to get everyone ample time to show what they can do, but this wasn’t an ideal situation. He will see the backups next week.

Based on three preseason games….

Try to remember that the staff has been with these players since the spring. For discussion, let’s suppose they’ve practiced 60 times. The games have significant weight, but so do the 60 practices. Fans attended some practices and Titans reporters convey an awful lot, but otherwise we don’t know what happened at the practices. We have to tread lightly here in giving the preseason games too much weight.

When to “jump on” a player then

Basics. Sylvester Williams getting pushed around and rarely ever getting leverage. (Yes I called him Dan Williams once yesterday. I apologize for the oops) In a previous game, Steven Moore getting beat consistently and not moving his feet. In prior years, the Titans have had wide receivers running wrong routes and not catching the ball. Kevin Dodd still not really covering and/or establishing himself against the run game. The NFL is made up of the best of the best. We (Really the Titans) should be evaluating receivers for how many balls they catch, not that they actually catch a ball. That’s too elementary.

Which player do you think the Titans will cut that will drive you nuts?

Denzel Johnson. I could write here how he could start AND how he could be cut. He is so fast and aware as an outfielder. With Michael Griffin growing old on us, it has been a long time since the Titans had a special outfielder. Since the day Griffin lost a step, teams have been throwing deep on the Titans. I don’t believe the Titans have addressed this issue well. I see a whole lot of very good strong safeties that can cover and put their shoulder down to make a tackle. The Titans haven’t had a guy that can fly since young Griffin. Why would this be the year they change? I hope they do, but one could certainly argue that it is not a primary quality they are looking for in a safety.

Which player do you think the Titans will keep that will drive you nuts?

Eric Weems. I don’t see the value. I do see him hustling down the field and being one of the first players to the ball. I do, but there are others there too. If others are doing the same thing, I wouldn’t call it special. When he returns kicks, he runs straight. He has no moves and it just lacks a certain pizazz. Adoree Jackson is exciting and it’s a completely different feel while watching Jackson back there receiving kicks. Tre McBride runs straight on kick returns. We’ve seen that in prior games. He is a receiver that can contribute. Weems is not. McBride has done fine as a gunner too. Let’s suppose it’s not McBride. The Titans can’t find someone to catch a ball and run straight? None of their youthful players are hungry enough to hustle as a gunner on special teams? I simply find Weems to be quite replaceable.

I will throw out some sort of caveat here. Ever since the days of Steve Tasker in Buffalo, I regularly undervalue these types.

(“drive you nuts” was maybe a bit much here, but I answered the Q anyway.)

How come every writer loves Woodyard and you’re always criticizing him?

It has always been that way my entire twenty-two years of writing. It “sounds” real arrogant to say that I see “old men” that have lost a step while others don’t, but it’s the only way I can explain it. My favorite experience in this regard was being able to trade and pickup Zach Thomas three times before he retired. He was an outstanding middle linebacker in his prime, so “no one” could accept that he lost a step. I would trade him and wait for my opponent to drop him and then do it again. There was always someone that would think good ol’ Zach would come through for their fantasy football team. An inside linebacker must have speed to get to the very fast and shifty running back. The running back is the hardest guy on the field to tackle and gets the ball more than anyone else. If the linebacker hits him three yards past the line of scrimmage, that is not as good as if he hits him at the line of scrimmage. Every yard matters. The lost step is quite significant. A zillion years ago, the Buccaneers moved Hardy Nickerson closer to the line of scrimmage. He was lined up a step more forward than the other two linebackers. Problem solved! I don’t know why teams don’t do this with the older players. Maybe their vision isn’t so well there? Maybe it puts them in a poor position to cover? The Bucs added a year or two to Nickerson’s career by doing that.

Barry Sanders Jr was never picked up. Do you still wish the Titans did?

Yes! Sign him to the practice squad “out of the blue.” His moves are so similar to his father’s moves that I absolutely believe he is worth the Titans investing a year of development into. Plus, everywhere ya look, people are saying that he is a “good guy” just like his father was. I can’t imagine any downside here at all. By the way, thanks for remembering that from the spring.

Does Mekhale McKay have any chance of making the practice squad now?

Sure he does. He has been out a while now and that does hurt his chances, but he was there since the spring. He’s gigantic. I don’t think people know much about him. He is six-foot-five-inches tall with an enormous wingspan and good “ups.” Jonathan Krause probably has the edge on him now. We saw Matt Cassel looking for Krause and targeting him a few times.

If the Titans were to cut Sylvester Williams, what’s his contract like?

SpoTrac is a wonderfully useful site for contract info.

I’m going to start working for (sitename) tracking in-game stats. Do you have any advice for me?

Drink enough coffee to make you hyper. I don’t really mean that, but it’s not far off. You’re going to become so alert and type so fast that you will rub your hands and eyes between quarters. It is not a difficult job, but it sure isn’t a job for everyone. Be ready and attack the game for a few hours. Don’t go correct mistakes. There are a number of guys doing the same thing as you. If four guys score a run as a five-yard run, that you scored it as seven yards doesn’t matter. Their program goes with the four yards. Stay focused, keep watching, and typing as fast as possible. Good luck with your new job.

As far as the Texans

As far as the Texans and the people of Houston. I wish everyone safety and the best possible circumstances here. I will be praying for you and…my heart goes out to all of you and all you’re going through.

My topic here is the Titans and I really am not allowed to stray from that. I just wanted to wish everyone well.

What will happen with their season?

As I remember it, during Hurricane Katrina no one wanted football scores or updates. How petty to be concerned with a game! But the flooding was there for some days and people wanted (even needed) the fun of watching a football game. They needed their minds to not stress, but to think of a game for a few hours. I expect Houston fans to go through a similar experience. The Saints played at LSU and there are plenty of other stadiums in Texas. It won’t be difficult to find a venue; maybe logistics like traffic, but they will work all of that out. I think Texans fans are still in “football is petty” mode now. Give it some time. They’re going to need that release.

I’m going to ask a favor of all of you: Regardless of whether you are a Titans/former Oilers fan or a Cowboys fan, this week please try and grab a Texans fan and cheer with them for a change. Whatever they are going through, they could possibly use a buddy to watch the game with. Maybe you’re not a nurse or a policeman or a fireman that can offer aid. Maybe you don’t have a boat with which to help. Help them this way. Show those Texans fans a good time. We can tease each other when the Texans come up as opponents, but right now is quite different. This week, show them a good time, please. Thank you

[backtothestart02]

Between Bars and Pizza Pockets - Part 2

A/N: Guys, you will keel over with this cuteness. Seriously. I love the result, and I hope you will too! :)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez​ and @mosylu​ once again for helping me make this as perfect as it could possibly be.

Part 2

Cisco sat in his living room, staring at the Star Wars DVDs and nearly cold pizza pockets sitting before him on the coffee table.

This was what you wanted, he reminded himself, not for the first time.

“She’s way out of your league,” he said aloud, figuring there was no shame with the whole apartment empty other than himself. “Besides, you just like her as a friend.”

He heard laughter that strangely sounded like an evil version of himself coming from inside his head. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“Who are you kidding, Francisco?” His eyes flashed open. “Even Barry figured it out.”

He grumbled, as he leaned forward, staring at the objects in front of him again.

“Sounds like you want to go out with her,” Barry had remarked.

In the safety of his vacant home, Cisco could admit he was right.

He leaned back into the couch and set his feet on the table, only slightly aware of their placement lest they knock over his movies or his food. He glanced at the latter and sighed hopelessly.

“If you steal my pizza pockets one more time, Cisco Ramon, I will not be responsible for my actions!” Caitlin had threatened once.

He was aware it was a problem, that he always proceeded to devour any pizza pockets that were left in Caitlin’s freezer when he stopped by her apartment before class.

The fact was they were yummy, and Caitlin always had them. And okay, she more often than not snacked on them even when they weren’t in her apartment, and so he found he always had a taste for them whenever he saw her.

Or when he thought of her. Which was often.

It dawned on him that maybe that was the reason he was eating them now.

Except he wasn’t eating them. He was letting them get cold and not even watching one of the six movies he’d planned to get through by morning. Because he wanted her with him instead.

And he’d just set her up with his best friend.

He groaned again, and prayed to whatever being had the most power that Barry’s complete lack of game would be enough to turn Caitlin off.

Maybe Barry won’t be attracted to her, he thought wistfully. And maybe she won’t be attracted to him! Maybe the evening would be so horribly awkward and painful that they’d end the night early and forget the whole thing ever took place.

Was he the worst best friend or what?

He repositioned himself so he was laying across the couch, hands tucked behind his head. Briefly, he imagined himself in a therapy session.

Caitlin’s words flashed through his mind again, as did the determined, quasi-embarrassed look on her face when she spewed them.

“I’m not the only woman in the world to still be a virgin at twenty-one.”

It was nothing to be ashamed of. He’d only been with one other person himself. And he supposed it made sense. Caitlin had very high expectations. She wouldn’t have sex just for the sake of having it. Plus, as had been proven many times over, she very rarely let herself cut loose without regard for what might happen.

It only made sense that if – when – Caitlin Snow decided to have sex, she would be in a meaningful relationship, and she would trust that person implicitly.

She wouldn’t trust Barry after just a few drinks at a bar, right?

Sweat started to bead on his forehead. It multiplied when he envisioned his two best friends together. He shook his head to rid himself of the video playing over in his head, but it was only replaced by a vision of himself with Caitlin in that exact scenario.

“Ohhhkay, Cisco.” He stood to his feet and started to pace.

He hated when this happened. Going from angry to hurt to jealous to horny was not a good look for him. He could only thank his lucky stars that it happened when he was alone.

“Just watch your Star Wars movies, Cisco,” he told himself, still pacing. “Watch Empire Strikes Back – easily the best one. No, no, New Hope is a classic. Watch that one.” He picked up each of the DVD cases and started flipping through them so quickly that they almost flew across the room.

“The prequels should be last,” he decided. “Maybe when you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Since they suck.” He stopped walking and sighed, momentarily distracted by his love for the saga. “But they are important,” he said aloud. “Because they complete the story.”

A knock at the door, and he dropped the movies.

“Cisco?” came Caitlin’s voice, and he nearly fainted. “Cisco, are you in there?”

He glanced down at his crotch and found her voice had made him semi-erect again.

“I am in Hell.” He glared.

“Cisco?” She sounded unsure now.

He cleared his throat and just barely managed to come off as surprised.

“Caitlin?”

Relief colored her voice.

“Oh, thank god, you’re here. I need your help. Can I come in?”

She sounded panicked, which concerned him, and helped somewhat with his problem. He couldn’t abandon her even in his own peril.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

He went to the door, opened it, and found Caitlin in all her glory – dirty blonde hair curled and shining, her make-up done, and the glittery black dress he’d assumed she was going to wear (because she wore it every time they went out to a bar) donning her figure.

“Wow,” he managed, eyes wide, pulse racing.

“Is it too much?” she asked nervously, looking down and start to fidget.

“No, uh, not at all.” He got behind the door and opened it wider. Once she walked through, he quickly shut it and deposited himself back on the couch, firmly placing a massive pillow on his lap.

“What –” He cleared his throat and tried again. “What did you uh, want to talk about?”

Caitlin sighed and sat down next to him.

“Is this a good idea, Cisco?” She turned to face him, her eyes deep and pleading for the truth.

How to proceed, he wondered, fairly certain that a Date me, Caitlin!! was not the correct route to go.     

“The uh, the dress? Or, uh…?” He lost his voice, but apparently she didn’t notice.

“The whole thing!” She threw her arms up and then dropped them to her side. “I haven’t been on a date in five years,” she deadpanned. “I don’t know what I’m doing. And if your roommate doesn’t know either, the whole thing will be a disaster.”

This, he recognized, was the panic that should have been in his mind when this exact same scenario occurred to him.

“I’m sure it won’t be a disaster,” he hedged, inching closer to her on the couch even though he knew it was a bad idea. Even worse was him stretching his arm in the most obvious way so it settled behind her on the couch. “Barry’s a good guy. Even if the date sucks, he’ll make it good for you.”

Make it good for you?! Cisco was scandalized by his unthinking slip of the tongue.

Caitlin remained oblivious.

“I suppose.”

She sank back into the couch and swallowed hard.

“I guess I’m just nervous,” she said quietly, then turned her head to look at him. “I’ve never really been a fan of blind dates. I don’t like the idea of going out with someone I’ve never met before.”

“He’s not some stranger, Caitlin.” He swiped some of her curls from her shoulder. “He’s my best friend. Just like you are.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, then proceeded to fold her arms beneath her breasts, which considerably enhanced her cleavage. Cisco had to count to ten slowly in order to avoid applying more pressure to the pillow on his lap.

“Does he know who I am?” she demanded.

Cisco thought back to his earlier conversation with Barry.

“She’s probably the best friend I have besides you.”

“And yet I’ve never met her.”

“He knows…of you,” he said carefully.

She blinked. “Just like I know of him?”

“Well…” His voice squeaked.

“Cisco,” she warned, her eyes narrowing. “How much does this Barry know about me?”

“Nothing!” he said instantly. Her eyes widened. “I mean, he knows you and I are friends. He knows we’ve been friends for a while. But…I don’t really talk about you with him. He doesn’t even know your name.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Why doesn’t he know your name? Well, that would kind of defeat the purpose of a blind date then, wouldn—”

“No, no, no, not that. Why haven’t you talked about me with him?”

He flushed. “Did you want me to?”

She shrugged. “I talk about you with my friends.”

He wanted to say ‘what friends’ but was smart enough not to.

“You do?”

She nodded. “And to my mom,” she added. “She could probably care less, though.”

He felt a heady happiness hovering over him.

“What do you say about me?” he grinned.

Caitlin blushed, and he knew in that moment that she wished she could take it back.

“Tell me,” he pushed, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he pulled her close.

“C-c-cisco.” She pushed him slightly, and he felt the shivers that went up and down her arms.

Could she maybe?

He felt dazed.           

“Should I be worried?” he asked, even though he wasn’t in the slightest.

She overcame her embarrassment and faced him directly.

“What? No! All good stuff, I promise.”

He grinned and daringly leaned in, whispering, “What good stuff?”

Caitlin caught her breath.

“Just uh…” She swallowed again. “Just that you’re nice and smart and that you’re going to make an amazing engineer someday.”

“Anything else?” he asked, even though that knowledge alone was enough to satisfy him for days, maybe forever.

“I…I don’t think so,” she stuttered.

He wasn’t sure, but he figured that meant there was.

“I didn’t tell Barry about you because you are way out of his league,” he said, deciding to relent on teasing her.

She blinked. “I am?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Way out of my league too,” he said without thinking.

She averted his eyes. “Well, I’m not sure about that one. If anything, you’re out of mine.”

He said nothing, and she shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to answer her, but he was stuck on the implications of what she was saying.

“Well,” she squeaked. “You uh, you said this dress works, right?” He said nothing, so she kept going. “You did. I remember you saying that just a minute ago, which means I have nothing to worry about. And if you think I’m out of Barry’s league, then I feel better already. I can end the night early and he probably won’t be any the wiser.”

She stood to her feet, almost toppling over when she got there. Cisco saw the blush travel up her neck as he watched her round the couch and head for the door. Her hand was on the knob before he registered his mind shouting at him – Go after her!

“Caitlin, wait!”

He tossed the pillow aside and got to the door just moments before she opened it.

“What is it?” she asked innocently, forcing a smile but not totally able to meet his eyes.

“You want to know why I didn’t talk to Barry about you that much all these years?”

Hesitantly she met his eyes, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Why?”

He took a deep breath. “Because I didn’t want him to get interested.”

Her brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t want him to be interested, then why tonight would you—”

“Because, I, me,” His hands flew about. “I wanted you to be interested in me.”

Her jaw dropped, and she stared.

He pulled his hand down his face and sighed.

“But, we had such a good thing going with our friendship here, and I was in denial about my feelings for you, and so I just…”

“You wanted to prove to yourself that you didn’t have feelings for me,” she concluded.

He hung his head. “Yeah. That…” he laughed nervously. “That pretty much sums it up.”

Caitlin started to smile. It didn’t take long for Cisco to sense it. When he looked up at her he couldn’t decide if he should succumb to his awe of her beauty or his fear of her next words.

“What?” he asked, his lips twitching.

She burst out with one happy laugh and then draped her arms around his neck.

“I like you, Cisco.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” She nodded. Her smile spread to his face.

“Like, how much? Do you like me like friends or do you like me like—”

She cut him off, kissing him, pulling him to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Oh,” Cisco said, reminding himself to breathe when they finally pulled apart. “You like me like that.”

Caitlin giggled. “Yep.”

“For, uh…for how long?”

“Would you tease me mercilessly if I said from the beginning?”

He felt as though he’d been hit over the head with a sledgehammer.

“Only if you tease me,” he said breathlessly, looking at her dazed.

“Yeah?” Her grin spread so wide it looked like it hurt. Cisco was practically lightheaded knowing he was the cause of it.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his eyes lowering to her lips again.

Caitlin’s blush covered all the pale skin on her face, but she melted into him when his face inched towards hers again and wholeheartedly succumbed to his kiss.

“You ever seen Star Wars?” he murmured against her lips when they parted again.

At that moment all she wanted was to make out with him, but to please him she said, “Nope.”

“Want to?” he grinned, looking gleefully into her eyes.

“Can I go home first?” she asked to which he frowned. “If I’m staying here with you, and not going out…I want to be comfortable.”

His smile resumed. “Problem solved, my friend.”

He released her and started to head towards his bedroom.

“Girlfriend,” she chirped, which made him pause. He turned around and looked at her, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped.

“Girlfriend?”

She cleared her throat. “I mean…if you want.”

His cheeks hurt with how wide he was smiling. But before he could embrace her again, he went with purpose to his room, dug out what he was looking for and returned to her.

“What are these?” she asked, taking the set of pink PJs he’d brought her.

“You left them at that one lock-in study group we went to. Remember, the only one you let yourself go to because I promised there wouldn’t be alcohol and that you’d studied enough for one week?”

She started to smile. “Right. They required us to wear pajamas the whole night.” She looked down at them and shook her head. “And I wore my pink bunny ones like a fool.”

“I wore Power Rangers,” he retorted.

She looked up at him and smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

“True.”

“I’ll change into mine, you change into yours…meet up in five minutes for Star Wars and pizza pockets?”

With an effort, Caitlin shifted her gaze to the table and the pizza pockets that lay there.

“Eating yours instead of mine?” She looked back at him with dramatic flair. “Scandalous.”

He grinned. “I figured I owe you.”

“So…” She bit her bottom lip, not meeting his eyes again, just waiting.

“Girlfriend. Definitely girlfriend,” he confirmed and kissed her again.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.