#i wanna explain to him what's a kilometer while he eats me out

[sky-is-the-limit]

Alex Keller is the type to say "ooohh big stretch" with a beaming smile on his face as he pushes a third finger in you, and I won't elaborate.

[chibi-beaver]

A Romantic Night in

Rating: Mature/Explicit (It straddles the line a bit)

Words: 3.7K

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Relationships: Hunter/Reader, Hunter & Omega

Characters: Hunter, Omega, You

Tags: Domestic fluff, Romance, Porn with plot (but like it's not terribly explicit most of the time), no y/n, little to no angst, FLUFF, female reader, established relationship, movie night, modern AU

Summary: You and your boyfriend Hunter have a fun night in after picking up Omega from soccer practice

(I don't usually write smut but it kinda just happened and I shocked myself with it lol)

Fic under the cut

You and Hunter were preparing your shopping list for the grocery store, going through the cupboards, seeing what was running low.

"I have an idea!" Hunter said.

"What is it?" You ask.

"You know you've wanted to have another date night, but we also have Omega tonight?"

"Yea" you respond. Omega was shared between Hunter and his brothers. She typically lives with Hunter but the others also get her throughout the week. She just spent Friday and Saturday with Tech and Wrecker, who recently moved out into their own apartment. You had a feeling that Tech thought the house was too full now that you were living there too. She also spent some time with Crosshair on Wednesday but his schedule was quite busy so she only spent time with him whenever he was not on a business trip.

"We should have a fun night in, we make some food, watch movies with Omega until she gets tired, and then after she goes to sleep, we can have our own movie date," Hunter said, as he hugged you from behind.

"That sounds like a great idea!" You say, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.

"We'll go pick up some stuff to make our favourite nachos, and some popcorn for Omega along with the rest of our groceries, then pick her up from soccer practice at 6:30, get her some dinner, and then we change into our PJs and watch movies," Hunter said. An ear-to-ear grin formed on his face as he described the plan. You smiled back as you felt some heat enter your cheeks. You then check your watch.

"Let's head out then, seeing as it's 5:30 and it takes us 20 minutes to get to the grocery store," you say.

"Yea, we should," Hunter said as he got the grocery note and the keys.

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

You got into the passenger seat while Hunter took the wheel. You plugged your phone into the AUX and started to play your favourite music.

"I didn't expect all this traffic at 5:30 on a Sunday night," Hunter remarked.

"Me neither," you said as you looked out the front window at all the cars.

"BUDDY! COME ON!" Hunter frustratedly said at the slow driver in front of him.

"Who does 45 kilometers an hour in a 70 zone?!" Hunter said.

"That guy apparently," you said as Hunter pulled into the other lane and passed him.

The rest of the drive to the store was relatively peaceful as Hunter's road frustration faded. He found a place to park and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Happy to be off the main road?" you asked.

"Yes! I hate slow and incompetent drivers," Hunter said as he turned off the car. The two of you got out, took your bags, and went into the store.

"What's on our list?" you ask as Hunter gets a cart.

"We need chicken, milk, popcorn, peppers, some fruit, yogurt, cheese, salsa, sour cream, and tortilla chips," Hunter said, reading off the note.

"Sounds like a plan," you say as Hunter walks closely behind you, pushing the cart as you start looking for the various items. You start in the produce section where you get your peppers and some of Omega's favourite fruits. She was in a strawberry phase lately so you made sure you picked up strawberries.

"We need to get her something new too," Hunter said.

You noticed some blackberries nearby.

"Has she tried blackberries?" you ask, gesturing towards the half-pint of blackberries that are on sale.

"I don't think," Hunter said as he saw them too.

"Let's get them," you said.

"Ok," Hunter said as he let you put it into the cart.

You then proceed into the aisle with chips in it.

"One-stop shop it seems," you remark as you see chips, popcorn, and salsa in the same aisle.

"Mild or medium?" Hunter asks as he looks at the salsas.

"Medium, I need a little kick damn it," you say.

Hunter chuckles. "Remember the last time we had medium salsa?" he asks, clearly teasing you.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary happened," you insisted.

"Pretty sure last time you were begging for milk because it was too spicy," Hunter said as he stepped closer to you.

You knew what he was referring to but you decided to take it in an entirely different direction.

"Are you referring to the outcome of our last movie date?" you ask with a smug look on your face.

Hunter's cheeks turned bright red.

"Uh, well" Hunter said, not sure how to finish that sentence. You knew that was not the direction he was taking it. The last time you had medium salsa was a while before your last movie date with Hunter. You tried it for the first time and couldn't handle the spice. The outcome of your last movie date, however, was certainly not appropriate to discuss in a public setting such as aisle 1 of a grocery store.

"Don't tell me you're trying to make a sexual innuendo out of that," Hunter whispered.

You simply smirked and winked at him.

"Let's just say that two can play that game, cyar'ika," Hunter whispered as he put medium salsa into the cart and started to take the cart further down the aisle to get some popcorn. Your cheeks soon matched the colour of Hunter's. You can't help it but you also can't explain why when he says that word, you become putty in his hands. Especially after you learned what that word means. It did something to you, in a good way of course.

You catch up to him as he is looking at the prices of the popcorn.

"Should we buy the bigger package or the smaller one?" Hunter asked.

"The bigger one is obviously the better deal," you say.

"Yea but we don't use a lot of popcorn," Hunter said.

"It's not like popcorn is a perishable item though," you counter.

"True," Hunter says as he puts the bigger package into the cart.

Your next stop was the meat and dairy sections of the store. You pick up a package of fresh chicken breasts. It was bigger than what you needed for your nachos but you were going to use it for meal prep for the week. You tried to bring lunch from home as much as possible to work, and you were hoping to pass that way of thinking to Hunter too.

Once you got to the dairy section, you were disappointed to see that the yogurt you and Hunter like is not in stock.

"Damn," you say as you look at the empty shelf.

"You got that right," Hunter says.

"I guess we'll need to look somewhere else for it another time," you say.

"True, just not tonight," Hunter says while chuckling.

"Yea," you reply as you pick up the sour cream and Hunter picks up the milk.

"Last item, cheese," you say as you proceed further down the dairy section and find a block of cheddar cheese on sale.

"Let's get this checked in," Hunter says as you proceed to a self-checkout.

You get out of the store in record time. Bless those self-checkouts, you thought as you got into the car. The next stop was to pick up Omega from soccer practice.

The traffic seemed to calm down a bit while you were in the grocery store, with the main roads only about half as busy. It took no time to get to the field that Omega goes to for practice.

"Just in time," Hunter said as he looked at the clock in the car, 6:20. You got out of the car to join some of the other parents who had just gotten there to pick up their kids. You could tell that Hunter was feeling a bit anxious. All the other parents, you could tell were actually the parents of their kids while Hunter was in a different situation. He and his brothers took up the mantle of caring for Omega because their mother works so much and their dad died before she was born. It's gotten so bad that Hunter and his brothers were made her guardians and their mother only shows she's involved by sending Hunter, his brothers, and Omega money. While Hunter was quite a bit older than his sister, he wasn't quite old enough to be her dad without someone questioning his age when she was born. Hunter was 17 when she was born and she's 8 now.

"Hunter!" Omega called out after her practice ended.

"Hey kid," Hunter said as he collected her.

"How was practice?" he asked as the three of you went back to the car.

"It was good. I scored a goal today!"

"Really? That's awesome! Wanna get a happy meal to celebrate?" Hunter said.

"YES YES YES!" Omega said.

"Glad to hear it, let's get to McDonald's," Hunter said.

"Hi, welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you?"

"Hi, can I get a McNugget happy meal," Hunter said into the drive-thru window.

"Yep, would you like the girl toy or the boy toy?"

"Which one do you want?" you whispered to Omega.

"Boy toy!" she said.

"She wants the boy toy," you relay to Hunter.

"Boy toy please," Hunter said.

"Great, your total is $5.51, drive through."

"You get to the first window.

"I can pay," you offer.

"No, I'm paying," Hunter insisted.

"You just paid for groceries, I can pay," you said but it was too late, Hunter had already tapped his card. Looking at you the entire time with a smug look on his face.

You rolled your eyes as he pulled up to the second window and got the food. Omega was elated to get her nuggets and fries and immediately started eating them.

"Mind giving Hunter a fry?" Hunter asked.

"I do mind," Omega said as she kept eating her fries. You laugh as she says this and she joins in.

"Wow thanks," Hunter said sarcastically before saying "it's a long walk home," referencing that he's driving the car. You knew he wasn't being serious based on his tone of voice. He was just playing around.

Omega had finished her meal by the time you three got back home.

"Make sure you bring your garbage in," Hunter reminded Omega as he turned off the car.

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

Once you got into the house, Omega got into the shower while you and Hunter changed into your pajamas. Hunter quickly changed into his favourite pajamas, a black t-shirt with dull red camo pajama pants while you sifted through your pajama only to put on a pair of white shorts and a bright red t-shirt that had a faded logo of something on it. Omega still wasn't done in the shower when you both changed so you went downstairs and started making the nachos.

Your nachos called for grilled chicken breast that was liberally seasoned, diced bell peppers (colour doesn't matter), onions, jalapenos, and of course, lots of cheese. You started the chicken and grated the cheese while the chicken cooked. Meanwhile Hunter prepped the veggies. Hunter stole a few shreds of cheese before you smacked them out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"That's for the nachos!" you replied.

"Party pooper," Hunter said with a pout.

"It's better melted, trust me," you said.

Once the chicken was just cooked, you got the sheet pan ready with parchment paper and made a layer of chips. You put a thin first layer of cheese before adding the chicken.

"You got the veggies ready?" you asked.

"Just about," Hunter said.

Hunter then added the prepped veggies before you added a much thicker layer of cheese on top before sticking it into the oven.

"I love cooking with you," Hunter said as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Me too, when you and your big appetite aren't stealing some of the ingredients," you joked.

"You clearly haven't seen Wrecker's appetite."

"Fair enough," you replied.

"You know you love me anyways," Hunter said.

"I do," you said as Hunter left a few kisses on your neck.

You giggled as you heard Omega come downstairs. You pulled away from one another immediately.

"You wanna watch some movies wiht us?" Hunter asked.

Omega nodded her head.

"You want some nachos with us or do you want some popcorn?" Hunter then asked.

"Popcorn!" she said.

You smiled. You thought the kid was so cute sometimes.

Hunter put a bag of popcorn into the microwave, entering the time it says on the bag.

"Wanna help pick out a movie?" You asked.

"Sure!" Omega replied as you and her went to the couch and turned on the TV. You let her pick which streaming service she wanted. Of course she picked the one that had the most kids movies. Omega had her own kid friendly profile on every service you were subscribed to. She picked the same movie she always picks.

You got up for a minute to check on the nachos.

"I bet you can't guess what movie we're watching," you say, teasingly.

"It's the one about the lions again, isn't it?"

"Yep," you said as the microwave beeped. The popcorn was ready.

"I'll bring the popcorn in, you watch the nachos?" you ask.

"Sounds good babe," Hunter said as you emptied the popcorn bag into Omega's favourite bowl. This bowl was white with red stripes all over it. You think it might have been a Christmas bowl at some point with the candy cane like aesthetic. You put the bowl on the coffee table, closer to Omega in order to make room for the sheet pan of nachos. Hunter brings in bowls of sour cream and salsa before going back into the kitchen. You hear the oven open, meaning that he's bringing in the nachos.

"Wanna put on the movie?" you ask Omega.

"Yep!" she says as she picks up the remote and puts on her favourite movie.

Hunter sets the sheet pan down and sits on the right edge of the couch and puts his arm around you. You looked over at Omega, who seemed to be enjoying the opening scenes of the movie while eating her popcorn. You left Hunter's arms to take some nachos.

"mmmm" you quietly said as you ate your first bite.

"You're quite the cook," you whisper.

"Will there be any kisses for the cook tonight?" he whispers back.

"Maybe later," you say with a wink.

About a half hour later, Hunter noticed that Omega was out of popcorn but was looking at the nachos.

"Want some nachos?" he whispers.

Omega tried the nachos but didn't seem to be a fan of the peppers and picked them off.

Once the nachos were all gone you snuggled into Hunter for the rest of the movie. He kept his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder every once in a while, presumably to keep his hand from falling asleep. You rested your head on his shoulder and he started to play with your hair.

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

The movie ended about 1 hour and 40 minutes later, after which Omega wanted to go to sleep.

Hunter went upstairs with Omega while you cleaned up all the food. You groaned at the thought of washing dishes so you put them in the dishwasher instead and turned it on.

"That's a job well done," you say before heading back into the living room.

Hunter soon proceeded downstairs.

"You put her to bed?" you asked.

"Yea, she was quite tired after soccer practice and a movie," Hunter said.

"I'd say, hopefully she gets enough sleep so that she won't be tired at school tomorrow,"

"I hope," Hunter says as he sits back on the couch with you.

You pick up the remote and went into your own profile. Scrolling through movies before you and Hunter finally agreed on one. It was an action movie about a superhero. As the movie starts, Hunter wraps his arm around you while you rest your head on his chest.

Hunter kisses your forehead. You look up at him and kiss him on the lips.

"Finally some kisses for the cook?" Hunter asks.

"You betcha!" You said as you raised your self to be closer to Hunter's level to make kissing him a bit easier. He kept his arm around you but lowered it slightly so that his hand was toying with the bottom of your shorts. You run your hand through his hair as he moves his hand under your shorts, massaging your butt.

"Someone's feeling a little frisky tonight," you remark as you adjust your positioning to be straddling him. He allows this, guiding your legs into position.

"How can I not be?" he says once you're in the desired position.

His cheeks are growing redder as his hands explore your body. He has one hand holding your waist while the other is making its way under your shirt. He plays with your tits for a few minutes before moving that hand to your waist too. He holds onto you as he plants some kisses to your neck. You softly moan as his lips hit all the sensitive spots that he knows gets you off. He leaves your neck as you coax him back up to kiss you on the lips again. Neither of you hold back with the kiss, exploring one another with your lips and tongues.

Once you pull away from one another, you remove your shirt. Hunter collects the shirt and throws it on the floor before taking off his own shirt, with your asssistance. Your legs start to hurt from being bent for a while. Hunter notices this.

"Wanna switch around?" he asks.

You nod your head as the two of you get up from the couch. You get back onto the couch, this time laying down while he finds his way between your legs, placing himself on top of you.

He kisses your lips for a bit longer before going lower. His lips move to your neck, then your chest. He stays there for a few minutes, kissing your tits and using his hands to get you off. You could tell that he liked pleasing you. Every time he tried something, he gauged your reaction and continued accordingly. You could also feel him getting harder against your pelvis.

He moved towards your stomach and soon reached your pelvis. He put his hand down your shorts and searched for your clit. You'd admit that he wasn't perfect at finding it but at least he tried. You removed his hand for a minute to take off your shorts and throw them to the floor as he did with your shirt. You soon tugged at his pants strings.

"Go ahead cyar'ika", he said.

"You know I like it when you call me that," you admit.

"That's why I do it," he whispered.

You take off his pants and put them on the floor with your own clothes. He moves your panties to the side and starts kissing you more. You moan softly as he does that, tyring not to be too loud as to not wake Omega. Instead you ran your hands through Hunter's hair, grabbing some of it.

Hunter chuckled before saying, "I see someone is enjoying themselves."

He puts your panties back where they're supposed to be once you decide to return the favour. You pull down his underwear and let your lips and tongue do the work with your hands being of assistance at times. He too softly moaned as your tongue hit a sensitive spot.

"How does that feel, cyar'ika?" you ask. Hunter chuckles and you soon realize that you kinda butchered the pronouciation.

"I butchered that, didn't I?"

"Yea but I like it, maybe I can teach you the proper pronounciation sometime," Hunter said.

"I'd like that," you said as you moved upwards from your current position, placing your head level with Hunter's.

"I'm sure you would, cyar'ika," Hunter said as he kissed you on the lips once again.

You then removed each other's underwear. Hunter teases you for a few moments before giving you what you want. You wrap your legs around him as he moves in and out of you.

However, the couch is nowhere near the size of your bed and as you move around to change positions, you fall off the couch. Hunter soon also falls and lands next to you, moving the coffee table slightly so that he didn't hit it.

"Hopefully Omega didn't hear that," you say as you lay next to Hunter.

"I don't think she did, she's sound asleep by now," Hunter said.

The two of you then laugh at the predicament.

"You wanna keep going?" you ask.

"Definitely," Hunter said as he sat himself up against the couch. You decide to straddle him once again. You position yourself onto him while he pulls some couch cushions down and places two under your knees. He places his hands on your ass as you control the pace this time. He raised his legs to make you and him more comfortable. You lean down to kiss him. He reciprocates the gesture, meeting you halfway. The kiss becomes pretty deep before he pulls away and out.

He soon finishes, with your assistance. You sit on the floor next to him afterward.

"It seems this movie night ended similarly to last movie night," you comment.

"I certainly don't mind this outcome," Hunter comments.

"Of course you don't you dog," you tease.

"Don't lie, you're just as naughty," Hunter teases back.

"We should probably clean this up and go to bed," you say.

"I couldn't agree more," he says as the two of you get up.

The curtains are closed so you don't mind not putting your clothes back on as you and Hunter repositon the coffee table and put the cushions back properly before heading upstairs and quickly heading to your room. The two of you then get into bed. You lay on your side and Hunter soon joins, spooning you. You turn your head around to face him for a moment. He leans in and kisses you softly.

"Good night cyar'ika".

"You're gonna keep calling me that now, aren't you?"

"Yep. Goodnight. I love you."

"Goodnight, I love you too," you say as you begin to drift off to sleep.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Sugar Rush

Summary:  

Marley brings the celebration of Halloween to Paradis. Hange and Levi go trick or treating with their child for the first time and start to realize how much the world has changed since the war.

A Halloween piece for the Levihan spookfest, one year late. (I hope you’re still accepting them.)

Written for @levihanweek. to cap off Levihan Angstober. Happy Halloween everyone!

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: For people who read "Rough day," this domestic fluff piece is set in the same universe. I just wanted to contribute a Halloween piece for the Levihan Spookfest. I am one year late though.

"Happy Halloween!" Hange chimed as she entered the kitchen and plopped her already dolled up kid down on the table next to her. 

"So what are the tacky decorations and costumes for?" 

Hange was wearing a full body suit of the colossal titan while Luke, their five year old child was wearing a mini armored titan costume. A part of Levi wondered how people of Paradis had so easily forgotten the attack of Shiganshina that titan costumes existed and were actually being sold. He had seen a few people in titan suits on the way to the market just that morning. 

"These are all to scare away the spirits!" Hange explained.

"Of dead people?"

"Of dead people."

"It would be nice to be visited by some ghosts. Wouldn't you want to see Erwin or maybe even Moblit again?" Levi had seen enough death in his life that the holiday which Marley introduced to them which was supposed to them did not seem as scary as the people were painting it out to be. The idea of the dead people visiting felt almost desirable for that hardened soldier one who'd seen too many people die.

"But daddy, ghosts are scary! They can kill you!" Luke said as he walked towards Levi.

What are they teaching this kid in school? "What if those ghosts were daddy's old friends? Do you think they’ll kill you?" Levi bent down to face his son only to see the boy looking utterly confused.

Levi only had to look back at how they raised him to understand why. Despite his parents background, the boy was raised with what they have considered too peaceful an upbringing. The closest thing to a blood bath he had seen was when Hange so enthusiastically pulled out his baby tooth just a few months ago. Levi was not sure though if the kid had been scared of the blood or the strong reaction of his mother. 

"Levi, get dressed. It'll be our first trick or treat."

"I'm ready already." Levi walked to the balcony room where he had let his old survey corps cloak hang out to dry after thoroughly washing it. 

"You're wearing that?" Hange asked, raising one eyebrow in disappointment. "Isn't that a bit too lazy?"

"Let me try out this new festival of yours and if it's any fun maybe I'll try harder next time." 

Levi and Hange both lived towards the center of Paradis since Hange was closely working with the government to help the island catch up to its peers. They had agreed to use the holiday as an excuse to see parts of the new Paradis they had not seen in a while, having rented a space in the outskirts for a few days. Hange had seen her fair share since she was back and forth from the ports and the center due to work. Levi on the other hand barely visited the outer cities, having spent his time keeping the household running and raising Luke while Hange worked full-time.  

They made the thirty minute walk to the outskirts where Hange concluded was the start to the most time efficient route with the highest possible yield of candy, that looped all the way back to their rented bungalow.

It turned out the strategy of the former commander had been almost foolproof. One kilometer in and Luke's bag was almost half full.

"Hey man, your survey corps costume looks pretty good!" 

Levi looked to the voice behind him to see a teenage boy in a titan costume. 

"Did you make it yourself?" The teenage boy continued. 

Levi looked to Hange as if to ask "Who made our costume?" In fact, Levi had just wanted to walk on, ignoring the teenage boy. It had been less than a decade since the end of the war. With the quick advancement of technology, it felt like more of a century ago to Levi. That instance only reminded him what people saw as a soldier uniform's long ago has been reduced to a costume prop.

"I did actually. What do you think?" Hange asked 

It was a blatant lie.Technically though she did design the new uniform when the war against Marley started. Levi thought to himself. 

"Well you got the colors of the wings of freedom wrong. The blue wing is on the right side not the left." 

                                               Sugar Rush

"Hey Hange, you should monitor how they make the survey corps costume. This is slightly pissing me off," Levi muttered as they started to get to the denser parts of town. 

"Well, with a port to run and research to do, I don't really have time to monitor holiday costume designs."

Although there were many people in titan costumes, there were also a fair number of people donning the survey corps cloak, a few in garrison uniform, and fewer in the military police. Although the survey corps had a rocky start, towards the end of the war against Marley, they were painted to be the main hero, their stories told in bars, restaurants, wherever people would listen. It was only natural that clothing manufacturers got on wind with the popularity. 

But they got it all wrong. Levi thought. He turned to Hange to see that she was just slightly amused at it. 

As they walked on, they passed by a park where a group of kids in survey corps cloaks were playing. 

"I'm Levi! Humanity's strongest soldier!" One kid said as he climbed on top of a rock.

Levi heard Hange chuckling behind her as he stopped to watch the play between the five kids unfold. 

"No I wanna be Levi!" The smaller kid protested as he tried to pull the larger kid down from the rock.

"You can't be Levi! Levi is big and strong! Mommy and Daddy said so!"

Levi did not know who mommy and daddy were but he found himself interested enough to approach the group of kids. At first, they looked almost terrified to see an adult stranger approach. Levi made an effort to smile though which worked enough at least for them to stay put. 

"Levi can be as tall or short as you want him to be." Levi patted the small kid's head then looked at all the kids. "Kids, make sure to take turns." 

"It's okay! I'm Captain Erwin!"

"I'm Captain Hange!"

"I'm Captain Mike!" 

It's Mee-keh not Maik. "That's good. Don't play too rough." Levi found himself struggling to keep the friendly smile. He walked away from them, quickening his pace with every step, trying to stop the urge to play cop and point out the inaccuracies in their casual game of soldier. 

Erwin and Mike probably would not have minded those inaccuracies but something inside Levi protested the omission on his end. 

"You're not going to correct them?" Hange said as he walked back at her. 

"Erwin and Mike probably wouldn't have cared. Do you mind?"

"No. Not really. But humanity's strongest being big and tall..." Hange widened her eye in emphasis as she gave him a onceover from head to toe. 

“Humanity's strongest might even like that.”

"Daddy did you meet captain Levi? Was he really big and tall?" Luke pulled on Levi's cloak as he asked. 

"He can be as big and tall as you want him to be Luke."

                                           Sugar Rush

"Tell me more about Captain Levi! Was he big? Tall? Was it weird that you were also Levi?"

Hange and Levi had allowed their son to eat a few candies that night. Levi was sure he had at least rationed it well to keep the child happy but prevent a sugar rush. 

Maybe it was when he went to take off his cloak, wash it and leave it out to dry did Hange sneak him a few more candies in. As he looked inside the bag to see everything had been opened and half eaten, he was sure that that could have been the only explanation. 

As Levi snuck a glance at Hange, he could tell she was regretting it. I told you a while ago a handful is enough. 

“Where did you learn so much about this captain Levi figure?” Levi asked, humoring the young boy.

“The teacher tells stories about him. He was part of the Ackerman clan and he could destroy one hundred titans in one swoop.” Luke excitedly yet awkwardly swung his imaginary sword in the air and Levi could not help but note that he would have never swung his blades in that manner. “You and mommy were both soldiers right? Did you get to meet him?”

“A few times.” 

“I told my friends in school that my parents were retired soldiers and they said that the soldiers were playing and eating inside the capital while the survey corps actually went outside and fought the enemy. I think you and mommy were different. Mommy would have done research right? While you were fighting the bad people in the walls right?”

“Maybe I was.” Levi turned to Hange for help. The latter was too busy rummaging through her kid’s bag for candy. Luke did not seem to notice or probably did not care, his eyes were fixed on his father and Levi wondered how long the kid had been keeping it in.

“How was Captain Levi?”

“He was a friendly guy.” Levi answered. He heard Hange snort next to him.   

“Did he ever save you from titans?”

“A few times.” 

 “Then you must know what happened to him? Even our teacher doesn’t know!”

                                                Sugar Rush

It was almost midnight. Only thirty minutes ago did Luke’s sugar rush die down. Soon after though, the young boy had fallen asleep and like on most other nights, Levi and Hange were left alone together. They were going through the pile of uneaten candy of their son, having decided that they had to eat what was left since they had no place to store it without risking an ant infestation.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Hange asked as she went back to the table. She had checked up on their son just a second ago, making sure she was asleep before she brought up the elephant in the room. 

“Didn’t you hear the kid? If we told him where Captain Levi was, he was gonna tell all his friends. We can’t really trust a five year old kid to keep secrets just yet.”

“And you don’t want people to know where Captain Levi is,” Hange said matter of factly.

“I went for this type of life because I wanted peace.” Levi popped a half eaten chocolate in his mouth. 

“Which explains why you wanted our kid to take up my name instead.” 

“Ackerman never stuck. I’ve always been just Levi.” 

Luke Zoe was the more conservative naming choice. Levi Ackerman had become a household name while the full name of the commander had been known only among those who did the research but her stories were not as blown up as that of the captain. 

Oddly enough, their child had not picked up on both their first names being the same ones as those of the survey corps soldiers. Levi had attributed it to the fact that the boy spent most of his days with him while Hange was at work. The retired soldier had dedicated his time to other things like cleaning, housework, child rearing and tea mixing, having put his bloodier past behind him. The kid saw them as parents, not as the heroes he was hearing about in school. 

I wanna meet a survey corps soldier! They sound so cool! You must know one! Bring me to one. I wanna thank them for their service! Ask them how they flew through the air. I wanna see how big and burly they are.

Or possibly, Luke already had expectations on what they looked like and Levi and Hange just did not fit the profile.  

"Maybe we should buy him a mini survey corps cloak too. It feels weird that the survey corps played such a big part of our lives and we’re not even giving him that,” Hange suggested. 

“And support shitty research. No way.” Levi rolled his eyes as he imagined the erroneous design of the wings of freedom insignia. 

“As someone who has worked on research her whole life, I can sympathize.” Hange gave Levi a consoling smile. The cloak was last used more than fifteen years ago and the more recent designs had probably already overshadowed the one used back when the survey corps was still seen as inferior to the garrison and military police. “Hey, can you eat this gooey colorful one? It sticks to my teeth.” 

“How much more do we have to eat?” Levi emptied the bag on the table. Luke had eaten half of every single candy in the bag

“Maybe your trick or treat route was just a little too strategic Hange.”  

They did not sleep that night.    

[splendidlyimperfect]

When Gray wakes up one night with a voice in his head, the last thing he expects is to suddenly be sharing a body with a demon. Natsu is nothing like Gray expected, though. He's surprisingly charming, and more concerned about getting Gray to eat vegetables than he is with taking over the world. Since Gray can't push him away like he does with everyone else, he begrudgingly accepts Natsu's place in his life - for now. But when Natsu ends up needing Gray's help, what started out as an inconvenience turns into a road trip - and a friendship - that changes Gray's life.

written for @fuckyeahgratsu​ gratsu weekend 2021 event 

day 3 (super late but still!); prompt: consume

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster Characters: Gray Fullbuster, Natsu Dragneel, Lyon Vastia, Mard Geer Tartarus Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Humor, Adventure, Demonic Possession, but the good kind, demon Natsu, References to Depression, Depressed Gray, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sort Of, Road Trips, Falling In Love, Natsu's not an evil demon, he really just wants to take care of Gray, Gray sucks at feelings

-----

“Let me get this straight.” Lyon stared at Gray from where he stood in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. “You want me to help you find a demon, then exorcise that demon so that the other demon inside of you – that I apparently summoned while drunk – can get back into his body.”

“He’s not very bright, is he?” Natsu said. “I told you he was a shitty warlock.”

Gray snorted and Lyon raised an eyebrow. “He says you’re a shitty warlock,” Gray explained. “And yes, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Can you help me or not?”

Lyon stared at Gray, then moved closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose and peered into his eyes. “I don’t believe you,” he said eventually.

“Why the hell would I lie about this?”

“’cause you probably just took something you shouldn’t have last night and you’re still hallucinating.”

Continue reading on AO3

Gray groaned in exasperation. “You’re the one who did the goddamn spell!” Then he glared at Lyon, adding, “Why did you do it, anyway?”

“Ex,” Natsu reminded him. Gray’s eyes flicked up to his blurry reflection in the microwave. Natsu’s image was standing directly behind him, so close he almost had his chin on Gray’s shoulder. The look in his eyes was somewhere between disgust and amusement.

“You were pissed at Loke, weren’t you?” Gray asked. Lyon’s scowl gave him the confirmation he was looking for. “You seriously tried to summon a demon to… what, beat up your ex?”

“I wasn’t trying to summon a demon!” Lyon said, holding up his hands in surrender. “It was just some stupid spell from one of those forums online. It didn’t do anything.”

“Except it did.” Gray gestured vaguely to where Natsu’s reflection was behind him. “And now your stupidity is my problem.”

Lyon shook his head. “Demons aren’t even real,” he insisted. “Seriously, did you try the cookies from the top shelf of the pantry? ‘cause I’m pretty sure—”

“I’m not fucking high!” Gray snapped. He rubbed his temples where his headache was still lingering. “I’m not high,” he said again quietly. “I just want to fix this.” He looked back at Natsu’s reflection in the microwave. “Can you show him? Prove that I’m not crazy?”

Natsu hummed uncertainly, not meeting Gray’s gaze. “Yes,” he said. “But you’re not gonna like it.” Gray’s heart sunk. “I’d need to… take over,” Natsu said. “Everything. Just for a second.”

“You want me to let you…” Gray trailed off and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. All the conflicting emotions running through him – his and Natsu’s – were compounded by the heavy sense of fear that grew in his stomach.

“We can figure out something else,” Natsu said quickly. “Maybe I can—”

“It’s fine.” Gray forced the words out as he opened his eyes and looked back at Lyon’s puzzled face. “Just…” Lyon looked like he might say something, but Gray shook his head, holding up a hand. “Shut up and give me a second.”

He let out the tight breath in his chest, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders.

“I promise it’ll just be for a second,” Natsu said. He sounded regretful. “It’ll feel weird – like when I was petting the cat – but I won’t do anything scary. Well, it’ll be a bit scary for Lyon, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

Gray hesitated. Natsu had only been in his mind for less than a day, but something in Gray’s gut said that he could trust him, even if he was a demon.

“Okay, just make it quick.”

“What are you—”

Lyon’s words faded away as Gray exhaled, closing his eyes, and letting Natsu’s presence overwhelm his mind. It felt warm, like he was sitting next to a campfire and watching sparks flicker up into the sky. The tingling sensation that had filled him earlier came back in full force, leaving him feeling like his hands and feet had both fallen asleep.

When he opened his eyes again, everything looked red.

“Esaeun xnae ya qnuy.” The voice was his, but not his, rough and layered with words that felt too big and wrong for his mouth. They were unfamiliar, but somehow Gray could understand them – he’s telling the truth.

Lyon stared at Gray, eyes wide with terror. “Your eyes are glowing,” he managed.

“Yes. I’m a demon. They do that.” Natsu spoke in the same infernal language, but he sounded more irritated than angry. “I also have sharp claws and could rip your heart out if I felt like it, but I just ate a cinnamon bun and I’m in a forgiving mood. Now do the damn locator spell.”

As quickly as it had taken him over, the warmth and tingling in Gray’s body disappeared, and his vision quickly returned to normal. Lyon was still standing in front of him, but the expression of disbelief was gone, and now he just looked stunned.

“You okay?” Natsu asked in his own voice in the back of Gray’s mind.  

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gray reassured him. “Are you convinced now?” he asked Lyon, who nodded slowly. “Good. Now get your shit together and help me figure this out.”

~

Natsu’s body was in the middle of nowhere.  

“Well then,” Lyon said. He and Gray sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom and stared at the map where the black mark had settled – a little ways away from a tiny town called Belle Creek in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.

“It says only 26 people live there,” Gray said, looking at the information on his phone. “What the hell is a demon doing out in the mountains?”

“I thought he’d be somewhere big,” Natsu said. “A city, or something. Y’know, causing destruction and mayhem. Killing people. Demon stuff.”

“Maybe he’s retired,” Lyon said. Gray rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think demons retire.”

“Well, what else would he be doing in the middle of the mountains?”

“Hiding bodies?” Natsu suggested.

Gray sighed and rubbed his temples before looking back down at his phone. He flipped over to the maps and typed in ‘Belle Creek.’

“It’s ‘close,’ huh?” he said to Natsu, raising his eyebrow at the distance – nearly 45o0 kilometers. “That’s at least a three-day drive.”

“At least I got the right country!” Natsu insisted. “Three days isn’t a long time. Not when you’ve been around for almost two hundred years.”

“Well, I’ve only been around for twenty-six years,” Gray said. He looked up at Lyon, who was still staring at him with a baffled expression. “I need to borrow your car.”

“You… what?”

“Your car.” Gray shoved his phone back in his pocket and tapped the map. “I’m not taking the bus to the middle of fucking nowhere. And this is your fault, so I’m taking your car.”

“You can’t just…” Lyon looked down at the map, then back up at Gray. “What’s your plan? You’re just gonna drive out to this place and, what? Ask if anyone’s seen a demon in human skin? You don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Yes, I do.” Gray pointed to his reflection in the bedroom mirror where he could see Natsu, sitting next to him on the floor. Natsu stuck his tongue out at Gray, who rolled his eyes. “I can see him. He’ll be easy to find. Now, show me how to do an… exorcism, or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” Lyon made a sound of exasperation. “You can’t just—you have no idea what you’re doing. You don’t even have any magic! How are you gonna…”

“I’ll help,” Natsu said as Lyon continued to rant. He picked at his nails. “With the magic, I mean. I’d have to take over again, just for a little, but I could help, if you wanted. Unless you wanna bring him with you—” he gestured at Lyon “—but I doubt he’d be much help.”

Gray snorted. “I’m not spending six days in a car with this asshole,” he said, gesturing at Lyon, who stopped mid-rant and glared at him. “Just show me the spells,” Gray said. “Natsu can help me figure out the rest.”

An hour and a half later they were both back in the kitchen and Gray was shoving a handful of books and old parchments into his bag. Lyon leaned on the counter and gave Gray a serious look.

“Are you sure about this?” He hesitated, then added, “I know you haven’t been… great, not since she—”

“Shut up,” Gray said quickly, gritting his teeth. “I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m fine.” He could feel Natsu’s uncertainty as he turned away from Lyon and snatched his car keys from the hook on the wall, then grabbed the front door handle and swung it open with more force than necessary.

“Gray, I—”

“I can handle this.” Gray interrupted Lyon’s concerned words. He turned around in the doorway, doing his best to give Lyon a reassuring look. “I’ll be back in a week.”

~

Gray stood in the doorway to his bedroom, feeling the familiar sense of frustration and defeat as he stared at the piles of dirty clothes and dresser covered in empty coffee cups. He sighed, making his way to the closet, and searching for his duffle bag.

“What’s wrong?” Natsu asked. He’d been quiet the whole drive home, leaving Gray alone with his thoughts.

Gray shook his head. “Nothing. I just have to pack.” He gestured vaguely to the clothes.

“You’re sad again.”

“I’m not sad,” Gray snapped. “I’m…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m just tired.”

“But it feels like sad,” Natsu said, sounding genuinely puzzled. Before Gray could get mad at him, he quickly added, “I’m not spying! I promise, you’re just – when your feelings are really strong, it’s hard for me to not feel them too. And I feel sad, not tired. It’s weird.”

Gray groaned, tossing the duffle bag on the bed, and rummaging through one of the piles until he found a few mostly clean shirts. As he started to pack up his toothbrush and razor, he gave in.

“My life has kinda sucked lately,” he said. He looked up into the mirror, where Natsu was meeting his gaze and listening intently. “A lot of shitty stuff happened where I used to live, and sometimes it makes me… tired. Of everything.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Gray shoved the toiletries bag into his duffle, then looked around the messy room. “It’s over and I live here now. I’m just trying to figure shit out and I don’t wanna think about any of that stuff. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Natsu was quiet as Gray headed to the front door and started to put on his shoes. Happy, who had been sleeping on the couch, stretched out and meandered over to them.

“Lyon’s gonna take care of you for a bit,” Gray said to Happy as he meowed and rubbed himself against Gray’s leg. “Feel free to bite him.”

Natsu laughed. “Can we pet him again?” he asked. “If not, that’s okay, I just—”

“Sure.” Gray ran his fingers over Happy’s head and scratched behind his ears. He registered Natsu’s surprise, then excitement, and then his arm started to tingle again. Now that he was expecting it, it wasn’t as strange. A warm sensation spread through him as he stroked Happy’s fur.

“You’re happy,” he murmured as he watched his hand with a strange detachment. Apparently feeling emotions went both ways. It was strange – the sensation of contentedness was familiar but alien at the same time.

“I love cats,” Natsu said, scratching Happy under the chin before dissolving his control over Gray’s arm. Gray stood up, looking over at Natsu’s excited expression in the mirror before shrugging on his coat.

“You ready?” he said as he shouldered the duffel bag. He spun Lyon’s keys around his fingers and let some of Natsu’s excitement take over as they headed out the door. “Let’s go get your body back.”

[1-800-hellraiser]

I don't want to set the world on fire (Jeff the Killer x reader x BEN Drowned)

Requested by: no one

Words: 2,273

Genre: Lots of angst (itty bitty bit of fluff at the end)

Associated song: I don't to set the world on fire - The Ink Spots

!TW! Swearing, yelling, arguing, all that tomfoolery. 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

"I've lost all ambition and worthy acclaim, I just wanna be the one you love"

   You step down the concrete stairs of your apartment building. Your boyfriend, Jeff, wanted to meet at the nearby park. He said he wanted to introduce you to someone. You know Jeff works with a lot of people, so you're excited to get to know one of his acquaintances. You pull up the hood of your f/c (favorite color) hoodie, since your s/t (skin tone) ears are getting cold.

   You pop some earbuds into your ears and play some music as you walk to the park. Thinking a bit more about Jeff's acquaintances, you know of one in particular, because he's your mutual friend. That's how you and Jeff met, actually. 

   BEN was actually coming to kill you, but you threw something sharp at him. It stabbed him in the eye, and he had to take a break. So, the mission was given to Jeff. After about a week of fighting every night, you both just decided to stop and become friends. Hell, you became even more somehow.

   You and BEN have been friends ever since he tried to kill you. He comes through your laptop sometimes, although most of the time, he comes through your T.V. You chill together and watch movies, play video games, and just veg out until you both fall asleep. He's also been through a lot with you, every fight you and Jeff had, work and school related stress, nightmares, everything! 

   So, why are you with Jeff and not BEN? Jeff asked you out, you don't think BEN likes you. You just think BEN is your best friend. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you...right?

   BEN lays silently on his bed. He's internally kicking his own ass for not telling you about who Jeff actually was. There's a lot you don't know about Jeff. You're the type of person to wait until someone opens up to you. You don't know that when Jeff's not around you, he's an arrogant, self-centered, asswipe. 

   BEN rolls off his bed, and gets up to go get some food. He wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bowl from the cupboard. A bowl of cereal at 2 pm (14:00) sounds very tasty right about now. He takes the milk carton from the fridge and some Cheerios. 

   BEN plops himself into a chair and starts to munch on his Cheerios. Most of the other pastas and proxies are out on missions. The rest of the pastas and proxies, including BEN, have their day off today. 

   As BEN isn't paying attention and spacing out, Sally hops into the chair next to him at the table. "Hi BEN! Whatcha doin'?" "Ah!" BEN squeaks, almost spilling his cereal. BEN composes himself and glances at the small brunette next to him. "Thinking about a friend." Sally looks up at BEN in curiosity.

   "Who?" Sally tilts her head like a confused puppy. BEN takes another spoonful of Cheerios and shoves them in his mouth. "A girl I became friends with on that one mission. The girl that stabbed me in the eye." BEN explains to the young girl. "Ohhhhh, her. Yeah I remember." BEN nods and swallows the cereal he was eating. 

    Something suddenly clicks in Sally's little noggin. She grows a sly smirk and her eyes become half lidded. She sets her head in her little palm. "You like her don't you?" The young brunette teases. BEN almost spits out his cereal, his face begins to grow red. Sally keeps smiling slyly as BEN tries to explain himself.

   As soon as he gets his bearings, BEN realizes he cant explain himself. He does like you. The tingle in his chest when he's around you. The butterflies he gets when you talk to him. How sweaty his hands get when you text him. How could he have been so blind, he likes, no, loves you.

  BEN sighs and runs his hand through his greasy, blond locks. "I may or may not..." Sally giggles at BEN. "Oh come onnnnnnnnn" Sally's green eyes make contact with BEN's red ones "I know you do. I think you should tell her how you feel." BEN's face gets red and his heart drops. 

   "I can't really do that Sally." BEN states dejectedly, Sally cocks her head at his words. "Why not?" Sally prods further. "She's, Jeff's girlfriend..." Sally looks at BEN with wide eyes. "I didn't know he had a girlfriend, I didn't even think he could get one..." BEN snorts at Sally's remark as he gets up to put his bowl in the sink. 

   Suddenly, an idea pops into BEN's head. He could just tell you how Jeff acts when he's not around you. To be fair, you probably won't believe him, but has to at least try. BEN says goodbye to Sally and semi - confidently walks back into his room. He decides to wait until 5 pm (17:00) to come over. 

   You finally arrive at the park Jeff told you to go to. It is a bit far from your apartment building, but you don't care. You text Jeff to see where he wants to meet you. As you wait for is text, you wander around, admiring the scene.

   There are children running round as they're parents sit on the public benches and chat. There are people with they're dogs (on leashes, of course) and an opening to a forest area. You're getting more interested in the forest, but before you start walking towards it, you get a text back from Jeff. 

   'Meet me by the entrance of the forest'. His text is vague, but you know what he means. You silently walk over to the entrance of the forest. Jeff comes into view along with a female. She has long, almost tomato red hair, a pale complexion, and is about 5'2. She is wearing a denim jean jacket, a black tank top underneath, jeans and a pair of black Doc Martins. 

   You come closer to the pair, noticing Jeff has his arm around the girl. You falter for a minute, before shrugging it off as 'they must be good friends'. Once you get to Jeff and the girl, you notice the female's beautiful green eyes. Her eyes are piercing right through you, in almost a judgmental way. 

   You push the thought away as Jeff introduces you to the girl. Her name is Zoe, a very pretty name. "So, Jeff, what do you want to do here?" You ask innocently, Jeff smirks at you. "Well, I wanted to talk, about our relationship specifically." Your heart drops and you feel the blood drain from tour face. 

   "Oh, uh, ok! What did you want to talk about." You ask, still trying to be optimistic about this situation. Although, you have an idea of where this is going. "Well, I'm breaking up with you, for Zoe. I wanted to tell you in person." Jeff explains, as you stand there dumbly. 

   After you process what he just said, you are livid. "Wow, ok, so, you thought it would be a great idea to have me walk for about a half a mile (0.8 kilometers) just for you to break it off? And, if that wasn't enough you have to bring your girlfriend along with you?" You sneer at Jeff.

  "What the hell man? Like, it would've been better to break it off over the phone, rather than this shit being pulled." You continue, relentlessly. Jeff cuts in "babe, listen, I-" "No! You pull this shit and still have the brass balls to call me babe?! Get bent, Jeff." You finish, flipping him off as you retreat back to your apartment building. 

   As soon as you enter your apartment, you break down. You cry until you're dehydrated. After wallowing in a bundle of blankets for about an hour, you get up to check the time. It is four thirty, you sigh and get up to get some food. Food doesn't solve ALL your problems, but it does solve some of them. 

   You sigh as you stare into a fridge with only a few water bottles and some shredded cheese. You grab a water bottle, then close your fridge and trudge back to your room. You decide to order some food, but you don't know where from. 

   After about 30 minutes, BEN pops out of your T.V. and scares the shit out of your indecisive ass. "What's poppin' Y/n?" BEN asks, sitting next to you on your bed. "Nothin' much, just trying to decide on what to eat for dinner." BEN's eyes light up "CAN WE GET MCDONALD'S?!" You flinch at the sound of BEN's excitement. 

   "Pfft, yeah, we can." You open a handy dandy app on your phone that lets you order from almost any restaurant in your area. You pick out what you want and hand your phone over to BEN when you're done. You got some f/f (favorite food) and BEN got chicken nuggets. 

  "Its gonna take 45 minutes to get here." You inform, BEN groans. You chuckle at his childish nature. "You wanna play some Smash while we wait?" You ask, grabbing you and BEN a controller. "Hell yeah! Imma wipe the floor with your ass!" "Don't be so cocky BEN." You retort sassily. 

   "BRO LITERALLY HOW." BEN yells in frustration, you giggle at him. "I told you not to be so cocky~" You taunt he crosses his arms and pouts. You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. You her a knock at your door and both you and BEN perk up. "I'll be right back, the food's here." You rise up off your semi-stiff mattress and walk out of your room. 

   BEN lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He decided to tell you after about Jeff. He had noticed that you were crying. He noticed your puffy eyes, the unwiped tear streaks, your shaking. He didn't say anything because he wanted to make you feel a little bit better, but he also wants to tell you the truth. 

   You come back with a McDonald's back full of greasy, unhealthy, yet delicious food. BEN licks his lips as you hand him his chicken nuggets. You take out f/f and take a bite. Your mouth salivates even more as you take a bite of the lovely food. 

   After you two are finished, you took the trash out of your room so it won't attract ants or roaches. BEN starts sweating and his heart beats against his rib cage. "Hey, Y/n, can I talk to you about something?" He tries his best to make sure he doesn't look nervous. "Yeah, what's up?" BEN gulps and prepares for the worst.

   "Ok, I wanted to tell you Jeff isn't what he seems. He's an arrogant, asshat that doesn't care about others emotions. He thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread-" "oh yeah I know," BEN stops in his tracks. "Y-you know?" He stutters, looking at you with pure confusion on his features. "Yeah, he broke up with me for a much prettier girl, he name is Zoe, I believe." 

   BEN stares at you in disbelief, not because of the break up between you and Jeff. It's because you weren't breaking down. "A-are you doing okay?" BEN asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Kinda, I broke down earlier about it, but I think I'm fine now." BEN nods and scoots a bit closer to you. 

   "Ok, well, I-I wanted to ask you something. To be fair, it is a bit, sudden and early, and its okay if you don't feel the same." BEN looks at you with a cute blush spreading across his left cheek, over his button nose, to his right cheek. "What do you mean,?" You ask, cocking your head. BEN holds in a breath, and then lets it go. 

   "Y-Y/n, I came over to ask you, if y-you'd be my girlfriend." As soon as those words exit BEN's mouth, he shrinks down in fear of what you'll say. You give BEN a look of sympathy. You gently scoot closer to him, and wrap your arms around him, holding him close to your chest.

   BEN slowly un-tesnses his muscles and wraps his arms around your waist. Burying his head into your shoulder. He breathes into your shirt, your shirt smells like fresh linen laundry soap. He loves that laundry soap. You rub soothing circles on your best friend's back. "I'm so sorry BEN, I had no idea you felt this way." You whisper soothingly. BEN starts to get his hopes up. 

"I don't think I like you like that, BEN."

  BEN's heart drops immediately. He holds on to you tighter. You both sat there in a comfortable silence, BEN blaming himself for catching feelings. You know however, what he's doing.

  "BEN, hun, please don't blame yourself, I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better," you pull away from BEN's grasp, he looks you in the eyes, "we can still be friends." BEN accepts your offer and pulls you into another tight embrace. "Thank you Y/n. God, your the best friend I could ever ask for."

[commonalex]

Gasoline

I know. I can see it in Mrs. Stella's eyes, in the pakistani guy's eyes while he scratches the gyro instead of cutting it, even the new guy's eyes that he keeps on smiling only because they didn't tell him the gas for the bike is on him. I turn my head for one single moment and I can almost hear the eyeballs rolling on my neck. "What's on Maxim's mind right now" or "will he or will he not talk about it" and "why is Maxim even here in the first place". To be honest, Maxim's not feeling quite self-explanatory right now but he is quite sure that teeth are going to go places if the weird stares keep on popping up.

-Wanna go a bit earlier tonight? You can fill in another day, no biggie, kiddo. If you ain't feeling hundred percent, better let it go and pop up when the time's rig..

Mrs. Stella's mole, upper right from her mouth, kind of trips me out every time. I can't quite make out what she tries to say by whispering with this cigarette-ducked voice of hers. Not that I'm really invested hearing her in the first place, she looks like she could really afford a convo. The pakistani guy over there looks at me kinda frightened and I return to normal mode though. Maybe I really am freaking them out and they're right for being concerned when I'm acting like this, but…

-I'm not going home. My shift's till 3, right? It's not even midnight yet.

-That's not what I said, Maxim. Don't go just because I say it, do it for Victor if you please. You understand?

-That's a topic for another time, Mrs. Stella. Gotta deliver these as long as they're still edible.

I'm pressing the water bottle on my neck for an extra second and throw it back at the fridge. The new guy tries for some chit chat to me, like real smooth and all, just so he can ride to get the delivery himself. He says that the bottle was his, I say I'm a bit sort of fucks at the moment. I'm taking the kebabs and storm outside, straight in hell.

My arms and legs are burning up on the bike and I'm still not far for the plaza. Helmet's our of the question of course, except if you're fond of third degree burns. Only this small hint of wind that drags the sweat off my face makes the ride bearable. Up and down, down and up again, steep uphills and downhills turn my brains upside down on the road and I'm trying as hard as I can to chill until my veins are back beneath my skin. I see the nightlights showering the complexes with a cold shade of yellow and I'm fantasise about the people inside them. Like they're getting melted by the heat like me, even though they are watching tv or porn while eating a bunch of fucking junk as I can hardly swallow water at this point.

I turn the key and spend a minute to look at the name. The label's "Vann", the bell's "Vann" too, all good so far. Been here to get him this stuff a hundred times, he's nothing but a divorced loner and kind of a prick on the first floor that is always up for some conversation. I ring, the entrance opens, I storm upstairs and voilà.

   Here we go again. It's not him. Full dark hair, small nose, tall, green-brown eyes, fucked up teeth and short shorts with a wide ass white tee like a curtain. Like taking a look in the fucking mirror. And it's like the tenth delivery this night? Tenth time I see his ass, looking just like me but not really like me. Last nine times I froze and didn't have the courage to think about it out of fear and cringe, let alone not having the money of the delivery to return back at the tavern. But this went too far. If I'm returning for the tenth time only with some cheap coins and excuses Mrs. Stella will have her reason to nag about me. Like what could you say about this shit in the first place? That you saw a dude that kinda looked like you and got the chills?

-Got the card thingy with you?

I barely nod no. He exhales in frustration and asks for change from a ten. He could flip me upside down and wouldn't find enough to even buy a lollie. I nod again. Again with the exhales. He stressfully throws these dirty ass coins in my hand until I have the 4,40. I'm making my move.

-What a coincidence, right? Makes you crazy. It's like a mirror even.

He just stares at me like I just fucked his day up just by talking to him.

-Are these enough, bro?

-Is Mr. Vann gone from here? You heard where he went or something?

-Oh fuck me, you in for a chit chat man? Really? God.

What the hell.

-I only asked.

-So what? Are we like best friends and I didn't know or something?

The door slams my face with the apartment's awful smell as I'm stuck at picking up the coins that fell to the carpet and battling sweat in a hurry just so I can get back outside and stop myself from thinking about how this fucking clone knows my name.

The route back to the tavern seems stretched in my eyes. I feel the bike like it's sliding backwards and I'm trying to catch up with the lost road in front of me. I take turns in weird streets and stop to look if anything is wrong with my wheels; all good though. Could it be me? Dunno. It just looks so strange to me that each and every one that opens his door before me is that same asshole imitating me and shit. Could it be this cheap expired beer I dared to chugg? Nah, must be the heat. A little bit of inside/outside and you're seeing stars for sure. I mean my fingers keep sticking at the handles for God's sake.

I'm circling the plaza to get the sweat out of me and slip through the back door to bypass the lava coming from the gyro; in vain, of course. Even the boomers that were eating like crazy along with their toddlers on the tables outside have gone with their faces looking like a red traffic light, as the pakistani guy said to me. Just by studying his face I can see that as much as he got scared before, he has nothing but pity for me. I mean look at me. I'm nothing but panda eyes, crazy hair and arms and legs really stick-looking. All that plus the fact that I also have rivers of sweat on my neck right now. Why am I like this?

-Why are you like this?

Mrs. Stella spawns behind the fan only to fuck with me again. It must be a pleasure for her to annoy people jsut so we can see her mole dance and feel the rust in her voice to the bone marrow.

-Again with the coins, what can I do? They all want to swipe their cards now.

-Go home, kiddo, take a shower and lay down. We have much more things to worry than you. Do you think we are wanna check on you?

-Yeah man, she's right, Maxim.

Someone remind me when I deliver the next patch to make a call at the missing persons line because for hours we can't find who the fuck gave the new guy the right to get in my shit. I did has my chance with him in private though and explained him crystal clear to stay out of my shit. You know, with logical thinking and maybe threats. Mostly threats I think. Maybe at some point I might have said I have Russian mob ties, gambling on the fact that he might didn't find out that I'm really Ukrainian yet.

-I only need some air. It's like an oven in here.

I really tried to follow Mrs. Stella this time. But because of the mole and the new guy tag teaming on busying my balls I got knocked out. I could listen more enjoyably and clearly the fan spinning around above me than her and her sidekick. I only made out a small chunk of what she spilled.

-And please, take off what you're wearing. Put your own clothes again please.

-Ain't those mine too?

-No. They're Victor's.

Times like this I wish I wasn't so socially incapable to be so shy about asking again the pakistani guy's name again. It would make things so less awkward when I was trying to ask him for the next order. Maybe even less awkward if I hadn't had Mrs. Stella reaching New heights with her raspy voice while I was leaving again.

Of course this all storming out shit caught up to me. I've never seen this street in my life. Could be Mrs. Stella have her pathetic tavern on the Internet order sites to get deliveries across the fucking milky way? But now that I'm thinking about it she's answering the phone every time she gets a text message.

Google maps says 12 kilometers and I'm cursing every saint in existence. All the money that didn't get down the drain thanks to that imposter dude will get down the drain for gasoline. I'm steering and get through streets I normally wouldn't cross even with a bloody tank just to save 2 or so minutes from the route. I pick my head up and feel the breeze cuddling my neck and chest. Finally. Traffic's at an all time low and I really can step in the gas a bit but the heatwave growing arms and legs and all runs behind me. When I get off and go to the apartment building's entrance, heat already caught up to me.

I'm pausing. Name on the bell Al-Jirarddlosomething, the same at the order; and no I won't even begin to try to pronounce this thing. I ring, the entrance opens in 3 secs and enough roaches storm out for a 5 on 5 basketball game, bench included.

I'm hearing traction and voices behind the door, something like that, but I really wanna stick my ear to hear what's going on. Of course this is the time the guy opens up. Or the girl, you don't know.

-So now you found the house, vro? Now that I'm showering?

But you do know.

Same outfit minus the sweatiness, same face, same attitude, same me for up to like 90% percent. And I don't want to be that guy, but I really don't think this is the Al-Jiriarlasomethjng guy. Maybe for a prick.

-9,60.

-What about the coke?

-It's in there, ain't it?

-Take a wild guess.

-Didn't you ask for a bottle?

-Can. I asked for a can. Why would I want a bottle? Where could I put it?

Take a wild guess.

No, I'm joking. I paid for the bottle thing. It wasn't his fault. He asks me full offended why would I pay for him.

-Well, you don't find your long lost twin every day, ha ha. Maxim, and yours?

-All fucking around and saying shit, ah Maxim? Aren't you bored of this already? Good lord.

I think I need to learn how to make friends again.

Gasoline’s is nearly gone, the route I took got lost inside my head as I zig zagging between the buildings and the road is nothing but tar right now with me boiling in it. Still no cars around, though. It's only July and the neighborhood got deserted. It's now so quiet the noise from the engine hits the buildings and bounces back to my eardrums. I'm dizzy as hell right now.

I'm swimming back at the plaza. Outside there are only two tables stuck together with broke and boozed up Airbnb tourists that share fucking french fries and kebabs as two old folks take their dog out for a walk, right beside them. How miserable. Like I know the neighborhood is dead, little by little each day, but tonight you car really feel the death and rotting right up your nostrils. As if something so tragic happened that no one has the courage to address it loudly. Like they're all busy trying to catch a unicorn or something, just to keep their heads off the despair.

-You're not getting it, do you?

I don't have the energy to do this conversation again. Nothing new will be said. If I could I would just stare at Mrs. Stella until she can finally take a fucking hint that I could not care less about what she's been trying to talk about all night with me.

-Forgive me for doing the job you're paying me to do. Not gonna happen again.

-Believe it or not, but as long as you are here you're like my son to me. Even if you're Ukrainian, doesn't matter.

I'm looking sideways like a shark at the pakistani guy that plays with his phone and I want to burst laughing. Dunno exactly why. Maybe because I can't picture her talking the same thing to him. I'm not saying she's racist, I'm saying that she's really focused with me right now that is getting ridiculous. And that she is kind of racist.

-I don't get where this conversation goes. All I know is that I don't wanna do it.

-I do.

Isn't democracy great.

-Where's the new guy at?

-Gone. He wanted to bounce and I just let him go. Maybe cause that's a shit job, maybe cause you were acting like an asshole. Who knows?

-What can I say. I'm sorry.

-You are not sorry. That's exactly what you wanted.

-I don't get it.

-Oh you get it alright. Tell me, you really believe that something bad is going to happen if someone takes Victor's work? As if something bad is going to happen.

I don't want this. I don't need this.

-This is way over the line.

-What can I do to help you? People look at you and you just look back at them like they just called you a hoe. "It will pass" I though, "he's going to rest his head a bit and get right back at his feet". But nothing. It's like you enjoy all this. Being kinda like sick. Just like today, damn; you keep on popping back in there with a different color on your face.

-Ok..

-And then I get the new guy I here and you turn to a complete ass of yourself. As if no one's gets to Victor's place equals that nothing have ever happened. Do you seriously believe that? Answer me, because it seems like I can't make you go home.

-You're right.

And her mole rides a bitter smile of assurance. It was kind of spectacular. Too bad it didn't last long when she saw me catching the last order on my way out. I'm outside and still can feel her cigarette breath on my back.

I'm rolling to the gas station two blocks away and spill my last money for three drops. Worth it, though, if this means getting away from my boss's lecture again. I'm rolling my last cig waiting for a car or something to cross the boulevard. Something that indicates that there's still life and pulse here. I'm waiting until my fingers get toasted, no one. I'm turn the key and fly away. I can't just stand doing nothing; doing nothing makes me think of this kind of shit and nothing good comes out of that.

Distance? A fuck lot. Buildings get unfamiliar quite fast and I'm down this straight line for god know how much time but the gas indicator is still stuck a 1/3. Complexes seven to eight floors high, gardens, yards and a scent of sea salt coming from somewhere near. Did I really get that far south?

Τhe street has the name of an ancient guy with so many syllables even his momma had a hard time calling him, while the number of the address was at a large concrete war crime of nine floors. The fluorescent Bell had one of those weird new female names like Mirtianna or Christian the and that shit with an "astrology" sticked at the end. Of course I got ringed instantly. I getting to the elevator for the ninth floor and try to pick my words for him. I know he's gonna be there, I just need some answers. But how do you start a convo about that? Well, I'm lucky I didn't start it.

-What kind of bullshit is this you're telling her? Did she do you wrong?

I'm trying to read his face. There's not much emotion there, only a small frustration and some eagerness to shut the door right up my face again.

-Well, you could say that.

-Nonsense. You’re just being Maxim again. Spoiled and dumb Maxim. As always.

-Alright. It’s 7,90.

-She’s right, you know. You kinda into all of this. As far as it goes your way, at least. After that you just continue where you left.

-Ok. 7,90. I need to return back money, right?

-Stop wasting time trying to catch unicorns, bro. It’s fine, it’ll pass, you don’t need to follow me around all the time. I mean I’m gone.

What. Is. Happening.

-Oh I’m following you? You just keep popping up in front of me.

-That’s not how it works, Maxim. You feel alone, I get that. But that doesn’t make it ok acting like a dumbass.

-7,90.

-If there’s a problem, at least try to tackle it. Don’t wait for it to go away with your eyes closed.

-Nice to see you, Victor.

I almost tripped on my way down. I got vertigo and chills on my spine for no real reason whilst the scent of the sea from here burns my lungs. I got to get out of here. I got to go back.

With the dizziness in my head I have everything around me move and vibrate the same time the bike barely slides down the road. I can actually catch up with my eyes the buildings rotate around themselves like bolts, the balconies of the apartments wide open with the blueish light of a tv on shining like a projector outside, the yellow stars above me getting bigger and bigger until they turn to street lights. It’s like the world is running down my feet.

I’m processing the things he said to me tonight. I don’t care if he is or isn’t Victor, I only want to understand why is all this happening. I knew that it wouldn’t make much sense for everyone else at the beginning but now I have a difficult time making some of it too. The only thing I seem to achieved tonight was to turn my brains to mush and make things actually harder for me just cause I wanted to get involved to this. All night went to the trash bin because I had the curiosity fucking up my head about understanding what’s happening when in reality nothing matters to me anymore. Why? I don’t know. Because I might really love being like this after all and fucking up my head all on my own like a psycho.

I have no idea how to end all this. Maybe this isn’t as important, though. Like maybe I might be back home right now watching nickelodeon shows until I doze off. Or maybe I have some sort of something and have to go to the doctor; any doctor. Whatever it needs, I don’t care, I’ll go first thing tomorrow. If there’s a problem I’ll try to tackle it. I can’t wait for it to go way with my eyes clo-

Dunno how it happened. I can make out the branches of the trees on the plaza and a silver jeep beast blinding me with its lights. Gasoline is raining on my head I can feel the clatter of people into my ear. They shout and yell above me with their throats clogged in tar; don’t understand a word of them. I’m thirty meters at worst from the tavern and Mrs. Stella is looking me shocked with her mole chilling over the big O that she forms with her mouth. The pakistani guy drags me beside yelling “HEY HEY MAXIM HEY, ZAMEER”. I don’t know if I can feel anything belloc my neck but I’m definitely happy with myself for finding out his name again at last so I wouldn't have to hold that grudge. It’s something. Something small that maybe make me look less ridiculous, stupid and useless that I got hit by a car and going to die at the same exact spot my twin brother died, only a week later.

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 4/4: Start over

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: Mature. WORDCOUNT: 10 247 PAIRING(S): Endgame Taito, though the fic is primarily Taichi-centric. Side pairings include Takeru/Hikari and discussion of past Sorato. CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya, Yamato Ishida, Hikari Kamiya, Takeru Takashi, Daisuke Motomiya, Agumon, Veemon, Gabumon, Sora Takenoushi, and mentions of the rest of the gang. GENRE: Friends to friends-with-bonus-kissing. Also future!fic. TRIGGER WARNING(S): Depression and discussion thereof, including one briefly mentioned suicide attempt in chapter two. SUMMARY: In which Taichi has questionable ways to handle his issues, everyone tries to be nice, and Yamato yells at him a lot. Same old, same old, except for the part where there’s kissing.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: [I. Epic Fail] [II. Rock Bottom] [III. Get Up]

Despite her father’s protests, Ms. Takashi insists to drop Taichi off at his place before she drives home. It’s almost a two kilometers detour, but it does mean Taichi will get to exit the car sooner, and he’s willing to bet Ms. Takashi appreciates that as much as he does. They go through the ride in silence, barely broken by Mr. Takashi’s increasingly feeble attempts at starting a conversation, and by the time they pull up in front of Taichi’s building it’s all he can do not to burst out of the car and flee without a word.

He hurries through the goodbyes, trying his best not to catch anyone’s eyes, and bites on a sigh when Yamato mumbles a quick ‘I’ll walk you’ before exiting the car in turn, without regard for his mother’s attempt at protesting.

They stride across the sidewalk in silence, back resolutely turned to Ms. and Mr. Takashi, pass the double glass doors without a word—Taichi doesn’t even mutter half-hearted threats at the faulty key to his mailbox—and come to a halt in front of the elevator while they wait for it to come back from the twelfth floor. On his left, Taichi can feel, more than he sees, the way Yamato purses his lips in concentration, giving Taichi ample time to cringe at what is sure to be coming before he finally says:

“’Maybe Gabumon has a sister’,” dragging the words out to maximize their power.

It works admirably well, and it feels like eighty percent of Taichi’s blood floods up to his face in the a split second as he covers his eyes with one hand and all but begs:

“Please stop talking.”

“No, really,” Yamato insists without looking away from the elevator, “it’s an interesting strategy to avoid that dinner.”

“I’m never gonna be able to look your mom in the eyes again,” Taichi half-whines, the heat in his face so bad he almost wants to take his coat off.

“Look at it form the bright side,” Yamato continues, voice ridiculously—and unfairly—steady throughout it all, “at least you know you deserve your crest—it takes a lot of courage to suggest people take up best—”

“Oh my god,” Taichi exclaims, burying his face in his hands, seconds away from puffing smoke out of his ears, “just shut up!”

“Relax,” Yamato says, laughter seeping in at the edge of his voice, “it worked—the families meeting is definitely postponed now.”

Taichi uncovers his face just long enough to smack his friend in the arm—it doesn’t quiet him down, though, just makes him throw his head back in a bark of laughter that could put his grandfather to shame.

“It’s your fault anyway,” Taichi protests, fingers muffling his words, “if you didn’t hate your family so much—”

“I don’t hate them,” Yamato cuts in, tone just firm enough to make Taichi come out of his little hiding place, “it’s not my fault they still want to pretend their divorce never happened.”

“Okay,” Taichi concedes, softening his voice as he knocks his shoulder against Yamato’s, “but if you didn’t put so much effort in keeping us apart I wouldn’t have panicked, and we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Which would be a shame,” Yamato answers, shoulders barely even stiffening as he speaks, “since I’d have missed your face just now.”

Taichi’s face contorts in surprise and mock offense as Yamato snorts in laughter again, and they exchange a few weak punches before the elevator doors ding open in front of them. Taichi pulls his tongue out at Yamato as he steps inside and pushes the ‘close ’ button with a grin threatening to break out on his face. Yamato rolls his eyes at first, then his face contracts and he holds the door back, mouth pinched with the weird kind of solemnity that comes with important topics.

“Do you think we should do this? The dinner, I mean?”

“I...think your granddad wants to know who his grandsons friends are,” Taichi says, thinking of the many times Yamato declined to have dinner with his family when there wasn’t anything actually in the way, “and I think your mom’s just trying to be your mom again.”

“She’s sixteen years too late,” Yamato snaps—Taichi, who sometimes still refers to his parents’ flat as ‘home’, watches him pause, pinch at the bridge of his nose, and take a deep breath before he says: “the old man and her—they think I made a choice, but I didn’t. I was nine!”

“Yamato—”

“Look, I’ve waited thirteen years for them to be my parents again,” Yamato insists—Taichi almost turns away from him when his voice thickens, but Yamato hasn’t tried to hide his wounds from him for years. He’s not about to stop looking at them—“I’m done. I wish I weren’t, but I’m done.”

“Okay,” Taichi says, knowing better than to push the topic.

Neither he nor Yamato are in a state where they can really handle this conversation—years and years of trying to bridge such a defining gap in their understandings of the world has taught them this, at least: family talks never end well unless proper conditions are met.

Standing in a public hallway while they hog the elevator to themselves doesn’t even come close.

“Fine,” Yamato says after a while, wincing when two sharp honks pierce through the air, “let’s do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Taichi reminds his friend but, well.

He knows what the look on Yamato’s face means, and he knows it’d take a severe beating and quite a lot of yelling to change the guy’s mind now.

(He should know, he’s done this before.)

“You’re my best friend,” Yamato starts, and Taichi can’t help but interrupt with:

“Second best friend.”

“Yeah, okay—”

“Or should that be third? Because Sora—”

“Taichi!” Yamato protests as his mother’s car—although, Taichi would bet, not Ms. Takashi herself—honks again, “are you even going to let me finish?”

“Sorry,” Taichi replies, fingers itching to hit the ‘close doors’ button, “go on.”

“You’re my best friend,” Yamato says again, almost like it’s no big deal except for the way his knuckles have grown white as he grasps the elevator threshold and the way his blue eyes won’t let go of Taichi’s, “and I know it matters to you. So let’s do this.”

“Okay,” Taichi replies, too breathless for comfort. Then, when the unexpected moment threatens to stress him out even more: “I can’t believe we’re close enough for you to invite me into your other life.”

“Okay that’s it,” Yamato says, rolling his eyes as he straightens up, “I’m canceling the thing!”

“No, no, no!” Taichi protests, laughter creeping into his voice even as Yamato grunts when someone honks again, “no take backs allowed! I’m officially meeting your parents!”

Yamato’s face grows four shades redder than usual as he all but throws himself away from the elevator, spluttering something indistinct about his father not being invited—no surprise there—and Taichi puts his best grin on as the elevator dings to signal the end of its wait.

“Think of all the embarrassing baby stories I’ll get to hear!” Taichi yells through the closing door, and laughs when Yamato slices a finger across his neck.

{ooo}

“You’re in a good mood,” Agumon remarks when Taichi enters the apartment a few minutes later, “that’s nice!”

“Yeah, it is,” Taichi agrees as he hangs his keys next to the door, “it’s been a while. Where are the others?”

“They phoned earlier,” Agumon explains while Taichi marches to the kitchen and dives into the fridge without waiting—he’s feeling ravenous, and if he’s got to wait for his roommates to come back before he can eat he’s going to need some sustenance—“said they’d be out late and we shouldn’t wait for them.”

“Really?”

Taichi pauses in his exploration of the—empty—quarter of the fridge not devoted to Daisuke’s professional supplies to frown in surprise. Veemon and Daisuke have been coming back from work exhausted every night for a while now—it’s a cause for celebration in that it means their business is doing well, but it also makes the news surprising.

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” Agumon replies—Taichi doesn’t have to see him to know he’s shrugging, and he can’t help but return the gesture, even hidden behind the fridge door.

“Just the two of us then,” he says with a smile, “wanna order some Chinese?”

“You don’t like Chinese food,” Agumon remarks when Taichi straightens up—he blinks, a little owlishly, when their eyes meet, but Taichi shrugs:

“Felt like indulging you. It’s been too long since I did that.”

Agumon doesn’t bounce in place—he’s been doing that less often lately, and while at first Taichi wondered if maybe that was his fault, or at least due to his state of mind, it ‘s starting to look more like one of the little ways in which Agumon ages, too. Instead, Taichi finds himself looking down at interrogative green eyes, Agumon’s head tilting to the side as he works on the question he obviously wants to ask.

“What?”

“You really are in a very good mood,” Agumon says.

He grins, wide and a little smug like he’s figured something out that Taichi hasn’t yet, before he turns around and leaves the kitchen. Taichi blinks after him for a second or two, but then—why be picky? He’s in a good mood, Agumon is in a good mood, there’s no reason to try and dissect the situation, after all.

He smiles, unsurprised, when Agumon suggests walking to the restaurant instead of ordering through the phone.

{ooo}

“How long has it been since we did that? It feel like it’s been ages!”

“It probably has,” Taichi admits.

They’re on their way back, strolling along the semi-empty streets in their matching winter coat—Taichi always thought the identical outfits were a bit too much, but Agumon was so happy when Sora offered to make them he didn’t have the heart to protest. They’ve been doing this for a couple of years now, pulling the thing out of storage every winter, and Taichi is finally getting ready to admit it’s actually little cute, sometimes.

“We have to do that more often,” he says with a contented sigh, “I missed it. It’ll be nice.”

“Oh,” Agumon adds, the familiar bounce back in his step, “we should go with the others too! We can invite Sora and Biyomon for the weekend, and Mimi and Palmon can portal back, and we’d all go to the restaurant together to celebrate Yamato and Gabumon’s visit! Wouldn’t that be nice? We never do that in the human world.”

Taichi pauses at that, trying to picture what the evening would be like—all their friends gathered together like old times, with the same cheap food and the same silly jokes they used to build and maintain their friendships with. This time, the digimons wouldn’t have to pretend they’re toys though. They’d have their own seats and their own plates and their own orders and they’d be able to talk and laugh and joke with the rest of the group, as carefree and loud as decency would allow.

They’d talk about the good old days, jokes about the things they’ve done, the places they’ve been, the friends they met...and none of it would ring a bell for Agumon, or Gabumon, or any of the older ones.

Taichi’s smile falters a little, and Agumon stiffens beside him, sensing the problem before he even really has to guess it—he’s looking for something to say, maybe even a way to change the topic, claws clicking in the air, when Taichi surprises them both by saying:

“Actually, we’ve done it plenty of times before.”

He’s not sure why he said it—it scratches at the corner of his eyes, tightens his throat on the last words, but he doesn’t stop. Keeping his mouth shut about this—about a lot of other things but mostly, he’s come to realize in therapy, about this—hasn’t exactly worked in his favor so far, after all. He might as well keep going.

Besides, he reminds himself as he watches Agumon carefully school his features to dim his curiosity, he’s not the only one who needs to have this conversation.

“There was this coffee shop,” he explains, laying a hand on Agumon’s shoulder and drawing strength from the contact, “we’d meet there when we needed to talk about what needed to be done about the Digiworld, back when Daisuke and the others were called.”

“Why not before that?” Agumon asks with a blink, and Taichi’s lips twist into a half-nostalgic, half-bitter smirk:

“It was different for us. We got pulled into the Digital World—that’s how we know about the tramway.”

“And why not meet at one of your houses?” Agumon continues, quite clearly hanging on to every word.

God, they really should have had this conversation a long time ago.

“Their parents didn’t know digimons existed,” Taichi says with an apologetic shrug, “I mean, my parents and Ms. Takashi knew about you guys, but they were the only ones, and they weren’t too happy about us having to save the world and all. We’d done this alone before—didn’t have a choice the first time around. That time, we just thought the time we’d have to lose trying to explain the situation, to convince Daisuke’s parents, and Iori’s mom, and all the others, that we weren’t crazy—it didn’t seem worth the risk of losing the Digiworld, or having our own parents find out. For the most part we barely even thought of getting the adults involved, though at some point we ended up not having a choice anymore.”

Taichi shrugs again, and puts a lot of effort into not looking away when Agumon nods the eerie silence of late winter falling over them like a thick coat of snow over a sleeping town. Taichi, still gripping Agumon’s shoulder, forces his fingers to relax one by one, and he’s surprised to find the gesture releases a tension in his stomach he was barely aware of, like untying a knot.

Agumon, deep in thought, doesn’t seem to realize what’s going on, so Taichi puts the quiet time to good use and breathes in deep through his nose, exhaling through his mouth and trying to picture the bad feelings—the nightmares, the loss, the sense of something irrevocably missing—exiting his body along with the thick puff of white smoke he blows out into the wind.

After a while, Agumon says:

“Some of the others won’t want to do this, will they?”

“Maybe not,” Taichi agrees, unable to figure out who’s more liable to refuse.

It’s not like they’ve talked about this enough among themselves for him to have a clear idea of what they think or feel on the topic.

“If they do say no,” Agumon continues, hesitating somewhere in the middle, “can the two of us still go? I’d like to see the places where we were together.”

It takes Taichi a few seconds to answer—take a deep breath first, bracing himself against the first, cowardly instinct telling him to say no and run for the hills before he can nod.

“Okay,” he says with a slight tremor in his voice, “let’s do that.”

{ooo}

‘I told Agumon we’d visit our old hangout spots in Odaiba,’ Taichi texts Yamato that night as he lays in bed, stomach too full to sleep.

Agumon, as always, seems entirely impervious to the very concept of over-eating, and he’s already snoring the night away in his hammock, the sound more soothing than it has any real right to be. Taichi tries to focus on it to keep his mind busy—or at least, keep the anxious thoughts at bay—and it works so well his heart skips a beat when his phone vibrates against his chest.

‘any particular reason?’

Taichi glances at his alarm clock and frowns: it’s past midnight here, which means it has to be class time back in Paris. He’s wondering what possessed Yamato to break his self-imposed ‘no texting back unless it’s life or death’ rule, when he remembers Yamato is right there in Japan, probably jet-lagged to hell and unable to sleep as a result.

The thought makes Taichi grin as he types:

‘He said we never did outings with the whole group in the human world. I figured it was time he heard the truth.’

‘Congratulations,’ comes Yamato’s reply, and Taichi muffles a snort in his hand before he asks:

‘What for?’

‘1. Ur the 1st to do it. 2. I know its not easy.’

Taichi snorts, and then sobers up as he admits:

‘I don’t want to do it. Feels like I’m going to lose him again.’

Yamato’s answer is longer in coming this time— Taichi has time to put the phone back down on his chest and stare at Agumon, silhouetted in the dim lights of the city as he shuffles in his hammock. It’s ridiculous, really—he’s right there, and he’s not about to vanish into thin air because he sees a place he doesn’t remember.

Taichi has been down this road before—making new memories, introducing Agumon to the city he grew up in—and it didn’t end very well for him.

‘I think we should all do it,’ Yamato’s next text reads when Taichi thumbs it open , ‘itd be better 4 all of us’

Taichi frowns at his phone and sighs. Yamato is probably right—at the very least, Taichi agrees with him on the most part—but it’s not like either of them can make the rest of the group join the train without upsetting them to frightening degrees. Taichi himself would gladly take his promise back if it didn’t mean hurting Agumon for no reason.

‘Im serious,’ Yamato texts again when Taichi waits too long before he answers, ‘its been 8yrs. Its time we quit making the other walking on eggshells bc they got lucky & we didnt.’

‘I know,’ Taichi answers him, blinking against the sudden brightness of his bedside lamp, breathing wet when he tries to brace himself for the second part of his message: ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.’

He lets the sob that’s been building in his throat slip past his lips, as quiet as he can manage, and clings to his phone until he feels it vibrate between his fingers again. Then he turns the light off—lowers the screen brightness to spare his eyes—and rolls on his side before he reads Yamato’s answer:

‘idk,’ it reads, ‘im not. Uve never backed down so far tho. Don’t think u will now’

Taichi smiles at that, throat tight around the things he’s been clinging to for the past eight years, and it takes him several tries before he manages to type:

‘Are you crying?’

‘shutup’

‘I’m crying.’

It’s not even an exaggeration, although Taichi kind of wishes it were. There’s no point in pretending the contrary though—ignoring the burning trails sliding along his c heeks, ove r his nose and into the pillow as he tries to stay quiet so he won’t wake his partner up won’t make anything disappear.

Outside in the living room, the entrance door clicks open and shut in rapid succession, and the next buzz of Taichi’s phone comes backed up by Daisuke’s voice hissing at Veemon to be quiet.

‘me too,’ Yamato admits.

Taichi smiles at that—wonders how much effort it took for Yamato to type the message, let alone actually hit send. At least it proves he’s not alone in this ridiculous, stupid boat. He still has his best friend by his side, like always—as it always should be, really—and that makes things a little less overwhelming.

‘Do you want to come along?’ He sends, almost without thinking, ‘I think I’m going to need a rehearsal if I want to stay dignified when we do this all together.’

‘of course. wouldnt want 2 damage ur image of fearless leader ;)’

‘You’re a butt.’

‘butt u like me,’ Yamato replies, dragging a snort out of Taichi—he muffles it into his pillow, cheeks aching with an abrupt grin, but Agumon still stirs in his sleep.

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ he tells Yamato ‘Agumon is going to wake up.’

‘sry. When do u wanna go?’

‘Ideally, tomorrow, but my schedule is full so....Tuesday?’

‘can’t thats when Papy wants to invite u guys. Ur dad already said yes.’

‘Fine,’ Taichi replies, shrugging as he types, ‘Wednesday then?’

‘ok’

‘Good. See you Tuesday then. Now go to sleep.’

‘yes mom’

Taichi takes a picture of him pulling his tongue out—between the excessive contrast, his puffy face, and the weird angle, it looks bad enough that Hikari would probably gasp in horror at the sight of it, but it makes Taichi laugh, so he sends it anyway.

He gets a little heart in response, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t make his stomach flutter a little.

{ooo}

Taichi emerges from his bedroom at ten past six the next day, bleary-eyed and wishing he could go back to sleep with every fiber of his being. There are classes to attend though, official business to pay attention to, and he’s so focused on not being late he almost doesn’t notice Daisuke, tying his shoelaces in front of the door.

“You’re late,” Taichi yawns, one hand scrapping at his scalp while the other covers his mouth, “you’re never late.”

“We stayed out late last night,” Daisuke says around a mouthful of what looks like an onigiri.

Taichi almost remarks midnight hasn’t been a very late hour since Daisuke started working in the food industry, but that would mean admitting he was awake at the time, too, and he doesn’t want to do that.

“Oh,” he says instead, “did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah, we were with—” Daisuke falters a little, swallows the last of his food with an audible gulp as he stares up at Taichi and finishes: “uh, a friend.”

“Good for you,” Taichi tells him with a smile.

He pads through the living room and into the kitchen then, navigating by smell more than sight until he’s more or less sticking his nose into the mug Agumon fixed for him and left on the table. The smell of dried leaves fill Taichi’s nostrils, bringing a gust of wakefulness into his brain, and he sighs. That’s a good way to start the day.

Taichi rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and he’s reaching for the rice cooker, hoping to make something appetizing out of the leftovers, when Daisuke clears his throat in the kitchen doorway. Taichi stares at him—at the way Veemon presses close to his knees, at his shoes, which he hasn’t bothered taking off before he walked back inside.

“I was with Akiko,” Daisuke says with a small, almost unnoticeable shift of his weight, “you know, the girl—”

“Yes,” Taichi agrees, aware he’s cutting Daisuke off but too eager to dispel the awkwardness to act otherwise, “I remember.”

“Oh. Good,” Daisuke says, “well, I was—we were with her, and it kinda—that was sort of a date?”

Taichi smiles at the news, pleased—and maybe a tiny bit relieved, too—that he doesn’t have to put any effort into it.

“I’m glad for you,” he says, and chuckles when Daisuke’s surprised blink turns into a frown.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Taichi promises, reminding himself it’s his fault Daisuke is acting skeptical now, “I gave you terrible advice last time—and not all of it came from a good place either.”

Both he and Daisuke color at the reminder, but honestly, Taichi should be the embarrassed one, here.

“This time, you’re making your decisions on your own, and I finally have the brains to be happy for you instead of an over possessive ass.”

“You kind of were,” Daisuke says with a rueful smile, “but I’m glad you’re happy.”

Veemon whoops, prompting Taichi and Agumon to laugh at him a little, and then Agumon all but chases their roommates out of the door before they get really late and start disappointing their g rowing crowds of re g ul ars. Taichi and Agumon settle at the table in silence, Taichi humming under his breath as he goes, and Agumon grins.

“You’re in a good mood again,” he says while he settles leftover chicken and a couple of eggs between their two bowls.

“I am,” Taichi agrees.

“Even though we’re going to visit Odaiba tomorrow?”

Taichi feels his smile falter as he looks at his partner. It’s not that the good mood has vanished, per se—but the topic at hand would put a damper on most conversations, he’s pretty sure. He takes a sip of his tea, mostly to give himself time before he has to speak—and says:

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it tomorrow. Yamato’s grandfather wants to have dinner with us,” he explains when Agumon’s features shift from caution to betrayed surprise, “we’re invited at Ms. Takashi’s place tomorrow night. Do you mind a lot if we do this Wednesday? I can shift my meetings around so I’ll be done earlier.”

“Oh,” Agumon says with obvious relief, “no, that’s okay! I’m sure dinner with Yamato’s family will be enough for one day.”

“That’s what I figured,” Taichi agrees with a nervous chuckle. He sips at his tea again before he asks: “and, uh...do you mind if Yamato and Gabumon come along? I��m not sure they will—I don’t know if Gabumon has agreed yet—but I’d like to have some support there while we do this, if you don’t mind?”

“Okay,” Agumon agrees, relief turning into a little smile, “I think I could use a friend there, too.”

Taichi nods, sort of wishing they could invite Tentomon along, if only for Agumon’s sake—they are, after all, closer than Agumon and Gabumon are—but if he’s being honest, this isn’t a moment he’s comfortable sharing with anyone other than Yamato. Not even Noeru.

{ooo}

Dinner at Ms. Takashi’s turns out to be about as awkward as Taichi anticipated—more so, even, when the picture albums got taken out of their shelves, and the rarefaction of Yamato’s face as the years went by was impossible to miss—and Taichi comes out of it kind of wishing he could just erase it from his memory.

There’s no real disaster to mourn for though—awkward silences and one moment where Taichi kind of thought Yamato would manage to pick up a fight with his mother right then and there about cooking, of all things—and Yamato’s chuckle when Taichi remarks as much is short, filled with nerves and things he probably thought but didn’t say.

“Yeah. Could have been worse,” he admits, running a hand in his hair, “remind me to send something nice to your sister—I think she single-handedly saved the day there.”

That, in Taichi’s opinion, was more of a collective effort—between Mr. Takashi, Takeru, and Taichi’s family, the whole thing managed to end on an awkward, but ultimately not really harmful note, which is probably the best they could have hoped for. Yamato won’t be the only one sending baskets around in the upcoming days, but he knows better than to say that.

“So,” he says instead of voicing the thought, forcing his tone to remain light and vaguely unconcerned, “do I have to come in or can I trust you not to fight with your father?”

“I don’t think he’s here,” Gabumon replies from where he’s unlocking the door already, “no need to be worried.”

“I don’t fight with him,” Yamato retorts with a playful shove at Gabumon’s head, “you can’t fight with someone you don’t talk to.”

Taichi shrugs, not quite acquiescence, not quite apology, and gives Yamato a playful punch in the shoulder.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Yamato sighs, tired fondness filling his smile, “thanks for sticking around for a bit.”

“No problem,” Taichi says without even needing to think about it, “see you tomorrow?”

“Four PM,” Yamato replies with a nod, “we’ll be there.”

{ooo}

When they reach the newly renamed DigiCafe on Wednesday, mist clings at the edge of the windows, almost masking the digimon-friendly announcements—‘We provide adapted seats!’ one of the signs proclaims, while another shows a cartoonish Biyomon swirling in a specially-made Kimono Taichi recognizes as Sora’s design, and announces the existence of a fashion corner somewhere at the back of the cafe. Taichi smiles into his thick scarf at the sight.

“I knew she had a partnership with a coffee shop,” he remarks to Agumon, who stands shivering beside him, “but I didn’t know she meant this one.”

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” Agumon asks, and Taichi shrugs.

It doesn’t really matter whether Sora chose this specific shop for their history with it, after all, so long as her work gets the success it deserves. Agumon doesn’t seem too bothered by Taichi’s lack of curiosity, though, as he turns back to the window and stick his nose to it, trying to see what’s going on inside. Taichi rolls his eyes at him with a little chuckle, glances at his watch—almost five past four already—and grins when he finally spots Yamato and Gabumon walking up the street.

“Finally!” He calls out, purposefully exaggerating the impatience in his voice, “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get there!”

“It’s barely been five minutes,” Yamato protests while Gabumon, after a perfunctory greeting for Taichi, goes to look through the windows alongside Agumon, “calm down.”

“You’re right,” Taichi agrees with mock solemnity, “by your standards you’re positively early.”

Yamato grimaces, shoving at Taichi’s shoulder without malice, and Taichi snorts a little before he suggests they step inside.

“I don’t know how you can stand the weather dressed like this,” he says, gesturing at Yamato’s open jacket over a thin woolen jumper, “but some of us are non-furred reptiles.”

“It’s below zero in Paris these days,” Yamato shrugs as he nods and holds the door open for the others to step through, “makes six degrees feel toasty.”

Inside, the shop is peppered with pink and red hearts in preparation for Valentine’s day, and Taichi pauses on the welcome mat to take it all in. The walls have changed colors, and the counter was replaced at some point in the past eight years, but the tables are the same, and the large booth they used to sit in is still there at the back, framed by digimon-oriented fashion instead of potted plants. A couple of customers come in behind them, shuffling around their little group to find tables to sit at and casting curious glances at them.

“Am I the only one who feels like we’re making a bit of a scene?” Yamato asks, and Taichi shrugs.

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less. We’ve earned it.”

Yamato snorts at that, but he knocks their shoulders together, and Taichi smiles. They have earned this moment. They’ve spent so many hours there, as children and as teenagers—emergency meeting, worried and tense, where the digimon had to pretend to be plush toys between two sentences, but more simple times too. How many times did they gather here here to talk about the things they’d seen, the things they’d done, the things they couldn’t tell anyone else about?

Mimi cried her heart out here, on the verge of moving to America, knowing she’d have to miss everyone else on top of Palmon. Takeru banged his fist against the wood when they tried to tell him his obsession with angels had gone too far. They’ve all cried and laughed and argued here, so much of their lives left between the walls they all knew the staff by heart by the time they had to go through with the Reboot.

They’d planned on taking Meiko here, too—not just the crisis meetings she’d seen since entering the group, but a proper group outing. They’d been tossing ideas around for ways to bring her more fully into their little family—simple, gentle pranks they could play on her to mark her arrival properly...but of course, those never came to pass .

The Reboot happened. Mimi left for the U.S. again. Yamato got accepted in the exchange program for Moscow. Sora started thinking about Kyoto for her superior studies. Before they knew it—before anyone had time to blink—they scattered around Tokyo—around the world—and forgot about their plans for Meiko’s welcome, too caught up in a grief she understood but didn’t quite share.

“I think it’s time we sat down,” Yamato says after a long silence—Taichi jumps a little, but he nods anyway

He ignores the new, pastel-green paint on the walls, glances at the chocolate- colored couches without seeing them, and breathes through the longing in his chest when they sit down together, the whole scene missing at least twelve protagonists to be considered complete. The coat stand that spared their group countless questions and awkward moment is still there—the chip in one of the tables, too, under its fresh coat of brown paint—and the waitress who walks up to their table looks painfully familiar, even though Taichi can’t seem to remember her name.

He orders whatever Yamato is having, brain too full with statics to pay any kind of attention to something as trivial as a drink, and blinks a couple of time to try and clear his head. It doesn’t work.

“They changed it,” Yamato remarks—Taichi blinks in confusion, until he realizes his friend is talking about the coat stand.

The bottom of it, more specifically, is brand new—the owners must have gotten the same model then. Taichi smiles—chuckles, even, and says:

“You can hardly blame them.”

“Why’s that?” Gabumon asks, abandoning what seemed to be a rather thorough observation of the street outside the window, “what happened?”

“Tokomon chewed through it once,” Yamato replies with a little smile—on Taichi’s left, Agumon laughs at the thought, and Taichi rolls his eyes.

“Laugh all you want,” he tells his partner, “one time I had to pull you off a hat because you though the fruits on it were real.”

This time it’s Gabumon who snorts, muffling the sound behind his hand while Agumon reddens, expression more sheepish than the situation really requires. They have, after all, had moments here that were far more delicate than that. At least with the coat rack, all they had to do was act surprised and ask if anyone had come in with a dog.

Agumon laughs when Taichi tells him as much and, before long, he and Gabumon start asking questions one after the other, so fast it’s like they’re afraid they won’t have time for them all—which, is Taichi is being honest, is partially his and Yamato’s fault for being so tight lipped. There’s no resentment in their attitude though, no re strained anger that Taichi can sense, and that, more than anything else, soothes his nerves. He speaks more freely after that—slips into the enthusiasm of the moment, recalling one story after the other, laughing at the anecdotes he hasn’t heard yet and, for the first time in nearly nine years, smiles when he thinks of the things that happened before.

In many ways, it’s a bit like going back to the Digital World and visiting the places he used to know—like taking Agumon home after the Reboot happened and they learned how to be friends again: same as it was before, except for the parts where it’s not. It doesn’t hurt as much this time around.

“Shit,” Yamato exclaims later on, while Taichi is in the middle of telling their partners about their first meeting with Frigimon, and how he couldn’t feel his butts for hours afterwards, “I think they’re closing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Taichi replies with a roll of his eyes, “they’re open until seven.”

Yamato’s wrist all but knocks him in the nose as he shoves his watch under Taichi’s nose, and Taichi can’t help but pull a surprised grimace when he sees the time. So, maybe he got a little lost in the moment there, because he really didn’t notice it was so late.

Then again, who could blame him? He hasn’t been in the same room as Yamato in ages—excepting Ms. Takashi’s dinner, that is, but that was nowhere near as comfortable as this afternoon has been—hasn’t talked about all these things in years, and he’d almost forgotten how fun it can be to spend time with his best friend.

He muses about this as they pay for their teas and bicker about who should pay the bill, since Yamato ended up drinking both cups of teas—‘next time just pay attention to what you’re ordering, dummy.’ ‘why do I even put up with you?’—and while they get dressed to face the cold. They’re about to says goodbye when Taichi blurts:

“Wanna go get dinner?”

Agumon whoops in assent, and Gabumon approves with a large smile—at that point, Taichi knows, Yamato doesn’t really have a choice anymore, but he doesn’t look bothered in the least when he agrees. Taichi might grin a little too hard at that, but hey, this is Yamato. If he can’t be a bit a of a weirdo with his best friend, he’ll never manage it, will he?

“Can we got to that ramen place Veemon keeps talking about?” Agumon asks with a hopeful look, “it sounds delicious, and I’ve always wanted to go but—”

“Only if they do takeaway,” Yamato warns with a sigh, scratching at Gabumon’s head, “I think I’ve had enough emotions for today.”

“Yeah,” Taichi agrees, “plus it’d make things awkward if they remembered your date with Jun.”

“You went on a date with Jun?” Agumon asks, the volume of his voice raisin with his surprise, “really?”

“As in, Daisuke’s sister?”

“That was before I knew I was gay,” Yamato replies with a long glare at Taichi, “and she forced my hand!”

“Yeah, she was kind of weird back then,” Taichi agrees, smile turning a little uneasy at the memory.

He laughed at it in the moment, but looking back, if he’d been the one actively pursued by a girl three years older than him at fourteen, he probably wouldn’t have liked it either.

“She grew out of it,” Yamato shrugs, “but there’s a reason we’re still not close.”

Taichi chuckles again and knocks their shoulders together as they make their way down the street—he’s surprised to feel something grab his leg a minute later, and even more so when he realize Agumon grabbed a hold of both his and Yamato’s knees, hugging them to his chest in a way that forces them to lean on each other to avoid an awkward fall.

“Thank you for doing this!” he exclaims, Gabumon fishing a smartphone from inside his fur so he can snap a picture, “It’s just like old times!”

“I don’t think we ever went for tea together though,” Yamato points out, patting awkwardly at Agumon’s head, “when we went out it was mostly as a group.”

“Yeah,” Taichi agrees, squeezing at Gabumon’s shoulder just to make sure he doesn’t feel left out, “we used to hang out at the soccer field or in Yamato’s band’s practice room, most of the time. Or at home.”

“Oh, great!” Gabumon exclaims with undisguised delight, “that means this is both old and new, right? The same, but different.”

Agumon takes a shine to the idea before Yamato is even done nodding, and the two digimons end up chattering about it all the way to the restaurant, Taichi and Yamato looking at them like they’re proud parents realizing their children are all grown up. It may not be the best metaphor, considering the fact that they’re supposed to have an equal partnership with their digimons, but the sense of affectionate pride inherent to the idea is definitely something Taichi feels right now, and he can’t help but look over at Yamato, just to know if he’s grinning like an idiot, too.

(He definitely is.)

“So,” Taichi says after they’ve exchanged gently-mocking grimaces and red-faced grins, “that was actually pretty nice.”

They’re nearing the restaurant now, the smell of noodle soup strong enough that Agumon has his nose in the air already, and Taichi slows down a little, unwilling to let the evening end just now. Yamato, matching his pace, chews on his bottom lip—Taichi sees his jaw working from the corner of his eyes—before he asks:

“Wanna come have dinner with us? My place is closer than yours.”

Taichi agrees with a large smile—he’s not sure how obvious his relief is when Agumon doesn’t seem opposed to the idea—and decides to enjoy the way his stomach contracts when Yamato all but beams in response.

(He’s pretty sure no one else in the world realizes how much Yamato can smile, given the proper circumstances, and the thought doesn’t do anything to settle his heartbeat.)

{ooo}

“Okay,” Taichi yawns when he realizes Mr. Ishida’s clock reads eleven, “I know I’ve said this before, but I really have to go now.”

Agumon perks up at this, and starts gathering the takeaway boxes before Yamato can actually say anything—Taichi watches his friend’s nose wrinkle a little bit in embarrassment, same as it has for as long as Taichi can remember, and they sigh with almost comical synchronization. Neither of them moves until Agumon comes back from his first trip to the trash can though, steps carefully quiet so he doesn’t wake up Gabumon, who went to sleep almost an hour ago now.

Soon enough, there’s nothing left for Taichi to do but gather his things, wrap himself into his coat again, and let Yamato hold the door for him as he exits the flat. He steps out on the landing, presses the call button for the elevator with Agumon leaning against his knee—from the look of it, he’s almost ready to fall asleep where he stands, and regret prickles at Taichi’s gut at the thought.

Then he realizes Yamato followed him outside, and he chuckles:

“Are you going to walk me home? Because we might be starting an infinite loop here.”

“I’m just being polite, dum dum,” Yamato deadpans with a roll of his eyes, but Taichi decides not to take the hint:

“Right,” he teases, “just admit you can’t get enough of me. It’s embarrassing for you but I’ll be nice about it, promise.”

“Yeah,” Yamato replies with a small eye-roll, “I don’t want tonight to end, so I’m delaying as much as I can.”

Taichi’s stomach does a little flip at that, and for a second there he almost calls the whole thing off—almost asks if he can stay the night and roll a mattress out for Agumon. The elevator door pings open at that moment though, sta rtli ng him a little, and when Agumon steps into the cabin on autopilot, Taichi gestures at it with a little wave:

“My ride’s here,” he says, awkwardness heating his cheeks up the longer he stays, “so I’ll just—”

“’Course,” Yamato replies with a nod, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Goodnight.”

Taichi waves goodbye in turn, maintaining eye-contact until the doors close between Yamato and him, and then he sighs, vague disappointment niggling at his stomach before he even manages to process it.

“That was a good evening,” Agumon mumbles at him—he’s resting his cheek on Taichi’s knee again, so the words come a bit slurred when he adds: “’m glad it’s over though. ‘M tired.”

“Yeah,” Taichi admits with a smile, “it’s late.”

Today was an excellent day as it is—no need to focus on the things he couldn’t have.

Taichi and Agumon wait in companionable silence until their reach the ground floor and the doors let out a little ping before they open. Taichi readjusts his scarf, steps out of the elevator cabin, and he’s just about to push the hallway door open when the sound of naked feet clatters down the staircase.

Turning around, Taichi is surprised to find Yamato there—red-faced and maybe a little embarrassed as he jogs through the hallway at a more sedated pace to stand in front of Taichi. Beside him, Agumon makes a sleepy noise of protest, but Taichi is too busy trying not to smile like a gigantic idiot to pay attention to that—he does make a mental note to do something nice for his partner later, but he’d be lying if he said his consideration went any further than that.

“So,” Yamato pants, wiping sweat off his forehead, “I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t want the evening to end.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Taichi answers.

He pauses, swallows in a futile attempt to settle his stomach—his heart, the delightful shiver in his fingers—as he tries to sort his words out but Yamato, as has often been the case, beats him to it:

“Also,” he says, redder than before, shoulders stiff like he’s bracing himself for something unpleasant, “I kind of—I really wanted to kiss you up there.”

Taichi has heard about face-splitting grins before—thought he’d sported some himself, once or twice—but right now he’s pretty sure he’s never smiled this hard in his life. He’s pretty sure he looks manic—he definitely looks like a manic idiot.

He couldn’t care less about it.

“That’s good,” he says, turning a little breathless when the fluttering in his chest solidifies into something easier to identify, “’cause I wanted you to.”

Then, because Yamato looks a little too surprised—relieved, delighted—to do anything about it, and because Taichi is supposed to have the crest of courage, dammit, he stands up on his toes, laces a hand behind Yamato’s neck, and brings their mouths together.

There’s a blank in his head at first, as his brain fills with a thousand variations of ‘nice’, with maybe a little bit of ‘finally’ thrown in for good measure, even though he hasn’t been aware he was waiting for this until a few minutes ago. Then his brain adjusts a little and his senses come back, one by one—he registers the tingling of his mouth, almost unbearable where Yamato’s lips barely touch his, the way Yamato’s hair tingles against his fingers wher e it s lips out of a loose topknot...and then Yamato’s hands, slipping from his waist to his back, strong arms pulling him into a hug and lifting him off the ground when Yamato straightens to his full height.

It takes them a while to pull away from one another—first there’s a graze of teeth on lips, then tongues, then sighs—but eventually Yamato’s arms kind of give out, and Taichi falls back to the ground with a little thump and a gigantic, probably very ridiculous grin on his face.

“So,” he manages after a few seconds of stunned silence where he and Yamato kind of just...stare at each other, like they haven’t seen each other’s face a thousand times, “I vote we go back upstairs and put your couch to good use.”

Yamato stiffens at the words, and for the most horrifying second of the past eight years, Taichi thinks he’s said exactly the wrong thing and ruined everything.

“Okay,” Yamato says when he notices Taichi’s frown, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t talking about sex, but on the off chance that you were—”

“What? Oh, no!” Taichi promises, fear slipping out of him in a bout of laughter, “no, definitely not. I mean, it’s definitely something I’ll think about in the future—” Yamato rolls his eyes at that, and Taichi swats him on the arm, pleased to notice they haven’t broken their embrace, even with the abrupt change of topic, “but for tonight I really just want to make out. A lot.”

“And you couldn’t say that before we left?”

Taichi and Yamato both jump at the words, and Yamato bursts in nervous laughter, hiding his face behind his hands while Agumon looks up at the ceiling like he’s going to find some patience just hanging there, ripe for the taking. Taichi wishes he could stop laughing, if only for Agumon’s sake, but he’s too giddy for it, so he picks up the digimon in his arms instead, and promises him a comfortable bed as soon as they get back upstairs.

He’s spent many a comfortable night on Yamato’s spare mattress, after all, and he’s got a feeling he won’t be using it tonight.

{ooo}

“Sorry about the back and forth,” Taichi tells Agumon while they wait for Yamato to pull the futon out, “I promise I didn’t plan for this.”

“I hope not,” Agumon grumbles, sleep already laced through his voice.

He keeps the annoyed facade for all of thirty seconds, before he asks:

“Does that mean you and Yamato are dating now?”

“No,” Taichi replies without hesitation, “it just means we wanna make out, and we will.”

“Same as before, but different?” Agumon asks, and Taichi nods.

“Yeah, basically.”

Agumon gives Taichi a very serious look then—it’s a little hard not to chuckle with nerves, but Taichi manages fairly well, until Agumon says:

“Humans are weird.”

Taichi watches his partner glare at Yamato when the declaration makes him laugh, then cross his arms together and say:

“You’re lucky you make him happy.”

Taichi barely manages to restrain his laughter long enough for Agumon to step into Yamato’s bedroom with a haughty air and click the door shut behind him.

“Okay,” Taichi huffs once he and Yamato get their breathing back, “I have no idea where that came from.”

“Oh, really?” Yamato snorts, “Because I remember you telling Takeru something along those lines when he and Hikari told you about their relationship.”

Taichi has no memory of that, but it sounds far too plausible for him to dare protesting, anyway.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he promises instead, “just because I behaved like a stupid butt doesn’t mean he should do the same.”

“Don’t bother,” Yamato replies with a smile and an easy shrug as he walks back to the couch, “I’m glad there’s someone else out there to protect you.”

Taichi swallows a smile and a nervous chuckle, forcing his face into the closest approximation of calm indignation he can manage. It doesn’t work, of course—the grin pressing at his lips is too strong to stay off for long, for once, and even without that, Yamato probably knows him well enough to call his bluff anyway. No point in persevering.

Still smiling, Taichi scoots closer to Yamato, angling his legs so their knees are touching, and gives Yamato a playful nudge.

“So,” he says without managing to keep the goof out of his voice, “about this kissing thing—”

“At the risk of ruining the mood,” Yamato cuts in, grimacing an apology around the words, “I have to ask: why did you tell Agumon we weren’t dating?”

His neck turns red as he speaks, and Taichi blinks at the sight for a second before he realizes what’s going on, and grabs Yamato’s hand.

“It’s not because this is a one time thing!” he promises, pressing Yamato’s fingers between his, “I don’t want it to be a one time thing—I want it to be a many, many times thing. All the time thing, if possible.”

Yamato snorts, posture relaxing at Taichi’s silliness, and Taichi smiles with relief as he continues:

“It’s just—I know you’ve got issues about the whole...letting people know thing. About dating. And, I’m not gonna lie, I’d love to share the joy with everyone else, but I also want you to no freak out, a lot more than I want other people to know what’s going on in my life. So, unless you’re ready—really ready, don’t say yes because you think that’s what I want to hear—to put it all out in the open, I’d rather keep this between us. It’s not like the others really need to know anyway.”

Yamato snorts and rolls his eyes, but moisture clings at his eyelashes when his thumb brushes against Taichi’s, fond smile seemingly settled there for a long while to come.

“Same old, same old, then?” He asks, gentle sarcasm struggling to come through his grin.

“Except there’s gonna be kissing,” Taichi points out, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, “lots of it, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You sound like a horny teenager,” Yamato says with a roll of his eyes.

He does lean in for a kiss, though.

{ooo}

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Taichi whispers several hours later, when they’ve changed into something closer to pajamas and slipped into Yamato’s bed.

He stares at the back of Yamato’s head as he speaks—the blond of his hair turned almost silver by the strips of moonlight filtering int—and he’s half expecting something like ‘you mean another one?’ come out. Instead, Yamato keeps his back to Taichi to yawn into his pillow:

“I was never interested in Daisuke.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” Taichi says.

He watches Yamato’s shirt shift when he snorts:

“Liar.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to ask that first,” Taichi amends with a fond grin, “I’m just wondering—how long have you been wanting to do this?”

Taichi hears Yamato take a deep breath before he wriggles around and brings then face to face, the darkness swallowing his features until only the glint of his eyes remain.

“Wanna know the truth?”

“Nothing less from you,” Taichi says, copying Yamato’s serious tone and reaching up to fit their hands together, “you know that.”

“I’ve been thinking about it on and off since I figured out I was gay.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?”

Agumon stirs and shifts in his sleep at the words, but in Taichi’s defense he did just discover he and Yamato could have been making out—and more—for years now. Given how pleasant the whole experience has been so far, he’s pretty sure he can be excused for his belated offense. Somewhat.

“Well, obviously I wasn’t ready,” Yamato replies with a shrug.

Taichi nods—he did more or less witness the whole process, after all.

“But also—we lived on different continents, we had different goals...I mean, I’m working toward a job that’ll take me off planet for months—”

“That’s a really stupid reason for not saying anything,” Taichi points out, and gets a swat on the shoulder for his trouble.

“I never said it was smart,” Yamato replies, sounding very much like he’s rolling his eyes, “’sides, those weren’t my only reasons. I didn’t want to risk freaking out and ruining our friendship—”

“You know it���d take a lot more than that, right?” Taichi asks, finding Yamato’s free hand with his own, “Unless you somehow, I don’t know, hurt or kill Hikari, you’re stuck with me forever.”

“That’s what I figured out, eventually,” Yamato replies with a chuckle—he surprises Taichi by bringing their linked hands to his chest before he continues: “you got sick around that time though, and I figured—depression makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. You get better eventually, and when you think back on it you look at some of your decisions and think ‘what the fuck was I even thinking back then’, you know?”

“Like when you....”

Taichi lets his voice trail off, unsure what words to use, and tugs at Yamato’s wrists instead.

“Yeah, like that,” Yamato admits, head shifting as he lowers his gaze. “Or like when you tried matchmaking.”

“Urgh,” Taichi grunts with a disgusted grimace, “too soon.”

Yamato laughs at that, muffled and quiet to let their digimons sleep, but he wriggles closer in the same movement, and he plants a light kiss on Taichi’s knuckles, which may or may not short-circuit his brain for a second.

“I just didn’t want you to look back on this—on us—and wonder what went through your head when we started.”

There’s a brief silence, which Taichi doesn’t quite know how to break, before Yamato adds:

“I mean, maybe we’ll still end up fighting and not wanting to talk to each other ever again someday, there’s no way to know—but at least now I’m reasonably sure it’ll be us fighting, not me and your sick brain.”

Taichi considers being a little offended by that—he must have learned some form of lesson from the past few months, though, because he nods instead. It’s not like he hasn’t let his sick brain get the better of him yet.

{ooo}

On Thursday, Taichi wakes up at half past eleven with his face pressed into Yamato’ s green pillow, a nd not even a trace of self-consciousness appears when he breathes the smell of it in. He’s slept in this room dozens of times, has had all the occasions in the world to memorize the way it smells in the morning—but, like depression, going from best friends to best-friends-who-kiss must rewrite brain chemistry because Taichi could swear it was never as pleasant as it is now.

He grins a little at the though, and takes the time to stretch each of his limbs into wakefulness before he even attempts to sit. He’s already missed all his classes for today anyway, and he rescheduled his therapy appointme nt just in case their trip through memory lane left him too depressed to function...he might as well enjoy the change of plans.

Taichi leaves the room with a quick cursory glance— Agumon is still snoring the morning away, but the others are gone—and makes his way to the kitchen. He finds Gabumon there, shaping rice into onigiri while Yamato fiddl e s with the electric kettle and a box of tea leaves. Taichi takes a mome nt to appreciate the way Yamato’s clean pair of jeans hug his butt before h e leans against the threshold, crossing his legs just in case wearing only boxer shorts prove to be an advantage.

“Hey, science side of the room,” he yawns, “can you explain why your sweat-soaked pillow suddenly started smelling good this morning?”

“It’s because you’re a gross-ass sap,” Yamato tosses over his shoulder.

Taichi snorts at that and, since Yamato’s refusal to turn around makes his posing useless, he goes to sit at the table and help Gabum on out with t he onigiri. He’s not surprised when Gabumon levels him with a long, speculative look—Yamato may be the most secretive person ever created, even he has his limits—before he says:

“I’m glad you guys are happy.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re kissing friend now,” Agumon yawns as he waddles into the room, nostrils shivering toward the counter, “humans like kisses.”

“Kisses are nice,” Gabumon agrees with a little shrug as he goes back to his work, “sometimes Yamato kisses me when we have different schedules. I like it.”

“Really?” Taichi asks, glancing up at where Yamato is trying very hard to set up the teacups in a casual way, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not the same kind of kissing,” Yamato says as he turns back to the counter, “and you know it.”

“No, no, please,” Taichi insists with a little wave at Gabumon, halfway to laughter already, “tell me more, Gabumon. Does Takeru kiss you too or is it just Yamato?”

“You’re an ass, Taichi,” Yamato protests, without heat, and Gabumon blinks between them in obvious confusion.

“Well, like Yamato said,” he starts, darting a glance to Agumon, who shrugs in the corner of Taichi’s vision, “it’s different—Takeru doesn’t do it because he lives here and Yamato uses a French kiss—”

Taichi bursts out laughing seconds before his lips touch his teacup, smearing hot tea all over his fingers and the table—he’d feel a little guiltier about it if Yamato hadn’t slapped both his hands over his mouth, neck cherry red where he’s bent at the waist, shoulders shaking. Taichi, bent in half over the table, laughs so hard he almost chokes on his own spit, tears streaming down his cheeks even as Gabumon says:

“I’ve said something weird, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay,” Yamato replies, voice still thick with laughter, “Taichi can explain.”

“What?” Taichi protests, sobering up in record time, “why me?”

“’Cause that’s what I’d have said if we’d had this conversation yesterday,” Yamato smirks.

It’s not wrong, but Taichi still pouts about it until Yamato bends down for a proper morning kiss.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 865

A Joint Thing

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Stop. You don’t even have to give the speech. I don’t want to talk about it. Tomorrow, yes. Not now.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to send hay and grain for the horses and livestock affected by the hurricane in Texas. The flooding is so bad. Did you eat? I had a strip steak because I was starving. I got one for you too though. If you want it. It only takes a few minutes on the grill.”

I want 20 things and none are a strip steak, no matter how superbly she could probably cook it, André rued after Christina nodded at the mostly empty plate beside her Macbook in the study. There was one piece of broccoli left on it alongside some discarded fat. It was Saturday night, and he just got home from the match, and he pretty much hated everything until that very moment. How sweet is she. Does her two hours at the stadium to see me play like the Invisible Man for 55 minutes and then makes herself dinner for one, to eat while she works on helping abandoned or homeless animals. And she has that face like her mind is going hundreds of kilometers a minute to figure out what to do or say to me to erase that I am currently useless on the football pitch and hurt all the time.

“I had dinner in the ice bath. Who are we helping? One organization or a bunch of little ones?” The player walked the rest of the way into the cozy study decorated primarily with books, and pushed the back of his chair from one side of the partners’ desk to the other so that he could sit beside his girl and see what was on her screen. She slid over a bit to her left, and then leaned back over to the right to kiss his cheek. If not for the distraction of the coverage of the hurricane drowning greater Houston under an unprecedented tonnage of water, Christina would have been totally consumed by her sympathy for her partner and his frustrating struggle to show his quality and worth at the Westfalenstadion. He was simply a body to bounce the ball off now and then during his minutes that evening. The whole team was rather slow on the ball, and one-dimensional. André couldn’t make or take any chances, and he seldom even had the opportunity for nice interplay with his black and yellow teammates. The three points were secured for the home side, and their #21 didn’t do anything costly or embarrassing, so it wasn’t a complete loss, but he looked and felt irrelevant and disappointing. His girl wished she knew how to help him turn it on again, or even just how to get on the right path to it. Injuries and good form by others meant it had been nearly a year since he enjoyed an uninterrupted spell in which to build and flourish. His struggle was breaking her heart, and demolishing his spirit. Her instinct was to make him talk about it instead of brush it off for “tomorrow”, but she knew what it was like to be in his shoes too, and knew he needed a cool-down period before it was worth encouraging him to share his burden with her.

“That’s what I’m trying to decide. The ASPCA is doing a lot but I’m not sure if they’re doing livestock or just pets. USEF has a fund going just for horses. I’m looking for, like, if some group is taking in otherwise homeless horses and caring for them while their owners can’t. I’d like to send supplies. I don’t like just giving money to those big groups because I don’t know how much of it actually helps the animals, or how long it takes.” The horsewoman moved her dinner plate aside so that she could lean on her elbow on the desk and sigh while André scrolled through the pictures she found on Twitter.

“Why don’t you make a post saying that you’d like to help, and see who responds? It shouldn’t be too hard to verify and not get scammed. Your Twitter has a big reach,” he reminded her. “I’m sure people will tell you who is doing what.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m going to need someone who knows what’s going on and where I can even get hay and grain sent from, and how to get it to whoever needs it. I emailed someone I know at USEF to find out what they can tell me. I’ll wait to post until I hear back from her. Hey, are you sure you don’t want anything?” Christina watched him watch a rescue video on the screen, and reached for his fuzzy cheek with the back of her hand. He turned and offered a small but reassuring smile.

“We had pasta and chicken. I’m not hungry, Prinzessin.”

“Do you want anything else? Couch? Bed? Fire pit? Movie downstairs?”

“Didn’t you want to begin your Game of Thrones education tonight?” the footballer yawned.

“Yes but actually I want to save that for tomorrow because it’s supposed to rain aaaaalllllllll day and Lukas has a playdate at Nuri’s- all the kids do- I think it’s someone’s birthday but I forget- and so it’s the perfect afternoon for us to get embedded on the couch and watch a bunch of episodes at once. I even made watermelon salsa for the whole grain tortilla chips.” Christina blinked at him with big, round, welcoming blue eyes, and just that little hint of hopefulness in them- her hope for him to be into her plans- was enough to help him feel just that little bit better about everything. Instead of expressing excitement about her Sunday agenda, he decided to tease her.

“You’re sending him to a birthday without a gift?” he asked with mock incredulity.

“Tugba only just told me about it at the game!”

“Did you get to tuck him in?”

“No,” she frowned. “Espen said he watched most of the match though. He made you something today,” Lukas’ mom smiled back. “It’s upstairs. Want to see?”

His dad nodded and followed her to the master bath, to check out the little platinum blonde’s art project. It all started when Espen arrived for work with a tie-dye kit and some cheap t-shirts. She was joining some new friends from her apartment block on a sort of bar crawl/drinking scavenger hunt that would stretch from brunch into the evening. It was a team competition, and her team was all going to wear tie-dye shirts. The others were getting together on Saturday to make theirs but since she had to work she just got her own supplies and made it into a fun activity to do with Lukas. Christina couldn’t resist joining in. They filled horse buckets with the water and dye and taught Lukas how to bunch up the shirt and add the rubber bands. After he saw the results on a his-size shirt, he wanted to make one for Daddy. It had to be yellow, because his “Daddy shirt” was yellow. Espen showed him how to draw on the adult-size white tee with fabric markers before they prepped it for the dye. He attempted a dinosaur and several humans of varying sizes and proportions. They weren’t all entirely recognizable as people. The finished product looked like a terrible children’s doodle made into a shirt instead of refrigerator art. He wanted to put it in the dye twice to deepen the yellow hue per Espen’s recommendation, so Christina hung it in her shower to dry because the dark tiles wouldn’t get stained.

“I think you should let him give it to you in the morning,” she explained to the lucky recipient of the haute couture piece. “He’ll be so proud and happy.”

“You think? Wouldn’t he like it if I just wear it?” André loved his ugly shirt. He loved that his son thought of him when he wasn’t around, and wanted to make him something.

“You can wear it after he gives it to you. I think you’ll look sexy in it, babe.”

“For some reason yellow doesn’t do for my eyes what it does for yours.” He pointed a cheeky smirk at his girl while holding the shirt up to his body.

“It’s really not your color.” She wrinkled one side of her nose and shook her head, and inadvertently reminded him of the things he didn’t want to talk about. I never look good in yellow. That’s the truth, he huffed inside. BVB shirt on, all talent, composure, and intelligence, gone. I just look like a jackass. “We tried to make it a darker, more flattering shade for you.”

“Mhm. Should I put it back in the shower? It seems dry.”

“I think it’s fine. Why don’t you put your bag away and stay awhile?” The rider winked at the dejected player and then wandered out of the bathroom and onto their bed. It was freshly made in clean linens, and too inviting to simply be walked past. There was nothing else to do in the house besides hover around André anyway.

“Where is your tie-dye shirt?” he asked her from his closet.

“In a drawer. It’s rainbow colored. I’m like a tie-dye pro.”

“Are we going downstairs, or outside, or bed, or what? What should I put on right now?”

“I dunno I don’t care.” Hola Juanin, Christina thought as her sweatpants pocket vibrated. It wouldn’t have been anyone other than the Spaniard. He played 74 minutes and assisted the match-winning goal, and she was waiting for him to respond to her congratulations text.

“Thanks. We played well. Who is it going to be with this time?” he wrote back. Her message also mentioned her desire to do another Dirk video, with a new artist, whose music she discovered only that afternoon, sort of.

“You know the song I played for you that sounds like its straight out of 1983 and I said I thought it might actually be brand new and not from Miami Vice? The featured artist on it is two guys called Oliver, because they’re both Olivers, and they’re DJ’s and producers and I heard their album that just came out and it’s AMAZING. You’ll prob love it. Add it on Apple. “Electrify” is my fave,” the rider told him with several dancing girl emojis.

“Why can’t you pick someone I already know personally and have a relationship with? Don’t you like any Kygo songs?” Juan’s feigned exasperation was audible in his digital words.

“Who says I want you to produce the video again?”

“Your mom.”

“We’re invited to a nightclub party in Milan on Saturday night with Rafa people. It’s not all night tho. Do you wanna?”

“I don’t know. That’s a week from now.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I had dinner with Paula. I’m home now. Bedtime for Juan.”

“Are you still hanging out with Taylor tomorrow?”

“I put sweatpants on because you have sweatpants on,” André shrugged on his way over to join his girl on the nicely made bed. She was upside down and tapping away on her phone. “Watcha doin?”

“Nothing.” Christina barely got the word out before the other player’s next message arrived.

“Yes.”

“Coming in hot.” The BVB midfielder crawled over her and literally just collapsed on her body, trapping the phone and her hand under his shoulder. “Ahh, yeah. Comfy.”

“Ugh, you weigh a ton. Why are your bones so heavy? There’s no fat on you to weigh this much.”

“Stop complaining,” he ordered before reluctantly scooting down some so that their parts lined up slightly better. He took the phone from her hand and set it on the bed, and then put both of her hands down at her side, out of the way of his elbows. Then he dropped his head down for a quick smooch. “Thanks for coming to the match.”

“Why do you still thank me?” Christina laughed. “I will never get that. I’ve been going to your games for almost 7 years. I was going to them even before that too. You just didn’t know it.”

“Because I’m still thankful that you support me. And that you support me at home too even after I play like crap.”

“You’re a hero to me and your son whether you score a hat trick, an own goal, or an award for doing absolutely nothing of note for an hour.” She couldn’t help but tease a little. It was totally fine with him because her teasing smile was very nice to look at. He bent down to kiss her again, a little slower, and then petted her forehead and some of her hair.

“I guess you weren’t paying attention when I gave the ball away and we almost lost a goal.”

“No I was, but you didn’t even do that well enough for them to actually score, so...doesn’t count.”

“Nice.”

“In all seriousness, was something hurting? You weren’t moving so good.” Christina held onto his waist and enjoyed his freshly showered smell. It was clean and manly and evoked all of the things inside a female that tell her to notice a male.

“Not really, but you’re right. By the end I wasn’t moving well.”

“Do you need a butt massage?” She slid her hands down over his behind and gave it a demonstrative double squeeze.

“You mean you have time for an ass that isn’t Jon Snow’s? You’ve found a way to include it in every other conversation for two days. Who is that?” His attention was diverted before he could list all the times she managed to work Kit Harington’s perfect ass into conversations. Her phone vibrated again, and lit up.

“How should I know? I can’t see it. Duuhhhhh.”

“Duhhhhhhh.”

“You’re crushing my liver or something. So you’re lucky you smell good.” And...meh. As the Olympic medalist inhaled some more eau du manly man, several threads converged in her head and dampened her mood. She spent much of the pre-match festivities with Zoe, and Nuri’s wife Tugba, talking about her new interest in Game of Thrones, and how it spawned from “that love scene” everybody was on about. The girls had so much to say and not just about Jon Snow’s wonderful, Fibonacci sequence-aligned bum. The other two knew more than the rider about the series, so they had more perspective on the significance of the love scene, but she could still testify to the powerful and meaningful emotions that were fueling it. It was obvious. The scene was about love, not sex. Zoe told her it was one of the few sex scenes in the whole story that portrayed the act as something loving instead of brutal and animalistic.

She also got wistful and fanciful and longing in talking about “that kind of love”. Marco’s girl asked, rhetorically, how amazing it is to have sex like that- to be so enamored, and so deeply in love, and so “so”. It was a struggle for her to even put a label on it. Tugba was all about it too. Nuri’s wife knew exactly what Zoe meant, and so did Christina. Unfortunately, thinking about the “oh my god, star-crossed lovers finally together, they need each other, they need to make love to fully experience it” sort of love just made her realize that she never had that with André anymore.

As Juan’s texts piled up on the phone next to her head, she felt uneasy inside. He was the one with whom she experienced that sort of love. He was the one she longed to be with that way. The girls also talked about other kinds of love, which they deemed good but not as singularly rewarding, satisfying, and special. André ticked the boxes for her for “when he’s so hot or handsome and you just need him” love and “casual, flirty” love, and “when you wake up Sunday morning and love each other” love. The player’s wives called the rarity of the other sort of love bittersweet, because they wanted to experience that encounter more often but recognized that it would be diminished with greater frequency. Zoe even said it was a “two handful” life experience, meaning one would only experience it maybe 10 times in a lifetime. So Christina logically shouldn’t have been that alarmed by the realization that she and her partner hadn’t had a night like that in some time, or that she wasn’t feeling that way about him. But she wasn’t sure that Zoe was right. It seemed like she thought of Juan that way all the time, and they had “Jonerys-level” sex multiple times just that summer. Sniffing her husband and feeling attracted to him on that most basic level of desire was disappointing for her, because it just reinforced everything she thought of in hospitality with the girls.

“Do you want me to move?” André offered when he noticed that her expression went flat for too long for her just to be kidding when she said he was lucky to smell good. It was like she frowned to go along with the banter but then just never smiled again or re-engaged.

“No. But...do you still...do you ever feel like you love me so much that you need to love me, like, physically? I mean- Not- Like- Like when you want to literally make love. You want to be together because of just...love. Not because you want to get off, or because I look good or whatever, or even like when you’re obsessed with being with my body for a while. I mean make love like the night before you went to Brazil, and our wedding night, and the first time we were together post-separation when it wasn’t weird anymore. When you look at me and I actually look back.” Christina regretted opening her mouth with every additional word she piled on to try to make herself clear. Her face was pink by the end, and she was hoping to disappear into the mattress somehow.  

“How many times did you watch the scene with his butt? You are so obsessed. Let it go, Prinzessin,” André chuckled. “You get so hung up on films and shows. Life doesn’t have to be that dramatic!”

“Never mind the show. Do you know what I’m talking about? Don’t you-“

“I wanted to be with you like that yesterday and you didn’t feel the same.” Why is she asking me this, he wondered. Why does she fool around when I want to be serious, and get serious when I’m just whatever. Why does she watch and read love stories and then have to live them the same?

“No that’s not the same, babe.” The rider shook her head and peered up at him with almost something like urgency. “I’m talking about when we’re both feeling exactly the same way. It’s a joint thing. It can’t happen to just one.”

“Well wouldn’t you know then? If it has to be both of us then you know all the times,” the player sighed. He just didn’t want to be having that conversation. He wanted to go back to enjoying her face and her casual conversation. She sighed too, but inaudibly, and nodded. His answer illustrated a good point. There was no point in asking him if he experienced something recently that she didn’t when the experience was dependent on them both. So it wasn’t just Christina that wasn’t feeling it. It wasn’t just that she had Juan as an alternative. The other half of the equation was messed up too. She wanted to know why, but didn’t know how to find out. He lifted his head to look at nothing across the room- an inadvertent but indicative gesture that put more space between their faces. His girl didn’t know how to even go about finding out her answer without aggravating him further.

“Okay.”

“Has anyone told you the guy with the ass and the girl with the braids are brother and sister? And that he’s a bitch? He would be the guy who listens to Drake and cries over girls. It’s just a TV show, Chris. Real life isn’t supposed to be comparable.” He was still aggravated anyway.

“Can you get off me if you’re going to talk to me like I’m an idiot?” So was she. He flipped over onto his back next to her for a second and then did a sit up and shifted around to lean against the headboard. She rolled onto her stomach and picked up her mobile.

“Goodnight baby girl.” He says with a red heart. Honestly, why do I fight to be in love with a man I love dearly when it’s no struggle at all to be in love with the other man I love? Seriously. Why? Why do I do this? Schü and I treat our relationship like it’s a project we’re working on, or like a patient with a whole bunch of problems and we don’t even know if he’s going to make it. I just love Juan. That’s it. That’s all there is to say. I don’t have to try. He doesn’t talk about us like we’re a work in progress. He realistically COULD do that, because I know he sees us being together in the future and it must seem like we take steps toward and away from that at times, but he doesn’t. Why do we do this? I don’t even know anymore. The old answer was that I wanted us to be together, and I wanted to keep our family together. I used to say that just because something is hard doesn’t make it not worth it. I need a drink before I get upset.

“Where you going?”

“Water.”

[kapitanwingter]

Chapter 4 - Rustbucket

"Whaaat now...." I said still half asleep "Just five more minutes...stop with the ringing already...."

In the end I did punched the clock so it would stop ringing.

Then I looked at it. And shouted.

"ÉDES FASZOM I'M LATE"

I still can't describe the situation better than I did back then. Having said screw you to breakfast I jumped into my uniform grabbed a pen and the notebook closest to me and rushed towards the school building.

I saw nobody walking towards it so I panicked and started running even faster. In the end I arrived at the gate by seven-fifty-four.

"My my what brings you here miss I-will-almost-skip-school-today" said the morale committee girl at the gate "Guess this is your lucky day already, carry on Hungary-san"

"Thanks a lot" I said "Annoyance-san.."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" she shouted after me.

"I SAID KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK" I replied

"That's not what you..."

"SORRYCANTHEARCHA" I said as I slammed the main door behind me.

I swore to myself I would never be late again. That brunette half-pint midget was really creepy.

First lesson was math for which I had enough energy first time in my life since I literally ran a kilometer fourty seconds after I had woken up. Math is the subject I love and hate the same time equally. It's interesting....most of the times....when I understand it. Not to mention I'll need it if I ever want to be an engineer just like Dad. Of course I can e-mail him and he always helps me but honestly this is the case when you either figure the things out for yourself or you will never understand it.

After math it was history.

Then Japanese, which is currently the most troublesome for me. Why you might ask? I'm not a native though I must learn literature and culture during these lessons. Interesting but rather hard though not necessarily useless for me.

As for fourth period I sat through an English lesson the very same way I did it back home. I know everything there is to me, not to mention the level I studied before was higher. They focus on foreign languages in this country but they are not really good at them. I guess it's only natural so understandable.

Nothing really happened during this time. I talked to some classmates between lessons and the teachers didn't tease me much and it's not hard to figure out why.

Lunchtime.

I didn't take my time today, I went to the dining hall and on the way I ran into Saki. They were writing some kind of welcome-back test because their math teacher is like that. She finished early while the others are still struggling with it.

"I mean I know that woman but still...it is getting closer to the last drop" she said.

"Sounds like you didn't do very well" I replied.

"Nah, I wouldn't say it was easy but as my Mom always says I shouldn't try to deal with things I can't so I left some things unanswered. Like two out of ten. Anyways let's eat something"

"Yeah"

I just pushed a random button on the vendor however Saki took her time to figure out what she wanted to eat. You could naturally bring a bento but we are not in the situation where any of our moms could make us lunch. We sat down at a table in front of each other with two seats to spare. I was looking out the huge windows of which we sat next to while reacting and answering to Saki's monolgue about waterpolo. I don't dislike the sport I just don't like it very much though my Dad does it when he has time and my country is strong in it.

Some time later two of Saki's classmates came by.

"Good day Tamara"

"Good day Kaga" I replied "Please, do sit if you want.

"Much obliged" she said "This is Nashikawa Kanae, our classmate"

She was a bit shorter than me, had a ton of bracelet on her arms and a necklace. She also had middle sized black hair and a very overconfident look on her face.

"Howdy" said Kanae "Finally met you, nice to meat'cha! Call me Kan"

"Likewise" I said "You can call me Tam or Tami"

"Sooooouh..." said Kan "Heard you might consider taking up sensha-dou, huh?"

"News sure spread fast"

"Or Saki over here just approoves of you a lot"

 Saki blushed a bit.

"Don't you worry a bit!" she continued "I will teach you everything I know...if you can keep up that is"

"You're going overboard again, Kanae" said Kaga.

"Oh right like you can teach her everything miss I-shot-through-the-garage-on-my-first-day-chan"

"Which never happened again because I read the manuals after and had no problems ever since" said Kaga calmly

"Waitasec" I said "You are doing sensha-dou as well?"

"Your deduction capabilities are sparkling today" she said.

"At least you know what a tank is, right?" asked Kan

I grined with half of my face while cracking my fists under the table and explained to her how well I "know what a tank is, right".

Kaga and Saki were eating their food calmly as Kan there next to me went a bit pale.

"I hope I didn't say anything bad" I said

"Not to us" said Kaga.

"I had no idea you are already such a pro miss Tami" said Saki.

"I guess Kan-chan here can't play the big-bad senpai role with you" said Kaga.

"You actually shot an 88....?" said in the end Kan.

"Yes" I replied

"That. Is. AWESOME" she bursted out in the end "I've always wanted to shoot the big guns but goddamn I'm-the-boss-here Captain said 'Only after you had released all the energy inside of you'...."

"This Captain you are speaking of sounds rather bossy..."

"I would rather put it like" said Kaga "She doesn't approove of hasty decisions near a tank. Otherwise she is very confident and energetic...well...not as much as Kan-chan here"

"Oh don't you start it again..." said Kan.

"Starting what?"

"Nevermind..."

After talking to Kan for a little while I thought she really was good in heart. Just a bittle over-enthusiastic.

Lunch time was over. I headed back for another Japanese, biology and domestic-appliances class.

I was told to meet with with the sensha-dou team at their club-house, next to the big buildings I saw the other day. I looked in the dusty window and I could see a few people there as if they were waiting. I was ten minutes early of the de-briefing. I stepped in.

"Hi there" said the girl up front who came to greet me.

"Good day" I replied "Is this the..sensha-dou clubhouse?"

"If you want to call it that" replied the previous tall girl with long brown hair "But we prefer calling it HQ. I'm Eguchi Emese by the way but the others call me Cap for Százados"

She was wearing what seemed to me the tank uniform of this school. A dark olive colured coverall with a belt but she didn't wear the top half so her undershirt was visible. There was also an M39 Hungarian tanker hat on the table up from which I assumed it was hers.

"Ötvös Tamara, nice to meet you"

"Whoa whoa whoa wait you're the Hungarian girl? Seriously? Awesome. My ancestors are from there"

"Well you do have a Hungarian name"

"So. Ya into sensha-dou huh? So six new poeple gathered here this year so far - less than expected - but I hope more will come. We need to resupply our personnels after the ones finished here went away. I guess we can start the de-briefing, nobody else seems to be coming"

We took seats in that little treehouse. It really was a de-briefing hall. A projector on the roof, blackboard and whiteboard on the wall, maps, manuals and other kinds of information documents were everywhere with some desks where you could work and do some paperwork. There even was a long-range communications table with a morse-emitter.

"So" started Cap "Six of you are here now. This couldn't be more perfect! Welcome all to Árpád Girls' School's sensha-dou team. If you wish to go the door is there and nobody will ever hold you back but if you wish to stay...you will contribute to the thing this school is best at in rivalry with waterpolo. Sadly from year to year our numbers are decreasing but we are about to change that. All we have to do is show some progress which; We; Will"

She said this while walking left and right up in front.

"Right now with you guys we are able to man twenty-nine tanks, but for the upcoming battles we need thirty. With your addition to the batallion we grew stronger. From now on it's all up to you to show us how stronger. I think it's only fair to let you know what you need to deal with so here are our numbers: we have fifty tanks total - 2 Tigers, 2 Panthers, 5 Panzer 4s, 8 38M Told Is, 8 43M Toldi IIs, 4 Zrínyi with 105mm guns and 4 with 75mm guns, 8 40M Turán I, 8 41m Turán II and a 44M Tas"

"Waitasec" I said suddenly "I mean excuse me. We seriously have a Tas?"

"Yeah, any notice on that?" asked Cap.

"No...just...cool...only one was built" I said.

"And you can feast your eyes upon her later" said Cap with a grin on her face which seemingly she couldn't surpress "All right girls I'm gonna be frank with you, that is all the information you need, the rest you have to learn so here comes the top point of the day. Wanna ride a tank?"

"Hell yeah!" we all shouted at once.

"All right girls, I'll be back in a few minutes I have something to gather for you"

She left us there alone in an awkward silence.

"Well" I said "If we're going to be sardines in a tin can we might as well get to know each other first...perhaps...?"

"Sure why not, I guess I'll start then" said a girl with long silver hair " My name is Royama Reiko. I came from up north and been this school for a while. My hobby is sports shooting"

"Katsura Fusako. I came from the north as well and I don't really have any hobbies other than riding and gaming" said the girl next to Reiko who was quite tall, had middle long brown hair in a sideways ponytail but seemed a year younger than the rest of us.

"I am Ban Jitsuko" said the other tall girl with long blonde hair "I came from the seashore on the west and I don't have any hobbies at all but I like the navy and I want to join it eventually"

"I guess I have to introduce myself as well" start the girl next to Jitsuko with short black hair "I'm Toyota Eimi. I came from the northernmost island of Japan and I don't have a driving license yet but I want to drive cars to my heart's content"

"Watabe Aoi is my name and I was and am still classmates with Jitsuko" said she who had long black hair.

It was my turn next.

"I am Ötvös Tamara, I came here from Hungary or rather...was sent here. I have a lot to do with tanks and I want to ride a tank like I could never before at home. Nice to meet you all"

They nodded and said likewise.

"Crazy huh" said Eimi "We have not one, but two bloody Tigers"

"Well if our theme is Hungary" replied Jitsuko "It stands for reason"

"True that" said Eimi.

"I'm more fascinated about the Tas" I said "We only made one and it was lost..."

"What do you mean by 'we'?" asked Fusako.

"Well I am from the theme country" I replied.

"Oh right" she said.

"We might as well get along with each other if we'll be closed together" said Aoi.

"I didn't mean to offend I was just curious" said Fusako.

"Aren't only five supposed to operate the tank?" asked Reiko "It's not like we'll have two loaders, not to mention the space"

"You're right...what's gonna happen to one of us?" said Jitsuko.

"I doubt any of us needs to worry" I said "We need a commander, a driver, a shooter, a loader, a radio operator AND we could also have a maintenance personnel who can be a stand in to any of us"

"Great idea" said Fusako.

"She'll need to travel outside then" said Aoi.

"I'll laugh if you'll be that one, Ao!" said Jitsuko "Oh right her nickname is Ao, you can just call me Ji"

"A nickname to a name with three letters?..." asked Reiko.

"Got a problem with that?" said Ji.

"No just sounds rather interesting, anyways I guess call me Rei.

"Fusako's good for me" she said.

"You can call me Ei then, and you Tamara?"

"Tami's fine. I think this is the start of a wonderful friendship...or a horrible one"

Everyone laughed.

"Okay chaps, come with me" shouted Cap from outside.

We followed her and led us in the last hangar.

"My apologies, the OP tanks are already reserved. You're our 29th tank so what we have left are...four Turán I, four Turán II, seven Toldi I and six Toldi II..."

The girls started arguing what to choose, one of them even tried to sweettalk Cap into letting us drive at least a Panzer IV.

"Sorry, though we swap around the tanks according to the battles but we must respect the commanders' decisions"

I wandered into the hangar. It was the one for the medium and light tanks....then I suddenly spotted something covered in some clothing. I unraveled it and I forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

"Oy Cap!" I shouted "Is this one reserved?"

"That piece of junk? Hasn't turned on for decades"

I griend and opened up the engine compartment.

They were still discussing the matter of the tank but after five minutes they heard an engine roaring. I stopped in front of them and jumped out.

"Pan-paka-paaaan~" I said "You were saying Cap?"

"How on earth did you make that rustbucket ignite?" she asked with a surprised looking on her face"

"She has a rather...delicate engine" I replied "Weiss Manfréd Works made ones require the fine touch of a rough girl hehe. So whatchy'all think?"

After that I told them thoroughly my story with tanks.

"I think you already are our commander" said Ji.

They agreed and started throwing me in the air.

"Ta-mi! Ta-mi! Ta-mi!" they chanted.

"Well then, I guess it's settled" said Cap as she wrote the next to our names: 44M Tas.

[theelectricfilmdiary]

On the 13th of Jan we jetted our way into Lisbon, Portugal. Even on the plane flying in at dusk we could tell this place was going to be the tits. Our uber driver from the airport was really sweet and though he spoke little English, tried to point out local sites and main roads for us. We were basically speaking to each other through our phones, got pretty funny at some points, especially when he was trying to explain something to us and his phone kept translating what he was saying to “Mazda 3” haha. The people here are really warm and it has to be one of our favourite places so far; good people, great food and the city is fantastic. Perched right on the coast and surrounded by beaches which are just a short, cheap train ride away.

We arrived at our Hostel – Livin’ Lisbon. It seemed really cool, clean, in a big old building that looked recently done up, and was buzzing with all sorts. After being checked in our host escorted us to our room, a private double room with a massive bed and desk, drawers etc – right in the city for only 34aud a night including breakfast. Shared bathroom, but there were two on our small floor so no real issue there. The hostel even provide dinner each night for only 4 euro each. Pretty stoked at the value and quality of the place. We got settled into our room and headed out to grab a bite –  Found a new burger joint just around the corner called Gutsy. Was ok, lets just say its no Burgerfuel… the “home-made” lemonade was pretty decent though.

Upon returning, showering and clambering into bed, we soon discovered the downside to our amazing accommodation; Right next door (somewhere) is a night club playing DOOF-DOOF til the small hours, AND the hallways of our level have polished wood floors with high ceilings and echo any footsteps or voices ten fold. At about 12:30am I’d had enough of the loud Americans in the hallway (who I might add had left their bedroom door open while they drank and shout-talked). …”ALEXAAA, ALEXAAA! OH MY GAAD ALEXAA WHAT REWM ARE YEW IN??? IM IN HERE TEWW!”… I was at the end of my patience with inconsiderate assholes and while I couldn’t do anything about the top 100 hits from 2005 going on next door, I sure as shit wasn’t going to tolerate loud conversation from the fools down the hall. I got up and told them politely to shut their door – I was actually pretty polite too, I don’t know if my face registered calm but they apologised and shut the door, appearing completely unaware of their noise level. An hour later I donned ear plugs and finally fell into a deep sleep…

14th Jan – Day one in Lisbon started with breakfast at the hostel, pancakes with Nutella, raspberry compote, and yoghurt plus muslie or toast – coffees wasnt bad either. Then out to explore. We had rounded the corner of the hostel down one of the many tight and tall little back streets when we came across an antique store and were told that there was a vintage market on the main street, Av. de Liberdade, a couple blocks away. Onward we marched until reaching said market, it was full of treasures – most we either couldn’t afford or  couldn’t afford to carry home but purchases were made in the form of a great periperi from a foodie stall and a few other bits and pieces. Also had the experience of being told off by an old stall owner for picking up a perfume dispenser that looked like a vintage flip lighter… “if you don’t know what et es, do not touch et” before explaining what it was and clicking the button I was about to click myself – Cheers mate.

We continued further down the main street towards the harbourside, sucking in as much sunlight as possible on the way. Lisbon is stunning, full of century old buildings with brightly painted or tiled facades. The streets smell of the most mouth-watering food and there are a tonne of people trying to sell you weed, even cocaine! – but they were offering it all to Jim, I guess he’s got “that” look haha. We stopped at a bakery and bought a couple of treats, lemon curd doughnuts, custard tarts and this savoury scone roll type thing with pepperoni and cheese in the middle – oh my. Further down was the sunny waterfront at Cais das Colunas which was humming with tourists and a couple of street performers including a percussion band that were on point – complete with a hoolahoop-gypsy-hippy lady dancing in front.

Off through the back streets again, photographing dozens of pieces of street art and graffiti  – its everywhere here but adds to the colour and beauty of the city. Soon STARVING we stopped in at a hole in the wall local restaurant for a late arvo lunch and ordered grilled sardines with potatoes and salad – pretty standard local style food where the fish is chargrilled. A small bowl of fresh olives, local beer and sangria topped the experience off. It had to be one of the tastiest meals we have eaten on this Europe trip, and so simple. All the food had so much flavour and the fish was so good! Definitely wanna try cooking like that back home. Dessert was interesting – mine was like a custard creme brûlée, and Jims could only be described as scrambled egg cake with coffee syrup haha. Kinda weird but we ate it all. After a couple of hours chatting and drinking, we left and walked up the hill (not a nice feeling when you’re full of fish, custard and sangria) and got to a look out point Miradouro da Graca at the Igreja e Convento da Graca Cathedral which was in the middle of a service so we couldn’t look around – but what we saw of the building was gorgeous. Then back up and over many hills and we were at the hostel a couple of hours later. Having booked in for the 4 euro dinner we enjoyed a plate of pasta later that evening before retiring to our room. Another dance music induced sleep, and we woke to the morning of the 15th January. This was another Stop The World day. Jim and I were exhausted. Our feet were bruised and sore and staying in bed for the day was luxury. There aren’t many times in your life when you will spend the entire day in bed – blissss.  Jim went out to the supermarket round the corner that evening and we made burgers in the hostel kitchen, using some of that periperi we bought the day before… Perfect end to a perfect day of nothingness. The morning of the 16th, well rested we leapt (not really) out of bed and prepared for another day of exploration. Its bright and sunny here every day and way warmer than anywhere we have been so far – getting up to about 16 degrees during the day. Got to say the sunshine is sooo good after a couple of months of cold/rainy/overcast days. We joined our fellow hostel goers for breakfast and then left for the train station and Cascais beach. Three trains and 45 minutes later we were walking the stunning shore line and small cobbled streets of Cascais and wishing despite the cooler climate, that we had bought our beach gear with us for the day. The water is crystal clear and so many different shades of blue and turquoise it blows your mind.

Down at the small beach cove a sand artist – is that what they are called? Sand sculptor? I don’t know, anyway a guy was building these epic sand sculptures and castles.  Jim chucked a coin into the well and the sculpture (of a guy holding his ding-a-ling) turned into a fountain and simulated him taking a pee into the well haha. Pretty cool. Our explorations took us further around the point, and being a monday in the middle of winter almost all restaurants/stores were closed. A couple of kilometers down there was a marina where we found a Portuguese tapas place and indulged in a multitude of delights; fresh clams with butter, garlic and parsley, prawns cooked much the same way but super crispy, mozzarella and tomato on toast with basil, olive oil and balsamic, Iberian ham (local cured ham which is only produced in spain and Portugal) on toast with red pepper pesto, great bread and olives again with a local beer and white wine – not sure what the drinks were called but they were delish too. We ate everything. It was too good to leave, including the buttery garlic gravy from the clams and prawns which we soaked up with the bread. Another bakery stop (or two) for custard tarts and we were feeling sorry for ourselves haha, too much of a good thing or in this case, many good things. The day was drawing to a close so on the train and home for the night. We were still so full that we didn’t eat dinner until 10pm and it was another home-made burger for Jim and a cheese toasty for me. The 17th of January, post hostel breakfast and chores were calling. We spent a couple of hours at Vem e Lava laundrette up the road where we soaked up the free wifi and I wrote most of this entry. The plan, to get the laundry done and then head off on the train to the ferry terminal to catch a ferry across the river/harbour to Cacilhas and then another bus and over to a beach called Costa da Caparica. The weather was perfect and the water extremely calm so the ferry trip of about 12-15mins was effortless. When we hopped off the boat we were in the port area of Cacilhas and there were a few outdoor seafood restaurants serving charcoal grilled fish, as well as Portuguese fish stews, paella and clams. We sat down and ordered up a bunch of food before Jim realised that he hadn’t grabbed any more cash after our laundry expenses that morning and we were left with 30 euros for the day! – This had to cover our bus and train tickets too. So Jim ran up to the waiter and apologetically cancelled our lunch. We had already received our drinks, bread, cheese (Portuguese sheeps milk cheese which is so yum and served at most restaurants as soon as you sit down) and a tasty plate of olives. So we sat and ate bread, cheese and olives and downed our wine and beer before apologising again. We paid 10 euros for the drinks and nibbles – I might add it was only 7 euros but we felt so bad and cheap that we tipped 3 euro haha.

On the way to the bus we saw in the distance a giant sailing ship and headed toward that to check it out. It was called Fragata D. Fernando II e Glória and is a rebuild of a ship that sunk in the Lisbon harbour.  We had a walk through it and had some side-splitting moments from acting out the voices of the many freaky looking mannequins they had set up below deck… Good times.

Another bus ride (after wasting three euro’s buying the wrong tickets first time – good stuff eh) and we found ourselves at Costa da Caparica township. This place is a bit of a surf haven and after walking through the extremely tourist oriented township we made it to the beach where, despite the cold water and next to no surf, there were still a few guys out. Jim and I had packed our bathers knowing that the water was around 10 degrees but we both refused to come to Portugal and leave without swimming in the Atlantic Ocean. We stripped off and changed on the beach under our coats and towels before running into the freezing salty water. It was fecking cold BUT it was also really refreshing and afterward (once warm and dry) we felt completely revitalised. We wandered up the shore and watched a few fishing boats on their way in before strolling back through town and catching a bus to the ferry terminal – just in time too, we arrived a couple of seconds before they pulled the platform and left for Lisbon.

Night had fallen by the time we got home, so we quickly changed and left for dinner at a local joint round the corner down a back street. More bread, cheese and this time sardine pate – which we both loved, before mains of grilled fish (cant remember what type) and potatoes. The food was good, and we left pretty happy. That night we were kept awake again by noisy Italians in the room next to ours and the club next door. Fun fun.

The 18th was our last full day in gorgeous Portugal, and we spent in the town of Sintra, located about 45 minutes out of the city centre by train – towards the west coast. It was quite a bit colder there being a more mountainous region, but had warmed up by mid afternoon. The main attraction in Sintra is the medieval castle ruins Castelo Dos Mouros, which was built in the 9th century by the Moors (Muslims of Europe). We walked up about 100 floors of stairs and steep walkways to get to the top, and the 360 degree view of the area, including the ocean, inland towards the north, and Lisbon city. Beautiful. Also the walk was lined with lush green trees and plants, every single part of it was scenic. After reaching the summit of the castle, we walked right around the walls to each tower taking photos before starting our descent down the opposite side of the hill. We passed an old Tuscan style villa Vila Sassetti which has been restored and is maintained for tourists. The grounds and villa are stunning – romantic Tuscan style architecture with bright terracotta tiles all over the place. From there it was a short trek down through the old town area (full to the brim with over priced tourist targeted knick knacks and restaurants) – Jim and I decided to play it smart (so we thought) and walked further out of the tourist part and into the local areas. There was a restaurant called A Tasca do Manel which had decent ratings online and offered a 2 course lunch and a drink for 7.50 euros each. Sounds good right? We sat down and were told that the chicken curry option was all sold out so we would have to have squid stew. Trying to challenge our taste buds with local cuisine we boldly accepted.

BAD. MOVE.

The first course of lunch was squash and vege soup, which while a bit under seasoned and sweet was still edible. The next course, squid stew…. Joisus…. it was bad, sooooo salty and with a weird texture that made each mouthful a struggle. Plus the potatoes served on the side were way too salty as well – not as salty as the stew but not much of a reprieve either. I had to wash each mouthful down with beer and when I ran out of beer I gave up. We were one of the only tables in the restaurant (we had originally put this down to the 2:30pm time we sat down to eat but soon realised why it was empty). We followed the stew down with a semi burnt tasting espresso and then escaped as quickly as possible after paying. The whole train ride home we were burping up old salty squid…. delightful.

Once back in Lisbon city we went straight to the hostel and lay down for a while, still both feeling the effects of our scrumptious lunch. Dinner that night was plain bread… neither of us really felt up to proper food… :S

Later that evening, while scrolling the internet, Jim found there had been a few quakes about 20 miles from Rome, where we were heading the next day! We called our parents to “seek wise counsel” (say that out loud in a Texan accent) and had a decision to make, cancel our flight and stay in Lisbon another week til we fly home, or just say FUCK IT and go… we chose the latter.

The 19th sadly arrived. Time to leave Lisbon, we got up early, packed, and were out the door by 7am. An Uber arrived to collect us, and the driver got out to help us with our bags. While putting our bags in the boot, the car started rolling forward – he had forgotten the hand brake – Once in the car and on our way to the airport he consistently ran reds, turned on a dime, and flew over speed bumps. Radical.

Another round of airport security, of course Jim got stopped and checked, and we were on the runway leaving Lisbon bound for Rome, exhausted but excited…

Street art, Lisbon

Sintra street details

Squid stew…..

Cascais beaches

Costa da Caparica Beach

Path to Castelo Dos Mouros

Lisbon street details

Vila Sassetti

Cascais waterfront

Cacilhas port

Cascais streets

Rossio Square fountain, Lisbon

Chargrilled fish

Lisbon street details

Door details, Sintra

Ferry crossing to Cacilhas

Castelo Dos Mouros

Touristy knick knacks, Sintra

Cascais waterfront

Fragata D. Fernando II e Glória, Cacilhas

Fragata D. Fernando II e Glória, Cacilhas

Cascais beach

Freaky mannequins in the Fragata D. Fernando II e Glória, Cacilhas

Gardens outside Vila Sassetti

Castelo Dos Mouros

Cascais beaches

Post lunch – Lisbon

Costa da Caparica Beach

Lunch in Cascais

Gardens on the way to Castelo Dos Mouros

Lemon curd delights

Costa da Caparica Beach

Gutsy burgers for dinner

Castelo Dos Mouros details

Cascais lunch

Arco da Rua Augusta, Lisbon

Arco da Rua Augusta, Lisbon

Gardens on the way to Castelo Dos Mouros

Cascais sand artist

Chargrilled Sardines, Lisbon

Cascais sand artist

Lisbon, Portugal On the 13th of Jan we jetted our way into Lisbon, Portugal. Even on the plane flying in at dusk we could tell this place was going to be the tits.

[sillyunknownkitkatrebloging]

Do you actually live with him????

Like htf is this so accurate huh?

Like what?

Alex Keller is the type to say "ooohh big stretch" with a beaming smile on his face as he pushes a third finger in you, and I won't elaborate.