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goldenlikedayl1ght · 10 months ago

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we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

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charliehoennam · 6 months ago

Text

beyond the badge pt. 2

a/n: special thanks to @strangergraphics-archive for the cute divider <3

pairing: david loki x f!reader

summary: his fianceé is abducted and a distraught david realizes some rules must be broken in order to save the one he loves.

warnings: 18+, dark themes such as language, violence, eventual smut, suicide, death, physical injuries, threats, blood and abuse of law enforcement

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

one | three | four | five

David's entire demeanor hardens like stone. His thick brows furrow and his pupils dilate with a controlled madness glooming beyond them.

His posture straightens as his eyes grow dark and determined, instilling fear in his captain, complete with a fleeting chill that runs up his spine. He wonders if this is the final drop that will send David into spiraling chaos.

Taking the bag of newly found evidence along and completely forgetting that he shouldn't, David turns quickly to march back to his car.

A rage-induced adrenaline surges through his veins. He's more than hellbent to continue his own personal investigation, now that he knows where to start.

“Loki, don’t do anything stupid. You gotta be smart here," O'Malley tries to reason, although he's sure David's anger nulls out all the noise around. "Loki, where're you going? Loki!"

He ignores his captain’s orders as he slams his car door shut. The wheels skid loudly as he backs up out of the parking lot and onto the freeway, leaving behind black tire marks on the cold asphalt. O'Malley knows he's up to no good.

He suspects David knows something they don't, which means he's withholding information. So, he calls Loki's phone, but the calls just keep going to voicemail.

As much as David hates to admit it and bend to the will of a criminal, he knows only a deal with the devil can bring you home.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he curses pounding his bandaged fist against the steering wheel.

The car swerves, causing passing cars to honk impatiently, but he’s able to shift it back onto the lane.

At this point, he can barely feel his hand anymore and he’s almost certain it might end up in nerve damage. The bandages he had wrapped over his knuckles dampen, intensifying the red marks as they bleed through the material.

David might be a cop, but he is never afraid of getting his hands dirty to get what he needs and he knows just where to start.

“Hi, honey! I’m sorry, I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to call and thank you for the flowers” you beam through the cellphone.

He can almost hear your smiling. On his end of the line, he frowns to himself wondering what flowers you could be referring to.

“They’re so beautiful, Dave! I can’t wait to get them in the kitchen. They’ll look so pretty on the island.”

“What? Babe, I-I don’t – I didn’t get you any flowers” he frowns standing confused in the precinct’s breakroom.

“Of course you did, baby” you laugh softly lifting the card to read. “It's gotta be you. Who else would it be?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t get you flowers. I wish I had, but it’s not from me.”

“What? Dave, i-it has to be. The delivery guy confirmed my full name and work address. H-he confirmed the delivery. And-and there’s a card too. “You know what I want. See you soon. Love, D”.”

“Baby, they’re not from me.”

“David… This is getting too weird. First, the phone call. Now, the flowers? This can’t just be a coincidence.”

"Maybe it’s-it's just a mistake. It could be for someone else in the building or-"

"You mean there's someone else that works at the same place I do with the same name as me?"

"Maybe they got the address wrong or something."

"David, this doesn't feel right. Something feels wrong about this. It's really starting to freak me out."

“Hey,” he pauses as he steps over to close the breakroom door. “If this really is Donovan, he can’t do shit, alright? He’s in upstate in federal prison. He can’t get to us.”

“He doesn’t have to be free, David. People like him have contacts. They always have someone in their pocket.”

He can hear the worry in your voice. He understands you're scared, but, in his defense, he's seen plenty of these psychological mind tricks and empty threats from criminals before.

“No one is coming after us, alright? It’s just mind games, baby. They’ll get tired soon and they’ll stop, ok?”

“You need to tell someone, David. You need to tell O’Malley about this. This is not normal and I’m starting to get fucking scared.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be ok. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you or me.”

“I don’t wanna keep looking over my shoulder, David.”

“You won’t. Ok? It’ll blow over soon. I promise. I’ve seen this before.”

“You have?”

“Yes. They’re all bark and no bite. Just scare tactics to try and get what they want, but that’s all it is.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, alright?" A moment of silence lingers on the call. He knows he hasn't convinced you that everything is fine, but he's got mountains of paperwork on his desk to finish up." Listen, I gotta get back to work, sweetheart.”

“Yeah…” you nod to yourself, still disturbed by the situation. “Yeah, alright. Go, baby. I’ll see you at night. I love you, Dave.”

“I love you too, beautiful.”

His hand pulses with pain. The migraine throbbing in his skull reminds him of his lack of hydration and nourishment.

He’s been solely running on coffee and short 30-minute naps he’s taken on his late-night drives, searching for you, torturing questioning suspects that may be involved.

He’s given the department plenty of time to do their job but now, he needs to do his since he has now has the only piece of the puzzle that his fellow brothers-in-blue don’t.

He knows what he's about to do is far from correct procedure. Yet, in moments like these, he knows guidelines can only help him so much. This could be his only chance at getting you back.

Reaching his injured hand into his pocket, he takes his phone out. Ignoring the calls from O'Malley, he dials Michael Kemp’s number.

David had met the chubby and bubbly fellow years ago. Many of the fellow cadets would try to discourage Mike from accomplishing his dream of entering law enforcement. They would call him hurtful names and make fun of his size all the time, until David put an end to their bullying and befriended him.

They graduated together and have been friends since then, meeting up occasionally to catch up over a few beers.

Kemp encouraged David to become a detective meanwhile he, himself, preferred the calm desk duty working with evidence instead of criminals.

“Hey, Loki. What’s up?”

“Mike, are you still on evidence lock-up?” David doesn’t have time to bother with formalities.

“Yeah, man. Why?”

“I need the 500K we processed in the Donovan case.”

"What? T-that's evidence though. It's supposed to be collected by the bank. I can't just pull that much money without anyone noticing."

"I-I know, Mike. I realize this is a lot to ask for, but I need this, man. Please, just tell me if you can do it" David stutters desperately pleading.

“Do you realize I could lose my job and face time for that?” Mike lowers his voice to ensure no one can hear him.

“Yes, I know that, Mike. But this is some fucking serious shit, man. C'mon, I-I'm fucking desperate here! You gotta fucking help me out! Donovan's got my fianceé! I need to fucking get her back alive!”

He sighs taking a moment to try and calm himself down, remembering Kemp’s passive nature. Mike's one of the good guys; the kind of person that reminds him of the people he wants to protect.

“L-Look, Mike. Listen to me. I know this is off the record and you're risking your ass for me here, but I-I got a plan, alright? I can bring the money back into evidence. I just need Donovan to think he’s getting his fucking money back for this work, so can you do it or not?”

Kemp stays silent on the line, fueling David’s despair. Although this violates all the rules that Mike is sworn to follow, he knows David would do the same for him if the tables were turned.

“Mike!”

“Y-yeah, yeah. Hope you know what you’re doing, man.”

“Fuck… T-thanks, man.”

Arriving at a low-rate neighborhood widely known for drug-related activities, David comes to a rough stop in front of a house. The owner of it is two of Donovan’s slimy lackeys and brothers known as Ray and Vinny Becker.

The brothers used to sling drugs for him when Donovan was still free. David had cut a deal with Ray when his younger brother Vinny got jailed up on a drug bust: information on the big fish in exchange for his little brother's freedom.

Now that Donovan had been pinched, most of his 'loyal' buddies had all scattered, but Ray and Vinny remained, hoping that false loyalty could make him believe they didn't have anything to do with his imprisonment. So, if anyone could reach him without leaving tracks, it’d be them.

Gun in hand, David knocks on the door and turns away to hide his face out of concern they might not answer if they know who he is. He waits until the door creaks open to the limit of the door chain lock.

“The fuck do y-“

Before Vinny can finish his question, David quickly pushes the door in with his shoulder and slams the young man’s head against the wall, breaking his nose before shoving it into the mucky carpet on the floor.

He presses his gun to Vinny’s head as the older brother stands from the couch, lifting his hand to reach for the .9 millimeter on the coffee table, which is laden with cocaine, half-full ashtrays and thick rolls of money, tied together by rubber bands.

With no time with small-talk or warnings, kneeling on Vinny’s neck, he aims at the older brother and shoots a bullet into his leg, forcing Ray to fall back on the couch and grip at his thigh.

Shoving his gun back against Vinny’s head, the heat of the recently fired weapon burns his scalp. He groans and withers at the pain, kicking and screaming as the scent of burning flesh and hair fills the air.

“You know why I’m here,” David states with an eerily steady voice as Ray eyes the gun on the table. “Try it. Go ahead. I’ll shoot your brother too, I swear to fucking God.”

The smart detective knows their background too well to know Ray would do anything to protect his younger brother at all costs. Although Ray is in his late twenties, Vinny is still a kid just barely over the ripe young age of 18.

Distress pervades the stern detective, who stares down the older criminal with dark, empty eyes.

Ray refuses to take that risk well aware that David isn’t one to fuck around. He makes the smart decision to keep his brother alive and leans back on the couch sweating bullets as his hands put pressure to the wound on his leg.

“You’re gonna call your boss, tell em I got his fucking money.”

“C’mon, man. You know we don’t got that kinda power” Ray sneers.

“Yeah, you do. And you’re gonna do it, or I’ll tell Don who put his ass in prison.”

Ray pants heavily as he looks down his panicked brother and back at David. Everyone knows that snitches end up in ditches. If word gets out about their betrayal and false fidelity, Donovan won’t stop until they’re dead.

“The old mill on Oakland Falls, tonight.”

As Vinny grunts against your fianceé, Ray silently agrees with unspoken words.

David storms out of the house, tucking his gun back in his holster and quickly climbs into his car to race back downtown. As he drives, he checks his phone and sees Mike’s message.

“Good to go. Come by at 7.”

Having no other option, he drives to the station to finally come clean about everything to his captain. He doesn’t care about the backlash; he doesn’t care about possibly losing his shield. He cares only about getting you back alive.

O’Malley doesn’t take the news so lightly and gives David one hell of an earful for not having told him about the threats, no matter how small they might have seemed. Although reluctant, the captain decides to give him a chance to get you back.

They’ve got nothing else to lead them on except for the evidence found and being processed at the motel and David’s confession.

He knows this can go terribly wrong, but it’s their only hope of not ending up with another dead body floating in the river like Donovan’s previous victims. He orders Chemelinski to continue as first-in-command on the case, but allows Loki’s participation.

While the detectives and a team of uniformed officers plot in the briefing room, David’s phone rings with an unknown number. He excuses himself and steps out of the room to talk in private.

Even though there is no number on the screen, he suspects it’s from a burner. He lifts his hand while his body tenses with apprehension. It can only be one of two people and he wishes it’s you.

“About time I got your attention, detective,” Donovan’s grizzly voice chuckles. “You’re one stubborn son of a bitch. I gotta admit, I thought cops were better at protecting family. I been told she’s quite the fighter. You like ‘em feisty huh?”

David’s rage seethes within him as his fist balls, stretching the wounds on his white and numb knuckles.

“Are we doing this or not?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, detective. I got your little message, so I’ll tell you what. No fucking guests. I want you and you alone with my fucking money. If my guys see anyone that’s not you, she’s dead. You hear me? Fucking dead.”

“Midnight then. You know where.”

The call clicks and ends.

David walks toward his desk while the team of offices and agents huddle in the conference room. He sits at his desk and takes the smiling photo of you and him stood together in front of your Christmas tree last year.

His thumb caresses your cheek on the glass as if it were your real skin. He misses you so much. He just wants to make sure you’re ok and all he can do is pray this one shot he has works out.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “Should’ve listened to you.”

He closes his eyes as he mentally repeats the words. The guilt and regret bubble inside him again like a pressure cooker on fire.

Another explosion of rage erupts from him as he pushes everything off his desk in one swift movement. The meeting halts as all the eyes in the briefing room move toward him and watch his outburst through the window.

“Should’ve! Fucking! Listened!” he shouts to himself, slamming his keyboard against the desk, keys flying everywhere as he throws it to the floor.

While he slams the portrait onto the hard surface on his desk, O'Malley rushes out of the room to contain him as the uniformed officers follow him out, bracing themselves to do their jobs as if David is any other desperate citizen.

"I know, Captain" David affirms as he stands and holds his bloodied hand up to stop them.

He shakes the broken glass from the picture and tucks the treasured image into his pocket. Storming out of the station, he makes a quick stop at the nearest convenience store to pick up a carton of red Marlboro and a light, returning to his bad habit that he'd left in the past.

Sheltered by the store's awning, he sits quietly on the sidewalk with his back to the exterior, smoking one cigarette after the next in his bandaged hand.

Taking the crumpled photo from his pocket, he holds back his threatening tears as he admires the photo of you both together. He stares at your smile wondering if he'll ever get to see it again.

He would never forgive himself if he didn't.

#david loki #david loki x reader #david loki x you #david loki x y/n #detective david loki #david loki fic #david loki imagine #david loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #prisoners #prisoners fic #prisoners imagine #david loki prisoners #prisoners fanfiction

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billthedrake · 1 year ago

Text

Another story idea given by @maturedadsandmen

BIRD IN THE HAND

Cole Walker was about two blocks from his destination when his phone rang. He normally wouldn't answer it, but it was his sorta-kinda boyfriend/fuckbuddy John. Cole still made fun of John for still preferring to call instead of just text, but that's what you get sometimes for dating a man much older.

"Hey," the 24 year old answered. DC weather had moved from cold to brisk and his cheeks were flush.

"Hiya sexy," the said. John's voice was a craggy tenor, with an upstate New York accent. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

Cole smiled. The whole arrangement with John was weird, to say the least. The congressional staffer didn't even know the guy's last name. John was an FBI agent who was VERY closeted. In a town like DC, that wasn't unusual, and Cole himself had only told a couple of close friends that he was gay. But John seemed to want the boyfriend stuff as much as the sex. Cuddling, long talks, dates. All while being crazy protective of his privacy.

"Tough day?" Cole asked. He wished he didn't feel so eager to talk to the man, but it wasn't like he was ready for an open boyfriend either. The fact the federal agent was 47 made something real and public seem impossible to the younger man. He, too, enjoyed the play-pretend nature of their dating if he was honest with himself.

"And how," John breathed. "I'm about to meet a buddy for dinner, but I wanted to call... we still on for date night Saturday? I'll take you somewhere nice." It was only then that Cole could tell the man was in a public place and talking a little quieter than normal.

"Yeah," Cole replied. "And you don't have to go all out. I just enjoy seeing you."

There was a contrite pause on the other end. "I know I've not been good at things lately.. but would it be pushing my luck to have you stay over this time?"

Cole's heart pounded. It was hard to hold a grudge. "No, not at all."

John's volume got lower. "Damn, studly," he hissed. "That's gonna help me get through this week all right."

"Yeah," the younger man chimed in.

"Listen... I gotta go. But see you Saturday?"

"Yep," Cole replied. "Looking forward to it."

After they hung up, Cole felt guilty. It wasn't like he and John were boyfriends, really, not in the conventional sense, and they'd never said anything about being exclusive. If the agent ever asked, Cole would very likely agree to be a one-man guy but until then...

But the real reason he felt guilty is that Paul Ricciardi pushed his buttons in a different way than John. Cole dubbed him the "Head Honcho" is his mind, and while Ricciardi wasn't the number one guy at the Bureau, he wasn't that far down the org chart. In a lot of ways, he was the opposite of John - married and addicted to down-low sex, more dominant in bed, and confident in hooking up with a recently graduated dude despite his high-profile position. He knew Cole Walker was after dick and wasn't gonna blab to anyone.

Paul was just wrapping up a phone call when he heard the buzzer of the apartment. The rental was justified as a place to crash for late nights, but certainly his wife knew her 53-year-old husband kept on an affair, maybe more than one. They just never talked about it. The dont-ask-dont-tell approach worked for the law man.

Ricciardi's gruff face cracked a smile when he opened the door to see Cole. Dudes like this were dime a dozen in DC... congressional staffer, needy bottom, daddy issues galore. But this Walker kid was exceptional: he'd played soccer at Georgetown and his bulking up since graduation had interfered with that youthful jock look. The real deal. No two ways about, Cole was gorgeous. Just the right amount of masculine, the right amount of cute, total boy-next-door who still carried that jock gain as he walked in.

"Hey," Cole's voice said, quietly as he walked in. He respected Paul's need for discretion, it was almost intuitive.

"Hey," the career law enforcement man whispered in a soft growl, shutting the door. "You look hot as fuck."

Cole's eyes swept up Ricciardi's build. Mid-50s and fit as ever, the toned daddy beef filling out Paul's conservative but expensive suit and the short-cropped gray hair setting off the intensity of the man's brown eyes. The tie was loosened but other wise he was a poster boy for Bureau leadership. "You too," he gulped.

Paul grinned and reached up to cup the back of Cole's neck, yanking the younger man into a hot kiss.

Cole moaned into Paul's mouth as that thick tongue conquered him. He could taste scotch and smell the man's cologne. Reflexes kicked in as he reached forward to hold the man's suited waist, enjoying the feel of the Head Honcho's hard body beneath.

The kiss was over as quickly as it started. Ricciardi stepped back and reached down to unzip his suit trousers. The man wasn't overly hung - like John, his cock was meaty, even fat. "Gonna suck Daddy's cock, kid?" Paul roughly growled.

"Fuck yes," Cole said. He's been with only six men since first becoming sexually active at 21. But he quickly realized he was all bottom - orally and anally. He was still surprised he'd bagged two FBI men over the last year and a half. Luck, for sure, but it was also clear the ex-soccer jock had a type. Both Paul and John were strong, silent daddy personalities. His own father was a PA state trooper, and one day Cole would have to analyze the fucked-up part of his head that got turned on by that. Or not. Maybe it was something that could never fully be explained - it's just something about a law enforcement man pushed his buttons big time.

Paul Ricciardi was careful about who he fucked. He had a one-at-a-time rule, for the sake of discretion. By now, he'd had his share of hot young men. He'd met some real sluts and a couple of ex-jocks like Cole. But no one had combined that effortless masculinity with a real bottom eagerness like this kid.

"Fuck yeah," he growled as Cole began deep throating that fat hog. "Swallow Daddy."

More than he realized Cole was worked up that evening. He would have chalked it up to missing this cock, but actually Paul had reached out to him more frequently lately, no longer the once a month booty call. Maybe the more he had it, the more he wanted it.

That hand now clasped the back of Cole's neck and held tight as Paul's hips went into overdrive. Fast hard jabs battered the back of Cole's gullet. It was too much, and Cole coughed some on it, which made Paul pause before starting a gentler, if no less deep, thrusting.

Finally he pulled out, that dick spit wet and rock hard. It was beautiful to Cole. Like with John, he decided he liked the extra girth more than he craved extra length. For as bottomy as he was, the young stud wasn't a size queen. He'd prefer a tool that could use him without too much discomfort.

"To the bedroom, kid," Paul hissed, a hint of a smile cracking on the stern face. He was used to being in charge in every aspect of his life. He was in charge now. But something about this jock stud made him feel a little less in control.

Cole scrambled up. He'd learned to come over to Paul's prepared. Sometimes the two took their time, sometimes the married man seeded him in two minutes flat and sent him back home. As they entered the spare bedroom for the apartment, Cole quickly peeled off his sweatshirt and T in one move and just as quickly kicked off his sneakers and peeled down the jeans. There was nothing underneath and his own hardon stood up erect and excited. Cole may not have had the girth of his boyfriend or this man, but he was hung longer and the sparser crotch hair made his jock bone look even longer.

Paul was taking off his suit and laying it on a chair. He'd hang it up later. For now, his ravenous eyes were on Cole as he got onto the bed, on all fours. They didn't always mate this way but it was Ricciardi's favorite position, and Cole's too, thought they'd never talked about it. They just fucked.

Then watched the Head Honcho step toward the bed, his body tightly dense from dedicated workouts. The chest fur wasn't as silver as his hair, but it was getting there, and it got denser the closer toward that magic cock, which was already dripping.

"Damn, when was the last time you got off?" Cole asked.

Paul climbed on the bed and ran his hand over the ex-jock's dusty haired but half smooth rump. "Fucked the wife yesterday," he hissed. "I'm just a horny guy."

"I'll say," Cole replied. He didn't know what he thought about fooling around with a married man. It probably wasn't the moral thing to do. At least John was single, or said he was single. Maybe the man lied, hence the lack of a last name.

Then Cole felt the nuzzling of the man's face in his clean crack and the contact of that thick tongue. John was actually better at rimming, or at least liked to go longer, but something about Paul's intensity drove him wild. "Yes," he hissed backing his ass back against the man's munching face. A hard slap hit his cheek as the Head Honcho dove in more eagerly. It was gonna be a quick one, but Ricciardi was a grade-A ass man and could rarely resist a taste of Cole's jock hole.

"Goddamn," the FBI man finally said as he leaned up. Cole could feel that hard beef press against his back as Paul reached over for some lube. Just a squirt, not too much... Ricciardi liked a snug ride.

The man quickly fingere Cole and almost as quickly lined up that fat prick to press in.

Cole's deflowering, the night after his 21st birthday, had been by a very patient man, and he'd lucked out to find a couple of tops who knew how to go slow at first. Paul Ricciardi was the first man to show Cole he didn't always need slow.

That dick popped in now, snapping open the elasticity of the young man's pucker.

"Fuck yes!" Paul growled. He leaned forward again, covering Cole's smooth back with his own meaty furry one. "You feel that kid?"

"God yes," Cole hissed. Maybe it was the rank or the badge, but everything about Paul turned him on and made this FAR easier than he'd ever imagine. He even enjoyed the crude way Ricciardi's bone just barreled in further, past his internal tightness. "Fuck me, man."

That was Paul's cue, his green light. Wrapping an arm around Cole's shoulder and neck, he held on tightly and thrust all the way into the hot stud. Barely taking a rest, he began fucking, hard.

"Oh fuck!" Cole whimpered. He wished he could keep his normally deep voice low, but the pitch rose once Paul reamed him like this. "Oh god, oh fuck!"

A hand clasped over his mouth. Paul wasn't overly verbal today, though he could be. Instead he gripped the kid close and rode him hard. It had been a tough week and he needed a fuck like this to channel his stress.

Each mating like this made Cole wonder if it could get better. His prick was now leaking like crazy on Paul's bedsheets and his muscles flexed involuntarily in the man's strong grip.

THIS is what made him feel about going around behind John's back. Cole wished to god that John could fuck like this, or would fuck like this. The Head Honcho was even less available a man than John, but he outmanned Cole's boyfriend in the sack.

BAM, BAM, BAM. Paul's fat cock was relentless now. Some guys couldn't take it. Cole could, and would. The very knowledge had the FBI big-wig's prick getting slick with his own precum.

Cole concentrated and forced himself to quiet his moans. The hand unclasped from his mouth and moved to feel up more of the ex-soccer jock's lean body.

"You're close," he heard. Paul wasn't asking a question.

Cole forced his voice back to its deeper register. "Yah." He felt light headed now. Before Paul he thought hands-free cums were a myth. They weren't though, and he was about to offer proof again now.

"Oh shit," he breathed in a whisper. His dick jerked and the first spray of precum jetted out, matching what Paul was pushing deeper and deep into his guts with each hard jab.

BAM, BAM, BAM. The fucking was harder and faster, if possible, only Ricciardi was starting to lose his cadence. The man was orgasming now.

Cole's dick now jerked again, and the cum flew out. Seven heavy ropes of young cum being pressed out from within. Cole didn't pass out exactly, but he lost focus, like he'd sucked too many poppers at once.

Paul's body slowed and now rested immobile on his back. A light kiss was the one gesture of affection Ricciardi offered him, ever, but the simple act was more powerful for it. Cole wished he could have experienced his partner's cum more vividly, but the payoff of the simultaneous orgasm made up for it. He and John had done that once.

Paul rolled his muscular, FBI-fit body off his sexual conquest and lazily plopped onto the mattress. He was sweaty and handsome as fuck and his prick still twitched in its wetness, semen oozing out of the tip.

Just as lazily Ricciardi reached over to stroke Cole's side as the younger stud gingerly stretched his legs and lay on his back. "Remind me to thank your boyfriend for the hall pass," he hissed.

Cole had told the Head Honcho that he was seeing someone. He's admitted it to put Paul at ease for a discreet hookup, but he regretted sharing that info now. "He doesn't know, actually."

Paul chuckled. "I thought you said you had an arrangement... but that's cool, kid."

Cole felt embarrassed. "I mean, we don't have an exclusive thing, but I guess I haven't gone into details with him."

Normally the Head Honcho would be getting up, going to piss, showering off, or just slipping on some sweat pants in a clear signal it was Cole's time to go. Instead the man's eyes seemed not to get enough of the 24-year old and his hand moved up to gingerly stroke Cole's cute-handsome face.

"Well, I'm glad this works out for you," Ricciardi said. "I know I come on strong, but you're really fucking hot."

"I know," Cole smiled. He knew his worth, but it was also a joke.

Paul got it, chuckling. "As you can tell, I'm a busy man... but I'd love to see you a little more often. If it works out with you and your boyfriend." For a take-charge man, he seemed surprisingly shy in his request.

"That's be hot," Cole said. Paul Ricciardi didn't kiss as much as Cole would like, almost never after the act itself. But it was hard to give up the man's harder approach in bed and his overall sexiness. "You're really fucking hot, too."

"I know," Paul repeated Cole's joke back to him in perfect timing. "Am I hotter than your boyfriend?" he asked with a wink, then patted Cole's chest. "Sorry, that was my male competitiveness kicking in."

Cole nodded. He wasn't going to give Paul the satisfaction of an answer. Besides he didn't know how he would answer. John was sexy as fuck, too, and reminded Cole a lot of Paul in his stature, build, and appearance. "Maybe I shouldn't admit this but he works for the bureau, too."

"Yeah?" he smirked.

"Yeah," Cole nodded. He was glad to see Paul's laid back side. Maybe being married, the man wasn't bothered by hearing about another man. Lazily, the man's fingers caressed Cole's chest muscle. "John. A field agent," Cole said, opening up. He'd not been able to tell a single other soul about the most important development of his life over the last year. It turns out this DL hookup with a DC big shot gave him the only opportunity. He blushed as he added, "Funny thing is I don't even know his last name. He's super closeted. Always going on about how he's married to the Bureau and doesn't have time for anything else."

"Sounds like my brother Jo..." Paul stopped, his face growing beet red and his fingers pausing in their motion on Cole's naked body. "Jesus Christ, you're not fucking my brother are you?"

Cole was taken aback. The idea was crazy and yet once Paul said, he knew it was possible, even likely. The resemblance wasn't dead-on, but it wasn't far apart either. "I dunno," he stammered. "Fuck."

Paul got out of bed and Cole felt bad. Ashamed but also pissed. This guy was probably overreacting. There had to be a thousand Johns in the Bureau. But judging from the Head Honcho's reaction, Cole worried he'd fucked up a good thing.

Only Paul's expression wasn't anger as he walked back in. He had his phone in his hand. He slid back into bed and held it up. There was a photo of John already, probably taken a year ago at the beach, the agent in chino shorts and a casual polo, barefoot in the sand at sunset.

"Is that him?" Paul asked, like he was interrogating a suspect.

Cole nodded, tears welling at the edge of his eyes. "Sorry, Paul," he muttered. "Fuck, I didn't know."

Paul gave a grimace which was strangely comforting as he set down his phone. "I know you didn't, kiddo." He gave Cole a good look, like he was still trying to process things. "Confirmed bachelor, my ass," he laughed cynically.

"I don't know... he's kept things casual with us. Sometimes I think it's more a fuck buddy thing, you know?" Cole was trying to make it sound better, but the more he talked the more he realized it was sounding worse.

Paul had one last shake of the head. "Well, my brother had good fucking taste... I'll give him that." Then, "maybe you should go, OK?"

His tone was surprisingly empathetic, not mean. Cole could tell Paul was feeling concern that he'd encroached in onto his brother's guy and was processing the fact John was very probably full-on gay. And maybe the Head Honcho was worried how Cole was processing all this.

"Yeah," the ex-jock said, quickly gathering his clothes to put back on.

"Don't worry, kid," Paul said, leaning up in his bed, still naked and hunky looking. "This shit happens. Well, maybe not very often, but it's nothing to get freaked over."

"I'm OK," Cole said gamely. A million thoughts were racing in his mind but one worry in particular.

"But what?" Ricciairdi prompted, able to tell something was bugging the young guy.

"I shouldn't admit this," Cole said. "But I'm gonna miss the sex we've had."

Paul's brown eyes sought his and it was like their connection was a spark of energy. "Me, too, kid, me too."

Cole Walker thought about those words the whole walk back to his apartment.

#drakestories

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joelswritingmistress · 1 year ago

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 6

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Did he just say that? He just said that. Right?

I wondered if I had somehow inserted that last excerpt from Dr. Miller’s mouth into the conversation on my own. Had my mind made it up because I wanted him so badly?

He was smiling now, not at all able to fight it back. I could tell that he was attempting to without avail.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” His voice caused my knees to part under the table. I didn’t know if it was instinctual or if the muscles in my legs had suddenly just turned to Jello but I literally felt myself melt down further into the oversized mahogany chair.

“That, uh..” I toyed with a strand of my hair for a half-a-second in my nervous tic, “That makes me a lot of things.”

“Another round?” The waitress appeared out of thin air and I was about to speak but Dr. Miller responded, with a simple, “We’ll take the check.”

I wanted to stay. When he was so eager to get the check after just one drink I couldn’t fight off the look of discouragement that was written all over my face. I knew what I must have looked like and I couldn’t reel it in. And then I thought about it some more. Maybe he was getting the check because he wanted to go somewhere else.

Like his house. It was wishful thinking.

“Stop looking like someone just shit in your cereal.” His accompanying laughter made me grin. There had to be something up his sleeve. This night couldn’t end with such an obscene, suggestive comment and lead nowhere.

“Didn’t want another drink?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a school night. We both have to be up early.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

Dr. Miller gave a chuckle again and then looked up as the waitress handed him a black, leather case with the tab for two drinks tucked inside. He held up a finger, slipped a one hundred dollar bill inside and then handed it to her.

“I’ll be back with your change,” replied the woman.

“It’s yours.” He looked me in the eye as he spoke to her again and then began rising to his feet as he reached for his coat.

I followed his lead and allowed him to lead us out of the place.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

Was the night really over? On that note? On that red hot amorous note that had been left with a teetering, ‘dot, dot, dot’ next to it. To be continued? Would it?

Stop freaking out! My brain was screaming, shrieking; throwing a fit like a five year old in Toys ‘R Us that didn’t get the toy she wanted to play with. On the outside I smiled, gripped my keys and tried not to stare for too long as I walked beside Dr. Miller.

“You never gave an elaboration to your response,” he said to me once we stood by the driver’s side door in front of the old church.

I looked down and back up. “Should I elaborate?”

“I’d like to know where we stand.” He looked at me with certainty but, again, there was the slightest hint of uneasiness in his posture. Dr. Miller was tense in his shoulders and it traveled up his neck into his jaw as he waited.

“So would I,” I responded, taking a breath. I couldn’t look away from those brown eyes that were swelled black around the pupil. I knew what that meant - at least I thought I did.

“Well, how about this?” He took a step in my direction so there were only a few inches between us. “If you want to discuss it further, I’m opening up my office hours during our regularly scheduled class time on Thursday. Seven-thirty, I’ll walk you into the building, myself.”

I cleared my throat. Of course I was going to go. “Thursday.” I gave a little nod, wishing I had something to say that would affect him as much as he was currently affecting me.

“Email me if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” I said right away. My chest heaved beneath my jacket and I opened my mouth to speak. At first nothing came out but then I finally asked the question that had been on my mind for the past seven or eight minutes, “Was that true what you said?”

“Which part?”

“About the elevator.” I swallowed hard now and Dr. Miller laughed again.

“Save all of your questions for Thursday at seven-thirty.” He took a step toward me and then nodded toward my vehicle, “Now get in your car so I know you’re safe.”

I looked at his lips. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to lean in and see if he reciprocated, but from what I could tell of Dr. Miller, he was a forthright individual. If he wanted to kiss me, he would kiss me. He wanted to tell me about his racy musings when we were alone in the elevator. He wanted me to meet him alone at the school on Thursday. If he didn’t lean in for a kiss that means he didn’t want one.

Yet, I told myself.

I hit the button on my key fob and heard the click as my headlights flickered to let everyone in the immediate area know I had just unlocked the car.

“Goodnight (Y/N).” Dr. Miller gave a pained smile that emphasized the crow’s feet on the outskirts of his eyes.

“Goodnight Dr. Miller.” He didn’t correct me this time or ask me to refer to him as Joel. I knew at least a part of him liked having the title roll off my willing lips to acknowledge his authority over me.

Shutting my car door might as well have been shutting the jail cell. I gave a wave and started up the vehicle before reluctantly backing away from where he now stood on the walkway.

Even as I drove down the road, I glanced in my rearview mirror until I could no longer see his figure there and then finally turned the corner to head towards home.

The next day-and-a-half had me worrying about myself. My behavior felt obsessive. I had inspected every social media outlet in search of Joel Miller but there was nothing. He didn't even have a LinkedIn. That one, I had to say, surprised me.

No Snapchat. No Instagram. No Facebook. Nothing.

For my own senseless reasons it frustrated me. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to see a collection of pictures from his life over the course of the past decade. I decided I was spoiled for having access to just about anyone else's life I wanted to dig into.

Maybe I should put my profiles on private. It was Dr. Miller's casual piece of advice. Anyone could dig into my life and I was too concerned about getting “likes” than I was my own privacy.

I'm a walking cliche of today's pre-thirty generation.

Seeing as though my plan to gain access to Dr. Miller's life fell flat on the pavement, I carefully adjusted the private settings on all of my accounts. It had been a suggestion echoed to me by numerous friends and professionals that I hadn't taken seriously; yet here I was after one fleeting proposition from a man I just met making the meager change to my digital identity.

After work on Wednesday I found myself driving past The Library. My eyes scanned for the black Mercedes and I was actually satisfied in knowing that Dr. Miller wasn't out at the bar - at least when I drove by. It allowed my brain to rest rather than toy with the idea of dropping everything to go search inside for him.

Yes, I was officially obsessing. It felt like a violation of not only Dr. Miller's privacy, but also my own sanity.

It didn't stop me from repeating the action on the following afternoon after work. My amateur investigations weren't particularly thorough, though I assumed his car would stand out if he had been around, especially when my eyes were actively seeking out one specific automobile.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, however. It was Thursday. It was the evening I would be attending Dr. Miller's office hours.

Office hours. I was sure he hadn't actually posted any office hours. I was going to be alone with him.

In all of my years I hadn't had an off-kilter fantasy. My brain had never fancied the idea of taboo love affairs, or men in uniform or any of the typical sexual scenarios that I had heard others speak about.

Now, the idea of letting my handsome, older professor take me on his desk was enough to ignite a fire in every single part of my body - my head, my heart, my soul, my.. everything.

I wouldn't deny him. Correction, I couldn't deny him. I had created the scenario in my mind time after time. It was far too heavy a weight on my shoulders by now to just shy away from. I wanted Dr. Miller in the worst way.

Tori, my roommate, eyed me suspiciously as I exited my bedroom that evening. My clothes were casual, though rather than a sweatshirt and my white Converse sneakers I wore knee-high, brown boots and a tight, gray sweater that revealed just a bit of cleavage.

My ponytail was replaced by perfectly straightened hair and just a tad more than the average amount of makeup I typically sported. Yes, if our roles had been reversed I would have had questions. Unless we were going out somewhere I always slummed it in the most comfortably acceptable clothes I could manage.

“Umm..” My roommate’s eyebrows pressed together, “Do you have a date I don't know about?”

I decided to meet her questions in the middle. “I'm going to a quick study session.” Tori gave me an ‘I don't believe you’ look and so I went on, “And then I'm going out with a guy I met at school.”

My professor, I added in my mind.

Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. But she seemed to believe it and so I smiled when she offered me good luck.

“I'll fill you in,” I lied, knowing whatever happened that evening I would surely be keeping to myself - at least for the time being. Although I loathed the ‘YOLO’ expression, there was a time for everything and so I reminded myself, you only live once.

The drive to Woodbridge had my stomach in knots. I didn't know what was going to happen. Suddenly I wondered if I would even know what to do. I was twenty-seven. I had had sex before - plenty of it actually. I wasn't a nun.. but I wasn't a freak either. What was Dr. Miller expecting? He had certainly been around the block a time or two.

The faintest hint of sweat coated my hairline, a result of my budding anxiety. I couldn't wait, but then again I was so completely out of my league. I had never met a man so sure of himself. The guys I had dated, we were on an even playing field. I felt like a fan in the stands of a rock concert that was just called on stage to sing with Bon Jovi.

Stop putting him on such a pedestal, I told myself; though I truly couldn't help it. All reason had betrayed me.

The black Mercedes was there when I pulled into the lot and I saw Dr. Miller casually step out of his vehicle the second my blinker winked in favor of the parking lot on the left off the main road that cut through campus.

I parked closer to the building and slowly climbed out of the car as he approached. I knew I was a mess. There was no hiding what I was feeling. I was sure he might even be able to hear the thudding of my heart in my chest.

“I offered to walk you in,” he reminded me, to which I nodded as we walked in silence through the threshold of the academic enclosure.

Dr. Miller walked with a purpose toward the elevator in the main lobby, eagerly pressing the down button that would lead us to the basement where his office and our lecture hall sat vacant.

I thought of his words from Tuesday night at the bar as the doors opened and we entered. There were no other people in the building that I saw. There were no cameras in the elevator. As the doors shut with a resounding thump I side-glanced at my professor.

Out of my peripheral vision I could see how tensely straight he stood. His eyes were straight ahead; focused. He didn't blink or move. It almost looked as if he was holding his breath.

Please. I begged him in my mind, though I have to say when the doors reopened and we emerged to the basement level I was disappointed that he didn't immediately try to jump my bones. The opportunity had presented itself for Dr. Miller to do all the dirty things he claimed to have been craving and he hadn't even flinched on the ride. It was okay, now, wasn't it? Now that he knew I was a willing participant.

You're being ridiculous. I was currently questioning my every thought, my every word, my every move.

The stillness of the typically buzzing building heightened my anxiety. It felt as if butterflies were having a rave inside of my stomach. The only sound that gave a mild echo off the walls of the vacant corridor were the gentle clicks of Dr. Miller's shoes.

My temperature felt like it was rising with each door we passed. I counted them to maintain some level-headedness.

One. Two. Three. Four.

When the fifth door came into clear view, Dr. Miller reached a hand into his khakis and removed a ring of keys.

Next to the oversized, wooden door was a black piece of plastic with Dr. Miller’s name etched into it. Below his name was the door number: 007.

Of course it is, I thought, almost smiling and rolling my eyes. The heat returned to my cheeks, however, when my gaze met his from just a few inches away.

I swallowed hard when the silver key eased into the door handle, glancing down for just a second, before regaining his eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation on Dr. Miller's part before he finally turned the key and let the door swing open from a little push of his forearm.

“After you.” His arm extended outward now and the light automatically went on as I crossed through the threshold. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He waltzed in, loosening his tie a bit as he rounded an oversized, espresso desk.

“Umm.. no.” I shook my head, “No I'm fine.”

The corner of Dr. Miller's mouth tipped up in a little smirk. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to a chair across from where he made himself comfortable and leaned forward with both hands folded on top of the desk.

I did as I was told. On the surface I thought I appeared like I had my shit together; like I wasn't imagining him pinning me down on the desk and having his way with me; like I wasn't conflicted about whether my feelings on the matter were wrong or right; or if he could lose his job if something did happen between us.

The man had a way of building tension. The brief moment of silence that lingered was deafening. His stare was almost too much for me. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn't find the words to kick off a conversation.

“I assume you still have the question in your mind.” Dr. Miller finally spoke. “From the other night.”

My chest heaved up and down once from a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I opened my mouth to speak but I was interrupted.

“Dr. Miller!” An overzealous young man waved a stack of papers and held an IPad under his arm as he entered through the open door from the hallway.

I held my breath for half-a-second. It was Trevor Nelson. I had had two classes with him and his sheer presence alone was enough to drive me crazy. Right then, he was the bane of my existence. What was he doing here?

His stammering repetition of Dr. Miller’s name almost led me to a physical eye roll.

“Good evening.” Dr. Miller extended his arm out and Trevor eagerly shook it. “Remind me again of your-”

“Trevor,” he more-or-less shouted, glancing at me briefly.

I could see Dr. Miller was taken off-guard, though it was his organically, suave nature that allowed him to get through the unwanted conversation with ease.

“What can I do for you Trevor?”

“I just wanted to discuss a few points from the reading if you had a moment,” Trevor said, “And seeing as though you sent out an email with office hours I suspected you had the time.”

Office hours. He did send out his office hours.

Fuck! Was I all wrong?

“Yes,” Dr. Miller motioned to a second chair beside me. “I wasn't expecting you,” he admitted, “I sent out a sign up sheet-”

“My Wifi kept malfunctioning,” Trevor went on, cutting him off. “I tried. And that's why I printed some things out. I just assumed you would be here anyway and..” He shrugged and then looked at me for the first time, “I'm surprised to see you here.”

Dr. Miller huffed a laugh now. He looked at me with raised eyebrows as if to study what my reaction would be. What would I say to Trevor’s snide remark?

His very tone and uppity attitude was the precise reason why I couldn't stand him.

“I had questions about the reading, as well.” I remained cordial. There was no way I was about to air out a petty reply that would make me seem bitter or immature in my ways.

“Well.. great. We can bounce questions off one another then.” Trevor forced a smile that, while mum, seemed to have the same whiny tone as his nasally voice.

“I blocked off twenty minute time slots,” Dr. Miller reminded him. “I have another appointment at 7:50.”

My stomach dropped and our eyes caught one another’s. He winked as Trevor took a fleeting peek at his watch with as much disappointment as I knew my face had suddenly been white-washed with.

Despite the wink I couldn't tell if he was serious or lying. Was Trevor really fucking up my twenty minutes alone with Dr. Miller? Was there another student coming in at ten of eight?

As my classmate began his vexatious ramblings I felt a burning hostility brewing in my core. At one point Dr. Miller's foot grazed mine beneath the table but he didn't look in my direction as it happened.

I decided I had to harness my disdain, which I knew was heightened to an unwarranted degree for poor Trevor. I actively told myself to stop being a jerk.

The genuine question that I had from the reading the other night popped into my head. Hallelujah, reason prevailed.

“If it's not too morbid, do you think whoever killed the girl on campus might be suffering from Antisocial Personality Disorder?” It was my first genuine attempt to engage in the conversation.

Typically, I truly did enjoy the subject matter. That night, however, my mind was deep in the gutter. That's why I had to run with the lone, pertinent thought that inhabited my brain.

Dr. Miller turned and a small smile formed on his face. The dimples that drove me crazy were out in full force and I could see he was intrigued by my question.

“Interesting.” He leaned back in his seat and folded one leg over the other. “Depending on the motive I could entertain it as a possibility.”

I smiled wide, enjoying his mild praise.

“That is an interesting question,” Trevor added.

My eyes shifted toward Trevor for a second as he eyed the ceiling as he pondered my question. When I looked back, Dr. Miller had tipped his mouth up in a half-smirk again.

When Trevor came back down to earth, our professor motioned to the clock above me on the wall. “I'm sorry to kick you out.” Dr. Miller looked directly at Trevor now, “I think we've ended this session with a valid question that we can open with during Tuesday's class.” He rose to his feet and extended an arm in my classmate’s direction, “Sit on that idea over the weekend. Bring some notes to class.” He glanced at me and added, “I think that was a great topic of conversation Ms. (Y/LN).”

“Thank you.” I gave a little nod and Trevor appeared appeased as the three of us began a natural shift toward the door.

“Thank you for your time Dr. Miller.” The young man smiled and tucked his IPad back under his arm before vacating the room ahead of me. He turned for a second and asked, “Do you think they'll catch whoever killed that girl?”

My gaze switched from Trevor to Dr. Miller and he sucked his teeth while folding his hands together on top of the table. “I'm no investigator,” he said, “But if you want my honest opinion..” a breath exited through his nose and he finished with a simple, “No. No, I don't.”

“Why not?” Trevor leaned an arm on the door and Dr. Miller laughed while motioning to the clock again.

“Save it for another time.”

Like Trevor, I wanted to know his reasoning; though I didn't dig deeper into it right then. As intriguing and scary as it all was, other emotions were tugging at my core.

“I'll see you in class,” Trevor said, though I didn't know if he was speaking to me or our professor.

I wasn't so quick to leave, but I knew it was time. I hadn't expected Dr. Miller to actually post office hours so it was probable that there was another student about to arrive.

Was it a female student? Yep, sparked jealousy inside of me.

When Dr. Miller didn't immediately make a plea for me to stay, I wandered through the open door toward the hallway.

And then I jumped. It was almost inhuman how fast his arm wrapped around my midsection and pulled me back into the room with him with the ferocity of a wolf mauling a lamb.

A gasp escaped my lips when he turned me around to face him as the door closed and my back planted against it. It was all one giant obscure action; a whirlwind of tension released when our bodies were finally pressed up against one another's and I was left panting.

“I thought you had another-”

His finger found my lips to shut me up. A wicked smile advertised his true intentions and his blackened eyes could have set me ablaze right there.

“You are as gullible as your friend Trevor.”

Before I could respond his lips crashed against mine. They literally crashed leaving the back of my head slamming against the thick wood behind me. I barely felt it.

What I did feel was a rush of adrenaline and desire and a thirst for the man that I couldn't suppress - not when his hands were roaming my body and his tongue aggressively penetrated my lips.

I could barely keep up. I had built the moment up so much and now that I was wrapped up in the middle of this avid tornado of passion it had far surpassed my fantasies.

My arms wrapped high around his shoulders, though he quickly pinned them above my head against the door with one hand. His other hand hastily fiddled in his pocket to remove a set of keys, at which time my cheeks blushed a more fiery red when I saw his arousal peaking the front of his khakis.

My eyes were the only part of me capable of moving freely. The rest of me was a willing prisoner to the force of his body against mine. I never wanted to be released.

Dr. Miller's key slipped into the slot in the center of the doorknob and a click secured us behind closed doors.

With an echoing clank the keys hit the floor and my aching, vacant lips were welcomed back with the immediate warmth of his. When his hand released both of mine on the door my arms instinctively wrapped around him again. I was on cloud nine; in a state of mindless bliss. For the first time, possibly ever, I thought of nothing and just acted without reserve.

It was only when I struggled to breathe that I took a parting breath, allowing air back into my aching lungs. Dr. Miller groaned with the brief separation though it gave him the second he needed to wrestle with the button on my jeans.

In that one swift movement of his fingers he had access to everything I had to offer. I bit my lip in anticipation of him touching me for the first time. Just before my eyes were forced shut I saw his hungry eyes drinking in every part of me.

Dr. Miller's over-pronounced sigh accompanied the sensation of his first two fingers as they made home against my most sensitive areas.

I moaned as quietly as possible, though he made the task more difficult when his lips grazed the area just beneath my ear.

I let out a louder moan when his fingers pushed inside of me and his hot breath landed on my neck, the other cupped over my mouth and my eyes suddenly snapped open.

“Shhh..” Dr. Miller gave a hushed reminder that we weren't exactly in our own private love shack while his fingers continued their exploration. “We wouldn't want Trevor to wander back here because he heard a suspicious noise would we?”

Slowly, his hand was removed from across my mouth. I reached a hand down toward his waist but he swatted it away.

“You're not ready for that yet,” he growled, still speaking in a voice just above a whisper.

I was paralyzed. Paralyzed by pleasure. Paralyzed by the thrill. Paralyzed by my raw attraction to Dr. Miller. At that moment I didn't think I could speak if I tried.

A brand new combination of nervousness and arousal made home within me when his free hand now lingered on my throat. The barely-there pressure added something to what I had been feeling all along.

“You like that?” It was closer to a statement than a question but I choked out a whispered, “Yes,” in response.

There was a shake in my legs that I couldn't relieve. Dr. Miller felt it. There was no way he didn't. I was writhing beneath him against the door as the distance between my parted feet on the floor widened with the spread of my legs.

It didn't take long to reach my climax that was induced by his fingers, his hand on my throat, and the dirty nothings he whispered as he encouraged my impending orgasm.

I struggled to maintain my composure. As the first curse word escaped my lips his hand more forcefully clamped over my mouth again, though all the same his lips found my ear again as he encouraged me to, “Let it out,” in a hiss of whisper.

That was the final push. Fireworks might as well have gone off in my lower half as my muffled moans sounded off against the warmth of his palm. My eyes alternated between open and closed in those final seconds and Dr. Miller's provocative growling voice took my right back to the dream I’d had. This was no dream.

The shot of adrenaline had filtered through my body, numbing my limbs like some type of drug had just been injected into my veins.

Fuck! For several seconds I could only focus on the pleasure as I breathed heavily in and out in an attempt to remain quiet.

When I began to come down off the high. All of my senses began to return and I could hear my own breathing as his generous hand warily crept back out from beneath my damp panties.

A smile formed on my face as he stared at him. I was hot and disheveled. My pants were still down off my waist and as I went to tug them back up Dr. Miller stopped me.

“Oh we're not done yet,” he assured me, glancing over his shoulder toward the oversized desk. When he turned back around he reached for my hand and towed me across the room. I felt like I was floating.

When he made himself comfortable in the oversized chair, I just stared at him. With the two fingers that had just been inside of me he waved for me to come to him and pulled me down in for another heated kiss before whispering against my lips. “Now you're going to get down on your knees and return the favor.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @michilandcof @morallyinept @akah565 @cesspitoflove @brittmb115

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e-dubbc11 · 5 months ago

Note

Okay, so... I would also love to request a song fic from you for our dear Billy boy ❤️

It's Wish - Canaan Cox.

And if... if I may make a little small extra request? Can the reader be plus size? It's not something I've really seen for Billy 🫣❤️

My lovely Lily,

So I listened to this song for about half a day, I love it and it took me awhile to come up with the idea for this but I like it so I hope you do too! ♥️ Thank you for all of the asks you sent me, I appreciate you ♥️♥️♥️

Intuition

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x Plus Size! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, self-esteem issues, smooches

Word Count: 1.7K-ish

Summary: You take a leave of absence from work to help your mother out on the farm after your father gets sick. A handsome CEO buys a cabin in town.

A/N: I’ll link Wish by Canaan Cox at the end and TECHNICALLY this is my last sleepover ask but I can’t say no to my friends when they send me things so I have one more after this for the devilishly handsome, Matt Murdock (see what I did there 😉)

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“They say the guy who bought the Miller’s cabin is quite handsome.” Your mother said, as she counted out ears of corn to put into a paper bag.

When your father got sick, your mother needed help tending to their farm in upstate New York and running the market where locals would come to buy fresh fruit, vegetables, and eggs among other goods. So you took a leave of absence from your job in the city to help her out.

“I’ll keep my eye out, Ma.” You replied with sarcasm dripping from your voice.

She wiped the dirt off of her hands with her apron.

“He told the realtor he just wanted a place to come every so often to relax and be alone. He has some fancy job in the city.” She said.

Raising your eyebrows, you said, “Well the Miller’s place is out of the way so aside from the wildlife, he’ll be very alone.”

After your customer paid for his corn, you headed for the back room. Since it was almost closing time, you started cleaning up and putting things away when you heard the bell ring on the front door. Someone had just walked in.

You couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying but your mother was very chatty with whoever walked through the door. The other voice you heard was smooth like warm honey and you swore you could actually hear your mother blushing out there.

Holding a basket of tomatoes, you walked out from the back and said, “Hey Ma, you want these tomatoes out front or—“

You froze in place with the basket still in your arms.

A sly smile stretched across your mother’s face as she said, “Ah, here she is. Billy this is my daughter, y/n. Y/n, this is Billy Russo. He’s the one that bought the Miller’s cabin.”

He was probably the most handsome man you had ever seen in real life. Billy was tall with dark brown hair and a well-groomed beard. His smile made you weak in the knees and his eyes were like two pools of dark chocolate.

You pulled yourself together long enough to pick your jaw up off of the floor, place the basket on the floor and extend your hand for him to shake. It was a beautiful hot summer day today, so you were positive you looked like an absolute mess with dirt on your cheeks, hair in your eyes, and sweat stains on your t-shirt.

Billy, on the other hand, looked perfect. He had on a gray t-shirt, jeans and what looked like an expensive pair of sunglasses hanging off of the collar of his shirt.

Extending his hand, Billy shook yours and said, “Billy Russo…it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

As if you weren’t warm enough already, heat rose to your cheeks and you knew you would be warm to the touch. “It’s nice to meet you too, Billy. What can we do for you today?” You asked, fidgeting profusely.

Your mother continued to fawn all over him as he replied with a warm smile, “Well they told me this was the place to get all of my fresh fruits and vegetables so for right now I’d like some lettuce and tomatoes, please.”

After paying for his vegetables, Billy left but not before saying “I hope to see you again soon.”

“What? He wants to see you again.” Said your mother, looking surprised.

You dropped your shoulders and rolled your eyes as you turned the sign on the door to “Closed” and locked it.

“Ma, come on. He was just being polite. A guy like that has zero interest in me.” You said with a slight frown.

“Hey, you don’t know that.” She said.

“Oh yeah? Show me a guy like that with a girl on his arm that looks like me. I have thick thighs, a little bit of a belly, and these round Charlie Brown cheeks. Guys like him go out with supermodels Ma, not chubby girls that work on her parent’s farm!” You said with a raised voice.

You’ve always been self-conscious about the way you looked. People would always say “Oh you have such a pretty face.” And you were just waiting for them to finish that sentence with “It’s just the rest of you that looks terrible.” You could only wish a guy like Billy would give you a second look.

“Well I think he likes you.” Said your mother.

You shook your head as you replied, “You’re the only one, Ma. You’re the only one.”

**********

Billy was splitting his time between his cabin and his penthouse in New York City. He would come in weekly for supplies but even after completing his purchase, you found he would stick around to talk to you, even help you wait on customers. He did seem to enjoy talking to you.

“I thought you came up here to relax, Russo. Helping me with my work is not relaxing.” You said.

“It’s funny…I really don’t know how to NOT work, y/n. Plus,I kinda like helping you. This is actually relaxing for me.” He said in a low tone.

“You bought that cabin to get AWAY from work. Go enjoy it!” You told him.

He inched a little closer to you. Your arms were touching as he turned his head to the side and looked down at you with that perfect smile on his face.

“You tryin’ to get rid of me?” He asked, his slight New York accent peeking through.

Without thinking before speaking, you blurted out, “No, I’m not tryin’ to get rid of you, I like looking at you, I mean—uh, well—what? Oh look, a customer! Hi, Mrs. Newman!”

Stumbling over your words, you became flustered as you walked to the front to wait on Mrs. Newman but you could feel Billy’s eyes on you and heard him chuckling a little.

Trying to keep Mrs. Newman in the store as long as possible so you weren’t alone with Billy Russo, you asked her, “Wait! Are you sure you don’t need anything else?! The watermelon is really good this year!”

“I’m all set, dear. Thank you.” She said, walking out the door.

Shit.

“Soooooo, you like lookin’ at me, huh?” He asked with a coy smile stretched across his lips.

With your palm pressed to your forehead, you emphatically said as a joke, “NO! Well I—I don’t understand the question.”

Billy moved in closer like he had before, his eyes looked like two wells of black ink, and he tilted your chin up so he could look into your eyes.

“I like lookin’ at you too, ya know.” Said Billy.

Your stomach began to flutter and you had to clench your thighs together listening to his silvery voice.

But you couldn’t help yourself and said, “Yeah? Well I think you’re full of shit.” And you stormed off into the back room.

Billy chased after you.

“Hey, y/n! What the fuck was that? Why would you say something like that?” He asked.

It was a reflex action. The tears came thick and fast as you tried your best to keep them from spilling over.

You turned to face him.

“You know exactly what I mean, Billy!” You said curtly.

He shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “No, obviously I fuckin’ don’t. Please tell me!”

The tears had spilled over and streaked down your cheeks.

“Guys like you don’t like girls like me, ok?!” You yelled.

Billy looked confused as he replied, “Girls like you…you mean girls that are funny? Girls that are beautiful, and sweet? Someone who’s easy to talk to? Those kinds of girls? If I didn’t like you, why would I be here all the time? I could just pay for my shit and leave like most people do but I stay because I genuinely like you.”

You folded your arms protectively across your chest, trying to figure out if maybe he lost a bet to the guys in town and now he has to try and bang the chubby farm girl but his eyes told you he wasn’t lying.

“Billy…I don’t exactly have guys beating down the door to go out with me. I’m always the funny friend or the chubby one with the good personality. I’m not the one they want. It’s just the way it is.” You said softly.

“Well they’re fuckin’ stupid and it doesn’t have to be that way with me.” He said with a kind smile and he slowly started to walk toward you. “I would love to take you out.”

Your heart was racing as you absentmindedly reached out to play with the fabric of his t-shirt. It felt soft as you were sliding it through your fingers but you couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes because you felt like you might start to cry again.

But he brought your gaze up to meet his anyway. Your entire body was shaking as he pinched your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Billy gently pressed his lips to yours. They were soft and tasted like the peach you gave him a little while ago.

Placing your hands on his chest, you kissed him back. The bristles of his beard tickled your chin as his tongue parted your lips wanting to twist and knot with yours.

It felt like a dream but Billy was real, very very real. A wish that you had asked for over and over again, had finally come true. It was finally your turn to kiss the handsome prince. Or in this case, the handsome CEO.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!”

It was your mother.

“Jeez, Ma!! You scared the crap outta me!” You exclaimed.

“Well pardon me, my darling daughter but I didn’t know you were playing tonsil hockey with the New York City hunk, ok?” She said.

You and Billy started to laugh.

“I can see where you get your sense of humor from, pretty girl.” He said with a wink and a smile. “Come to the cabin with me. I’ll make you my famous BLT.”

“Really? FAMOUS BLT huh?” You asked.

Even Billy’s eyes were smiling at you as he nodded.

Biting back a smile, you replied, “I’d love to.”

And in typical mom fashion, your mother interrupted and said, “See…I told you he liked you.”

You hated to admit it, but your mother had been right all along.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @fictional-hooman @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @rachlovesactors

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x plus size reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #ericca’s summer sleepover 2024

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rogersideup · 1 year ago

Text

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter twelve

Homecoming

Series Masterlist

Previous Part: Courage Next Part: Cardboard Castle

Word Count: 7,220

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

"Alright, just a small pinch." Bruce explained to you before inserting an IV catheter into a vein in the ditch of your arm.

This moment felt a little unreal. Sitting criss-crossed in an armchair in the Avengers living room in their own compound somewhere in upstate New York. Bruce Banner, the fucking hulk, on your left giving you medical attention, and Steve on your right, holding your hand giving you emotional support.

After a whole night of Steve trying his hardest to nurse you back to health with lots of love, cuddles, and bribery in the form of your favorite Chinese food, you just couldn't keep anything down.

Even though you wanted to drink and you desperately wanted to shove Crab Rangoons down your throat, you just couldn't. Half a glass of water and two bites of fried rice had you feeling nauseous and uncomfortable. This time, the discomfort wasn't from trying to out eat a super soldier.

Steve was such a sweetheart, he didn't push it too hard, but he did push for exactly what was happening right now. Some fluid and parental nutrition through an IV to get you right on track for a smooth recovery from what the agents put you through. He could tell that although settling more and more by the minute, your nerves were still off the chart. Your lack of eating made perfect psychological sense, but he still wanted you to feel better.

So he convinced you to let Bruce do this, and you agreed without hesitation. The lack of medical environment and the never ending warmth you've felt from every Avenger you've met thus far made you feel comfortable and brave enough for something like this. Really, it was no biggy.

The IV went in without a hitch, and you barely even felt it.

"Okay, I'm going to flush this out with a little bit of saline. It might taste kind've metallic in your mouth for a few moments. That's normal." He told you while inserting a syringe looking thing into the end of the line going straight to your vein.

Just like he said, you tasted metal. "Ooh" Your eyebrows pinched together. "Weird."

"I think it tastes like expo markers" Steve commented.

"How do you know what expo markers taste like?" Natasha asked, head leaning to the side with a grin.

"I don't know... it just tastes how they smell." He shrugged.

"You're so weird, Rogers." She commented before looking back down at her laptop.

You giggled at her comment before biting your tongue considering he was right next to you.

"Come on, back me up, Sweetie." He asked.

"I wish I could" You laughed. "But I have no idea what you're talking about."

He pouted, Bruce didn't even give him a chance to rebuttal. "You're all set and ready to go. The bag should be done in about an hour then I'll come take the IV out."

"Thank you, Bruce, I appreciate it." You grinned.

"Of course, I'll be back in a bit." He gave you a polite nod before leaving again.

As Bruce left, Nat sprung up from her spot on the couch and approached you and Steve before knocking his hand off of yours.

"Let me have her" Nat said, walking around the back of your chair.

"What the f- Nat!" Steve complained.

"Stealing his girl and he still won't drop the f bomb" She teased, running her fingers through your hair that you washed yesterday but had yet to do anything with.

You had no idea what was going on, but you remembered the first warning Steve gave you about being around the Avengers, there would always be chaos. So you sat there with an uncontrollable smile as Nat played with your hair, and Steve argued with her like a child.

"You aren't stealing anyone from me." Steve whined. "What are you doing? Did you even ask?"

"She has such beautiful hair, I want to braid it." Nat answered Steve, then leaned over to see your face. "Is that alright, Cupcake?"

"That's more than alright" You grinned.

"Cupcake?!" Steve puffed playfully. "I know you're not calling my girl Cupcake."

"How is it any different than sugar cookie?" Nat asked as your cheeks blushed at Steve calling you his girl.

"I don't know, it just sounds patronizing." He complained.

"Do you feel patronized, Cupcake?" Nat asked you, parting your hair from behind the armchair you were sitting in.

"This feels like a trap." You giggled, reaching out to hold Steve's hand again. He accepted it quickly, then gave it a little squeeze.

"Smart girl" Nat smiled.

The three of you chatted away while she sectioned your hair down the middle, and worked on the first of the two french braids she was putting into your hair.

Once it was finished she tied off the end with a hair tie, then worked on the next one on the other side. You guys were so preoccupied I'm the easy flowing conversation that the opening door, and approaching footsteps went unnoticed.

"What is this?" An iconic voice asked, immediately sending a shiver down your spine.

You looked from Steve's laughing face over to the source, none other than Tony Stark. Steve's face fell into an expression that was much more guarded, and you immediately felt uncomfortable.

He warned you about everything. Talking raccoons, blue Cyborgs, bickering, weapons you might see, emergency codes you might hear. You felt prepared for every situation but this one.

You didn't know what terms Steve and Tony were on, but you did know he was one of the most powerful people in the country. Quite honestly, you didn't even know if you were allowed to make eye contact, or speak unless spoken to. So you sat respectfully quiet, and tried to keep your cool.

No one responded to Tony as he pointed to you, a measly little thing sitting criss cross in a chair wearing Steve's clothes that were far too big for you, with an IV in your arm, all while Natasha braided your hair.

"Make a wish foundation?" Tony asked again.

"Oh god, Tony-" Steve scuffed, shaking his head.

"Okay? Another super-person I need to worry about?" Tony's eyes went from Steve's to Natasha's, everyone but your own.

"Well, she's certainly super, that's for sure" Natasha smiled.

"So, no one's going to tell me who you are?" Tony finally asked you, looking at you directly.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so you looked at Steve to help guide you through this. He could see the worried look in your eye, so he took over.

"This is my-" Steve stared fully confident before realizing that you didn't even really have a title in his life.

Girlfriend. No? He never officially asked you to be his considering you both knew he had to leave.

Friend? Kind've, but not really?

Neighbor was an absolute no, you were way more than just a friendly face next door.

He looked at you, and you were thinking the same thing he was. The confused look on his face made you bite the insides of your cheeks to hold back laughter.

"Well I'm certainly a girl, and I'm definitely his friend." You took the pressure off of him. If the two of you were doing down, you would go down together.

"Wait a second," Tony started. "You're sugar cookie?"

"Didn't know I had a reputation around here, but I guess so." You confirmed.

"No way." Tony shook his head. "Let me see your hands"

With reluctance and no confidence whatsoever, your put your hands out to him. He walked closer and saw the scar on your palm.

"Well no shit!" He enthused. "A baker who caught a falling knife, you're real! That's incredibly stupid by the way, you should always let the knife drop."

"Why are you here, Tony." Steve redirected him, you could hear the annoyance in his voice and feel the tension in the room.

"Just here to grab some stuff then I'll be out of your hair." Tony addressed him, then immediately started pestering you again. "So, what's wrong with you?"

"Oh, I just- I was arrested and it's bee-"

"No" Tony cut you off. "I mean which wires are loose in your head that makes you want to play stuffin' the muffin with Rogers?"

"Enough." Steve put his foot down.

"Leave her alone, Stark." Nat sounded from behind you.

"Damn, tough crowd. Reminds me of exactly why I'm leaving for the woods and never coming back." Tony quipped. "Peace out."

You watched as Tony left, and Steve let out a breath of annoyance. You didn't need to see Nat's face to know she was holding back a smile.

Silence fell over the three of you for a little while, it seemed as though Steve was steaming in a lump of his own negative emotions over the billionaire while Nat kept her mouth shut as to not fuel the fire.

In attempts to calm him down without even needing to use your words, while simultaneously comforting yourself, you pulled his forearm onto the arm of the chair you were sitting in. You played with his fingers and rubbed his soft skin.

When the second braid was done, Nat tied off the end then hugged you from behind while excusing herself to get some work done.

Still feeling emotionally and physically exhausted from the past few days, you readjusted with your IV arm out where it should be, but curled your legs beneath you and rested your head on Steve's arm.

You could feel him relax under your touch, and his hand moved up to gently cup the side of your head before placing a kiss to your temple.

"M'sorry about that" Steve apologized quietly. "Really wasn't expecting him to be around today... or ever."

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault." You reminded him. "Never thought I'd be here, but this is definitely a story I'll tell my grandkids one day."

Steve giggled at your comment, the thought of you old and grey with grand kids running around with endless cookies in their hands made him smile. "I never really thought you'd be here either but I'm glad you are."

"As cool as this is though, I can't wait to get back to Greenwood." You explained, feeling homesick. You barely ever left the small town, so being away combined with the three most terrifying days of your life, you were longing for your own house.

"I can't even tell you how much I miss it." Steve shook his head in disbelief. "I miss the bakery."

"The bakery misses you too, she told me every day." You joked.

"I wonder if Bruce can make this IV drip faster so we can leave sooner" Steve pondered.

Unfortunately for Steve, he had to wait the full hour before he could take you home. But luckily, getting you home was a breeze.

You were a rockstar in the Jet, to Steve's surprise, you found in interesting. Tiny bits of your personality were starting to shine back through as you asked him a million and one questions about what everything did on board. He was more than happy to answer every single question, and let you push every single button so long as it didn't interfere with a smooth flight.

Sometimes he found it really easy to normalize these aspects of his life that were completely out of the ordinary to the average civilian. He didn't know if it was because it was a survival tactic of his own, or because he so desperately craved to feel normal even when most of his life was everything but average, but he found so much happiness and beauty in sharing moments like this with you.

You quickly brought him back to earth, and your childlike curiosity and amazement for even something as simple as transportation that was a normal part of life as a superhero reminded him of all the ways his life was enriched.

This time bringing the Jet to Greenwood was a lot more welcomed with a lot more accommodations. The police department cleared Steve to land in their private runway and store it in their hangars. Immediately upon exiting, you were met with the chief and a few officers who came to check in on you and make sure you were okay. And for the first time ever, you saw Steve hold himself high and be greeted with respect by anyone in Greenwood.

The police escorted you two home, which lead to more fascination by you because you had never been in a police car before. Steve reminded you more than once that it was a really great thing that this was a whole new experience for you, but once again he couldn't stop smiling.

Both of you had never felt more relief than when he opened the car door and helped you out. Waiting for you in your driveway was a handful of your friends and neighbors who were worried sick about you, and had heard about your arrival back home.

While each one greeted you with long, tight hugs, hair pets, back rubs, and cheek kisses, Steve watched from a slight distance while he sorted out the rest of the information the police needed to make sure you were as safe as could be.

His heart was happy knowing you were so loved by your community, and when he caught a glimpse of all the flowers and letters and pictures in his own driveway that you had told him about, he couldn't help but to feel loved as well.

After Steve introduced himself to everyone at your homecoming, he got you back in your house safe and sound. Right back where the journey started, you picked your phone up from underneath the couch and plugged it in.

He could see it on your face that you were still drained regardless of the excitement of getting back home. Some of your employees and friends had promised they'd be over at your place tonight with dinner and good company to try and ease up the hardship of the past few days, so now was a good time to leave you alone.

You were thankful to have someone like him who understood your needs without even having to express them, someone who understood the value of processing your thoughts by yourself without being offended.

So he tucked you into your bed, then sat next to your hip before giving you a series of sweet kisses.

"Are you doing okay?" He questioned genuinely.

You grinned and nodded, feeling relaxed and relieved. "thank you for rescuing me, Stevie."

"That's what I'm here for, Sunflower." He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. "I'll be back here in a few hours, but if you need me before then you know where I live."

A smile took over your face, then a thought occurred. "Hey, can I have your real phone number now?"

"Are you hitting on me?" Steve questioned cheekily.

"Of course I am" You confirmed. "What's a pretty boy like you doing all alone in this part of town?"

He shook his head at your antics, before giving you another kiss. "Yes, you can have my real phone number now."

"I'm really moving on up in this world." You celebrated.

"I'll put it in your phone on my way out." He assured you. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay" You agreed as he tucked you in tighter.

"I love you" He reminded you sincerely.

"I love you too" You happily wrapped your arms around him in a goodbye hug, this time you kissed him. "So so much."

He said goodbye then put his real personal phone number in your contacts just as promised before making his way to his house. Checking the inside before dealing with the fanfare in the front, he found something he suspected, the loss of some of his clothes.

But, everything else was just as he left it but tidier. He could tell you had gone in there a few times to clean up and make sure everything was as it should be.

After checking upstairs he made his way back down to the garage to open up the big door to make clearing out the front of his house a lot easier. The pile of broken down cardboard boxes neatly stacked against the wall reminded him that he still owed you a cardboard castle.

Steve opened up the door and spent hours picking up each letter and reading every word, looking at every picture, saving every little shield and stuffed animal that was left for him. Some of the kind words brought tears to his eyes, most of them were words of thanks for what he and the Avengers did and how they continued to be a beacon of hope during uncertain times.

It reminded him of how much had changed since he was in Greenwood last, it looked a little different, felt a little different, but now it was a little different. Because as neighbors walked by they finally made it a point to introduce themselves and apologize that they had never come by before now.

The a few of the neighbors kids even came out to talk to him, their parents pulling them away after asking for a picture. This time around, the eyes on him felt starstruck rather than judgmental.

Although some of it felt hypocritical, he was happy to be back and involved in a community rather than having to isolate himself and hide from the world. Every word, every picture, every dead flower and passing neighbor felt bitter sweet.

That was until he was in the middle of reading another letter he had picked up from the ground and he could hear footsteps approaching behind him. He stopped what he was doing and looked back with a friendly smile, only for it to drop when he was met with Georgia rather than another new friendly face.

She wasn't worth his time, he didn't even want to hear her out after what she did to you. Yes he heard all the awful things she had said about him. Terrorist, war criminal, out of control, selfish, manipulator, but he didn't care. He could let all of that go, in fact, sometimes the avengers needed to be criticized by civilians. But what she did to his love was unforgivable.

So, he ignored her and proceeded to read the letter right where he left off. This one was from a 17 year old named Jack, currently telling him all about how his plans for the future. He wanted to go to school to become a fire fighter and a paramedic as the avengers inspired him to save lives ever since he was just a little ki-

"You killed my husband." Georgia's voice sounded from behind him.

Ah yes, another thing Steve has had to come to terms with. People directly blaming him for the loss of people he had no control over. Guilt ate him alive over the blip every single day, but he was working on it and this simply wasn't helping.

"I'm sorry?" Steve turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

"Michael is gone. He was blipped." Georgia explained.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." Steve monotoned, turning around as to end the conversation before it got out of hand. His heart was beating out of his chest.

"You don't even have remorse." She practically spat. "Do you even care? Look what you've done."

Steve took a big deep breath before he bit his tongue and turned back around to face her. "Last time I checked, I was trying my absolute hardest to make sure nobody had to go through this. My hand isn't the one that snapped."

"How hard could you have possibly been trying? I have to live everyday without the love of my life because the Avengers can never get their act together."

"Well if it's any consolation I lost a lot of people that I loved too." Steve scoffed, heart beating even faster, trying so hard to push down the guilt. "People I loved died trying to keep this from happening. So I'm sorry for your loss, but we really did all we could."

Georgia rendered silent for a few moments as she could unexpectedly see the pain of what he had gone through in his eyes, and the faded scar on his forehead. But it wasn't enough to appease her anger and hatred. Nothing was. "You took my sweet baby away from me." All he did was cock an eyebrow and tilt his head to the side, not understanding who she was referring to. "She was nothing but kind, all she did was mind her own business and run the bakery but you swooped in here and you changed her."

"I didn't take her away from you" Steve shook his head. "You pushed her away. That was your own choice."

"I pushed her away because I already knew what was going to happen and I was trying to spare her." Georgia explained. "Has she even told you anything about what the last men like you did to her?"

"I have an idea, yes." Steve nodded. "I understand and appreciate that you're trying to look out for her, but I would never hurt her. She's a grown woman, she makes good choices, and you went about it all wrong."

"Oh? Really? You'd never hurt her?" Georgia scoffed.

"Do you understand how traumatic the passed few days have been for her because you reported her to the government?" Steve questioned. "They hurt her, you hurt her, and now she has to pick up the pieces all over again. I don't want to hear anything else about how much you care about her, because someone who cares wouldn't cause her even more pain."

"Had you never been here, I would've never had to report her." Georgia pointed out. "And you know what? If I put the pieces of this stupid little puzzle together and I didn't report her, then I would be a criminal too. So guess what? That's also your fault."

"Her criminal record is completely clean by the way, but I did notice that assault charge on yours from a few years back." Steve chirped. "Spitting on an officer is not a good look."

"You killed her mother." She barked. That statement took Steve down a notch... or two. "She just lost her dad not too long ago, and now her Mom is gone. Of course she didn't tell me that, I found out on a Facebook post she was tagged in. Did you know about that?"

"We haven't talked abo-"

"Of course you didn't, and guess what? She's never going to tell you that. You know why? Because she's incapable of healthy relationships." Georgia ranted. "She's going to love you so hard but emotionally shut you out whenever things get hard in her head so much so that it'll suffocate you. I'm the only one who knows what really happened between her and her ex, she didn't even tell her Mom. Wherever her Mom fell flat in the emotional support department, I picked up that slack. And guess what? She doesn't have either of us now. And that's your fault."

Once again, Steve was speechless. He wasn't sure if it was from her words or her audacity, but either way he wanted to throw up.

"I don't care who you are or what you've done. I see past the whole superhero facade. You say you'd never hurt her and she believes it, but I don't because you've already hurt her in the worst way imaginable."

"But you've done nothing wrong, right?" Steve questioned. "You're just this perfect person who's done nothing but improve her life?"

"I know what I did wrong, the difference between you and I is that I can admit that while you sit here and act like you're better than everyone else because you wear stars and stripes."

"Georgia, I've felt unimaginable guilt every single day of my life since I became Captain America." Steve admitted. "Survivors guilt. Guilt that I haven't done enough. Guilt every single time I try to relax. Guilt that I put the kindest person I know in a tough situation. And though I don't need to explain myself to you, you have to understand that I'm human too. I try my hardest to be the best that I can be and make good choices, but sometimes I mess up. Should I have just left her alone at the start? Yeah, probably. But she was the only person I could connect with after almost a whole year on my own. She made me feel like I could keep going when I was about to give up. Yes, she knew who I was, but she chose to stay by my side. Do I regret letting her do that? Absolutely not. Do I feel guilty about everything I've put her through? Every waking moment."

"So why do you continue to be in her life when you could so easily just let her go?" Georgia questioned.

"Because I love her, and the one thing I will never allow myself to feel guilty about is staying with someone I love." Steve explained. "She was loyal to me at my lowest and I intend on being there for her whenever she needs me. So I'm sorry that Thano's blipped Michael, and I'm sorry for unintentionally driving a wedge between you and her, but her and I have enough on our plate at the moment so please just give her some space."

"I don't hate you, Captain Rogers, but I will continue to be your harshest critic."

"I don't need you to like me, and I am my own harshest critic." Steve stood his ground.

"Take care of her, treat her well." She lectured. "By all means, you've got to do better than this."

"I'm not interested in continuing this conversation."

"I'll be praying that she tells you the whole truth about what happened with her last boyfriend, and that her love doesn't suffocate you into insanity like it did to him."

"I know gods, ma'am. Your prayers don't mean anything to me." Steve sassed, throughly annoyed by Georgia's comments. "The only person I feel suffocated by is you."

"So be it."

She walked off back to her own house, Steve let out a puffed breath, trying his hardest to remain composed regardless of the nausea and anger settling into the pit of his stomach.

Luckily, reading the rest of the letters and clearing off the rest of the driveway did wonders to improve his mood. Though he still felt awful for the reality of what he did to you, he felt better nonetheless.

Even better after a shower, a change of clothes, and the promise of you behind your front door when he made his way back to your house half an hour before everyone else said they were going to arrive.

"Stevieeeee!" You cheered enthusiastically, opening your arms wide for him.

"Baby! It's been so long!" Steve cheered with your same enthusiasm, accepting the hug after stepping into your house.

"It should be illegal for a man to look this handsome in a t-shirt and jeans, you heathen!" Your smiley face did wonders for his mood.

"Says you, pretty girl." Steve said before kissing you. "Ooh, you smell so nice."

"Thanks, I tried." You shrugged. "How's it feel to be back?"

You started walking further into your living room, Steve trailed behind you like the big dog he was.

"Feels great" You could hear the smile in his voice. "I cleared out my driveway. Surprisingly, a lot of people are actually happy to have me here."

"I could've told you that, you should see how insane the bakery has been since everyone found out you were hanging out there."

"What?" Steve questioned, wanting you to elaborate.

"A line wrapped around the building every morning" You nodded proudly, gracefully plopping down on the couch. "Everyone from every surrounding town wants to try the same treats Captain America has been eating. We usually sell out around noon, but haven't had the hands or kitchen capacity to keep up with the demands."

"Oh gosh" Steve sat next to you, welcoming your legs being thrown over his thighs as he threw his arm around your shoulder. "I'm glad business is going well, but you and your poor employees must be exhausted"

"I was pretty worried about it when I was in custody, but I talked to the head baker not too long ago. She held down the fort perfectly."

"Has there been press?" Steve asked. "I haven't been checking local news at all, it's been a little overwhelming."

"I understand" You placed your hand on his chest to feel the comforting thumps of his heart against your palm. "Yeah, there has been. A lot of people try shoving cameras in my face or try asking me about you. I try my hardest to just be polite while not saying anything about you. Which is really hard by the way, you're my favorite person and I could talk about you for hours."

"I'm sorry that's happening" Steve sighed, gently running his knuckles down the side of your cheek.

"Don't be sorry" You grinned, reaching up and grabbing his hand. Guiding it to your mouth, you kissed the back of it. "If anything, you've brought in a ton of business and new customers. The store has never been so busy even with the other half of the population still around, so thank you."

"Nope, uh-uh." Steve denied. "The line is wrapped around the building because you're amazing at what you do. You're not allowed to accredit your success on anything other than that."

"I'd be ignorant, and it would be a disservice to not acknowledge everyone who's helped me get to where I am, I certainly didn't do this on my own." You grinned, both of your connected hands now resting in your lap as you squeezed and massaged his lovingly yet absentmindedly. "I think that's a beautiful thing, by the way. I really cherish the love and effort it takes to keep the bakery running. Every person who adds to its success story makes me love it even more."

Steve squeezed your hand and let out a sigh. "You're heart is too good for this world."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." You raised an eyebrow.

"No, it's definitely not." Steve grinned even though the residual guilt was pounding at the forefront of his brain, "Sometimes I just have a hard time believing that I deserve so much grace for everything that I've put you through."

"You're far too hard on yourself, Honey." You told him sympathetically. "You know what you've put me through?"

"Hmm?" He questioned.

"You've put me through one of the best friendships I've ever had. You've put me through facing my fear of being trusting and vulnerable to new people in my life, less lonely hours by myself in the kitchen, more time smiling and laughing, so much more time loving." You reminded him. "But you also did put me through that five mile run that one time and I'll never forgive you for that."

A real laugh escaped his throat, and you smiled in accomplishment. "That was your idea."

"I don't care." You denied with a giggle. "I didn't even know who you were yet, and I signed myself up for a run with Captain America. I deserved a warning... or an Advil... or like, a gallon of caffeine first."

"Well now you know for next time!" His cheeky smile poked through.

"Yeah... next time!" You said super sarcastically. "My point is, I can tell you feel guilty, but I don't blame you for any of it. I love you, I love that you care so much, but I just want you to relax."

Steve closed his eyes for a moment to try and get your reassurance really sink into his brain.

"We both deserve to enjoy each other without all the weird emotional strings and heavy baggage we've had with us before, and now we have a whole month together."

He leaned closer to you and laid a loving kiss on his lips. They were as sweet as him, it lasted a while, but you were perfectly happy to kiss his brain noise away.

"You always know how to make me feel better." He stated, your two foreheads pressed together.

"I'm my happiest when I'm with you." You smiled against his lips.

"I love you, baby" He stated before reconnecting your lips for a little while. The two of you stayed like that for a while, holding each other close and exchanging slow, romantic kisses. But it wouldn't be Steve if his mind wasn't always one step ahead of himself, so he pulled away when a piece of information came to the forefront of his mind. "Would this be a good time to tell you tha-"

He was cut off by the doorbell.

"No, actually, now is a terrible time to tell me." You joked with a giggle as you slowly got up off of him and the couch. "You should hold onto that thought for a few hours while we socialize then just hope you remember it later."

"Yep, I'll just live with this information for a few more hours, no problem." Steve laughed, getting up to follow you, hoping it didn't look like the two of you had been making out for ten minutes.

Company filled your house and warmed the inside of the walls alongside the parts of your soul that had felt so cold and dark for months. Friends, neighbors, and coworkers alike, you all ate dinner together while exchanging stories and laughs.

After dinner everyone squeezed in the living room around the coffee table. Uno cards and wine glasses occupied its surface while everyone sat shoulder to shoulder on the couches and on the fluffy rug. Occasional competitive shouting sounded from the area while a few of the bakers in the group had snuck into your fully stocked pantry to provide a tray of brownies and a batch of warm chocolate chip cookies.

Steve was almost overwhelmed by the sense of comfort and familiarity he hadn't felt in a long time. It was this small town magic he had always heard about. A group of people, most of whom had never met each other before, coming together and truly enjoying each other.

Just for you, there were strangers sitting together on your living room floor, a shared blanket across their laps, and giggling together after a glass of wine. Your sweet employees in the kitchen teaching your neighbor the secret to the perfect chocolate chip cookie with a gooey center and a crispy edge. You snuggled on the couch with your head resting on one of your best friend's shoulder, while Steve made his rounds and got to know everyone as much as he could.

Each one was kinder than the last, and each one asked him questions about himself. They weren't about the Sokovia accords, or what Thanos had ripped away from everyone, they were about his interests and hobbies, what he did to occupy his time, and how long the two of you had been together.

Through a mixed group of people, the one thing they all had in common was their love for you, and that was more than enough for them. Strangers became friends, and Steve finally felt like he might've been part of the small town community.

Steve's mind ran back to that same night you suggested a cardboard castle. You invited him to the neighborhood game night at Georgia and Michael's place, but rather than attending, he watched the lively get together through a double pained glass window and open sheer curtains from across the street. He remembered how isolated he felt after all that time on his own, how badly he craved to be surrounded by people who cared.

And now here he was, inside the four walls, surrounded by people who cared, and right on track to getting all he's ever wanted since his mom passed leaving him on his own at 18 years old. A family.

The Avengers were a little less than put together at the moment, and that wasn't their fault as a collective, but he was happy to have some real, normal people in his life to keep him grounded. The only thing that could've made him feel complete was if Nat, Sam, and Bucky were here.

But he had you, and you were more than enough.

Committed to forcing you to relax and enjoy yourself after all you had been through, he helped the girls clean up the kitchen, refilled wine glasses, and did all the dishes.

Then when the time come and the grip was dropping like flies, he offered rides home just in case anyone was too sleepy or had one glass to much, and stood in the driveway to make sure everyone got to their cars safely in the dark.

Of course it was a safe neighborhood and everyone lived on the block or just a few minutes away, but who would Steve Rogers be if not a protector.

As he leaned over the porch railing watching the cars drive away and enjoying the fresh, crisp air, you came out to join him. You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders around his too, and your arms snaked around his waist in a side hug.

His arm was quick to sling around your shoulders and pull you in closer before pressing a kiss on your forehead. You couldn't help the invasive smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was happy, you could tell he was, and you were happy too.

An easy, simple, small town life with Steve was something you could imagine for yourself. Blanket covered snuggles on the porch under the stars, a house full of people you cared for, the man you loved dearly in your arms.

"How are you doing, my love?" He questioned above you, both of you looking out into the neighborhood.

"Good; happy." You said confidently. "You?"

"Good and happy." He copied your answer.

"Even better now that you finally got a homemade cookie?" You questioned knowing it was one of the things he had missed the most in his time away.

"I think I ate five, no joke." Steve smiled.

"You deserve them all." You squeezed him tight. "Will you stay over tonight?"

"Of course."

"Or we can go to your house? Whichever one you want." You threw out there. "Fist night back, we can be wherever you missed the most."

"Well I missed you the most, so I'll sleep whenever you want to sleep."

"Well we're already here, so might as well." You shrugged. "Hey, what we're you going to tell me earlier?!"

"Oh! Right!" Steve perked up. "So, remember how you like... hid me away for all that time and like... made me so happy and took good care of me and then you were abducted by the government and I yelled at them really bad?"

"Yeah," You laughed at his means of explanation. "I think I remember that."

"Okay good." He smiled. "So I thought the government owed you for A, doing super illegal stuff to you and B, doing them a favor by keeping me safe and sound so I bargained a deal with them as reparations of sorts."

"What was the deal?" You asked, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Well for all the time you spent with me and kept me from losing me mind, I made them pay off your mortgage. So, your house is completely taken care of." He smiled.

You turned to him, shock smeared across your face. "What?!"

"It's done." He reassured you. "No more home loan, you owe nothing else. It's all yours."

"Steve-" tears welled in your eyes, feeling the weight of the world slip off your shoulders.

"And for the time they took you away for the bakery, your business rent was payed off for the rest of the five year contract." He explained the kicker.

"No way." You shook your head.

"Yes way." He nodded in assurance.

"That's too much, you didn't have to do that." A tear slipped off your cheek.

Thought business was doing well again, those few months of being closed were weighing on you. Once again, this was a huge relief.

"I didn't do anything other than get you want you deserved." He reminded you. "All it took was some glaring and some yelling."

"Damnit, Baby. I didn't want to cry anymore!" You playfully yelled at him, very gently hitting his chest before he pulled you against him and you hurried your face in it.

Gently swaying you from side to side, he continued to explain. "I can't imagine life has been easy for you since we met or even before then, but any chance I have to make it better I'm going to take no questions asked."

"But this? This is a lot Steve, that's a lot of money. And the business?"

"Use the rent money to give yourself and your employees a raise. You all work hard, you deserve it." He suggested. "I told you, the Avengers are yours now and you'd get everything you deserve because of what you did. You were here exactly when I needed you. You took good care of me, so now I get to take good care of you."

"I'm so grateful, thank you so much."

"No, thank you." He kissed your forehead before you looked up to kiss his lips.

"Wow, I'm going to sleep so well tonight" You laughed, wiping the tears off your cheeks. "I'm back home, I'm feeling better, I get to sleep in a completely paid off house, and my favorite person is back here with me alive and well. That's all I could ever want."

"What if we throw in a bag of spicy Doritos?" Steve questioned playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"That's too much, that would be an embarrassment of riches." You laughed, a yawn taking over.

"Alright, let's get you to bed, Honey." Steve giggled before kissing you and sweeping you off your feet like a groom carrying his bride through the doorway.

You shrieked before laughing and tightly wrapping your arms behind his neck, peppering kisses all over his face.

Right before bringing you inside and closing the door, Steve caught a glimpse of Georgia staring at them through her window.

Now she was the one watching game night through the windows, watching love after her lover was gone, and living an isolated life away from the people she once loved.

Maybe now she'd understand Steve a little better, everything he had to go through, all the choices he had to make, the extreme isolation through the hardest part of his life.

He made eye contact and gave her a friendly grin, empathizing with the feeling of loneliness. But now he knew better, and now he felt better than he did before.

He would never feel guilty for loving you.

Next Part: Cardboard Castle

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blakelysco-pilot · 2 months ago

Text

These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)

From the Love Letter Series Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The realities of Rosie's choice to reup for a second tour hit hard for Jo when Harry Crosby is granted furlough. She must learn to navigate the ugly emotions that come with the situation while simultaneously being there for Jean who is going through her own set of emotions at her husbands temporary return. With the help of friends, Jo is able to find the brighter side of it all, with a renewed hope for her future. Meanwhile, Rosie must deal with the guilt of his decision.

Read part 7 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

It comes in many forms; jealousy isn’t always the green eyed demon that’s depicted in books and movies. Sometimes, it comes as pain. As sadness. Desire, strangely enough. Jo could feel the emotions taking turns, and after they had all run their course, guilt would take over.

The guilt that she was a terrible friend to Jean, who was over the moon with the news of Harry’s impending furlough. Her best friend who had desired no more than to be in the arms of her husband for the duration of his time away at war, was getting her wish. So then why was she having to remind herself every day to be happy for her? Because it was Harry on his way to New York, and not Rosie? Because she couldn’t understand how after devoting himself to the cause, to signing up for a second tour of duty, didn’t he also deserve a moment of reprieve in the safety of his own home.

The last letter she had received from him had come shortly after the mail that had included news of Harry’s temporary return. It was clouded in sadness, despite his happiness for his friend. She could feel his desire to be home, the emotions palpable on the page. So much that she hadn’t told Jean of the letter. She had simply read it in the quiet of her room at night, hoping to keep her tears from falling too loudly.

Could she stand to be here while Harry was home? To see them reuniting, softly, sweet nothings whispered to Jean in passing, her gentle laughter as Harry pulled her into a hug just because he was close. Because he could. She had decided she would leave for the duration of Harry’s furlough. She could return to her parents for the four weeks, but something in her kept saying that four weeks would crawl if she were to go home. So, she had resolved to call Juliet Thompson in the morning. Her friend upstate was still on summer holiday, and she had a feeling she could use the company as much as she could- John Brady was still being held POW, and whenever the thought crossed her mind, Jo couldn’t help but feel guilt all over again. Rosie was safe in England, and she was beyond grateful for it.

The next morning felt like you could cut the tension with a knife. The days to Harry’s return were drawing near, and while Jo tried her best, she could feel the inevitable dark cloud looming overhead; she had begged for it to not creep in onJean’s good mood, but when she joined her friend for coffee, it seemed it was looming over both of them.

“Sleep well?” Jean looked over from the stove where the coffee was perking, a half smile on her face.

“Alright, all things considered.”

“Humid last night…” Jean mused.

“Slept on top of the duvet again.” Jo half laughed, knowing even if they weren’t tiptoeing around the inevitable, she’d have been a tad grumpy over the heat.

“Me too…” Jean turned, bringing the now finished pot to the table, placing it on the trivet. “Not even a breeze.”

“We want a breeze, we need to go back to Brooklyn, Jean.”

“That’s a hike,” she had set about pouring their coffee, hands staying busy. “Don’t know how you did it for so long before moving in here.”

Jo blanches at the mention of her living there, still not quite sure how to tell Jean that she’s going to be leaving while her husband is home. Guilt, again.

“Jo?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t touched your coffee, are you okay?”

“Oh, yes…no… I’m fine.”

“Yes no?”

“Jean… I think it's best that while Harry is home, I’m not here.”

“What! Josephine, this is your home!”

“When Harry is away, yes, but your husband is coming home, Jean, and that does not require a third party awkwardly bumbling around.”

“You could never,” Jean practically cried from her seat across from Jo. “You would never be an awkward third party to me, or Bing! We both love you Jo.”

“I love you both terribly,” Jo was trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. “But he’s your husband. You both have been apart for so long, Jean. You deserve privacy.”

“But…what if he doesn’t…” Jean burst into tears, the Harry that had left for the war was someone Jean Crosby wasn’t sure she knew anymore, and it scared her.

“Oh honey, no, don’t think that! You know Harry is so thrilled to be coming back to you, even if it is only temporary.”

“I’m not sure what to do anymore… I’m a wife but; I haven’t felt like one in so long.”

“You will both just have to take some time to get reacquainted.”

“And you? Will you go back to your parents?”

“I think I’ll call Jules first, and pay her a visit if she’s up to it.”

“Oh she’d love that!”

“Besides, the idea of four weeks at home with my parents after being here seems dreadfully boring.”

“Your mother would dote on you being home, you know that.”

“Dote or smother?” Jo raised a challenging eyebrow at her friend, their laughter somehow finding a place amongst their tears.

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Jean agreed, knowing that Jo’s mother would undoubtedly be worried from the moment she left the house each day to the moment she came home from work.

“We still have some time before Harry gets here,” Jo gave Jean’s hands a squeeze. “Why don’t you come with me to see Jules, and we can sneak Vika away from the hotel for a day and go shopping.”

“Wonderful!”

“We can get you all sorted out for your husband, Mrs. Crosby.”

The phone call to Jules had been easier than Jo initially thought; already missing John Brady terribly, she understood Jo’s feelings on not wanting to encroach on Jean once Harry arrived, and was happy to have the company of a friend nearby. She was thrilled to know Jean would be accompanying Jo on the journey up, and to make the two days with Jean enjoyable for all, she had called Ruthvika and asked if the three girls could stay at the hotel, promising Vika a weekend of fun and martinis. Jules’ childhood friend had been more than happy to set up a room for the girls, and even happier to know she was included in the slumber party. This would be good; it would be a bit of sunshine after a dark cloud, laughter and friendship, and just what Jo knew she needed.

My dearest Robbie,

My sweetheart, I miss you, and I hope you’re taking care of yourself over there. We’re in quite the heatwave here in the city, and from what you’ve told me, English summers are cooler than here at home, so with that, my love I envy you. It's not all bad, though. Jean and I have taken many trips to Coney Island on the weekends, and we brought your sister with us this last time. The fourth of July fireworks were spectacular as always, and I was so glad Jeannie was able to come with us for that.

I’m sorry to say I haven’t seen much of her since you’ve left, and even less so after I moved in with Jean. She calls on occasion, and I know she’s keeping busy with school. Your mother says she’s trying to distract herself with you being away and so, she buries herself in her coursework. I do know how that feels. Work helps to serve as a distraction during the day, but when the day is done, and Jean and I have both gone to bed, I feel that is when I miss you most. We all miss you something terrible, and in our own different ways.

I wanted to let you know that I’ll be heading upstate for a little while, to spend some time with Juliet and Vika. I must admit, I’m not very proud of myself, but it appears I have a bit of a jealous bug as of late, hearing that Harry is on his way home to Jean for a furlough. So, to make myself scarce and not be in their way, I’ve decided to pay a visit to Juliet for two weeks, before she has to return to her classroom to get ready for the school year ahead. I will go back to my parents for the second half of the time; I do miss them and I would love to see your mother as well.

I think being away from Jean and Harry might be for the best. Please, don’t misunderstand, I cannot wait to meet him, he’s not only my best friend's husband but he's your best friend as well, (we won’t tell Pappy I said that) so that makes him special. But Robbie, what have we done so wrong to not be granted the same good fortune? Why is it not you coming home? You’ve sacrificed so much, giving more of yourself and your life to this damn war, and yet, they can’t let you go, can they? Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t I waited long enough? Your mother and sister, don’t they deserve to have you home too?

I feel so guilty for feeling this way, but I can’t help but want the same happiness and excitement that Jean is feeling. I regret waiting so long to tell you I love you, Robbie. Why did we wait so long? We could have been spending time in each other's arms long before, and yet we were both too stubborn to admit how we felt. Do I sound silly? I’m sure I do, all of this griping and crying when you’re over there fighting and missing home. I should be checking on you and asking how you are, and instead I’m staining this paper with tears and going on about how envious and sad I am.

Please, love, tell me how you really are over there, or I will have to seek out Val for the truth. Has it been terribly difficult now that the invasion has passed and the fighting is well underway? I know you’re working and fighting hard, as are the rest of our friends that are with you over there.

Love, have you written to your mother lately? I know she’s missing you as much as I am, if not more, and would do with knowing that you’re alright. Last week she was worried they weren’t feeding you enough, and had it been anyone else who said that, I may have rolled my eyes, but the way she said it had left me in stitches, Robbie. You know how your mother can be. She comes by at least once a week with my mother to check in on me and Jean, and they bring covered dishes and baked goods that they’ve managed with the rations. I think they’re afraid Jean and I are only consuming martinis. They’re half right, and I will only admit this to you, a chocolate chip cookie does pair best with the infamous Jean Crosby martini.

We are leaving for upstate tomorrow, so I will post this first thing on my way out the door and hope it finds you soon. I’m counting down the days until this war is behind us. Until we can begin our days next to each other, and end them the same way. There is a future waiting for us, I just wish I knew when we could begin living it. Come home to me soon.

My heart is yours forever, with all of my love always

They packed light; still summertime and incredibly warm, they were able to get away with comfortable sundresses, and some swimsuits. They didn’t need much when they were together- Jules had said it’s the company that counts most. Vika had been a lifesaver and secured a room at her family’s hotel for Jo and Jean for the two nights that Jean would be with them before returning home. Not one to miss out, Jules had stayed as well. Squeezing into one of the beds with Vika while Jo and Jean occupied the other, it had been a slumber party just like the night at Jean and Jo’s home. Four friends laughing until their stomachs hurt, it had taken a visit from Vika’s mother to quiet them down, Jean rushing to hide the evidence of martinis that were scattered around the room.

It had been so much fun, that Jo had begun to forget why she had made the journey in the first place; until there were three, and they were waving Jean off from the train platform, two with tears in their eyes. The realization of not knowing when their boys would be home striking hard and fast.

“Two weeks and you’ll be back in the city, right?” Jean looked absolutely riddled with fear as she stood with her bag on the platform, Jo doing all she could to reassure her.

“Yes,” Jo sniffled, wiping at her eyes and trying in vain not to smudge her makeup. “I promise.”

“Please, Jo. Promise you’ll be there to meet Binger.” Jean gripped her hands so tightly, her eyes wild and nervous. The last time she had seen her so scared was when news of Bubbles’ death reached home, and worry for Harry had begun seeping in like a crack in the roof.

“I’ll be there,” she winked. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I’ll ring Jules once I’m back home. Bing doesn’t get in until tonight… gosh I’m so nervous!”

“You’re going to see that man and forget all about how nervous you were. Now go, before you miss your train.”

“Jo…”

She pulled her into a hug so fast, and so fiercely, that Jo barely had a moment to catch her footing before hugging Jean back. This friendship, forged in a dark time, was more than two women finding companionship while their men were away fighting. This was sisterhood, and as an only child, Jo had never known it before. The closest person in her life had always been Rosie, and now that his role in her life had shifted, Jean had seamlessly filled in that space.

“I will see you soon, yea?”

“Yea… yes, yes you will. I’ll have a martini waiting for you.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Jo grinned, pulling back to give her friend a smile. “Now go on, otherwise Harry will have my head for making you late.”

“Your Robbie would never forgive him.” Jean laughed, wiping at her eyes just as the conductor hollered for All Aboard!

As the train pulled away, Jean Crosby waving from the window of the car, Jo felt herself become utterly depleted. The sadness that she had tried to ebb away at home, not divulging all of it for fear of guilt, slammed into her full force, and had it not been for Jules and Vika wrapping her up in their arms, she’d have collapsed on the spot.

“Come now, let’s get back to the hotel,” Vika urged her, gently steering her out of the train station and back towards the car. “Mammi can make us some chai, and we can have a rest.”

“I feel terrible…”

“Terrible, sick?”

“Terrible like I’m riddled with guilt and anger and sadness.”

She doesn’t catch Vika looking over at Jules, knowing that this is more than what Mrs. Patel’s chai can fix, because only Jules knows how she’s feeling, and only Jules can be the one to talk this through with her.

The hotel is quiet when they arrive back, and Mrs. Patel is at the front desk, a smile on her face as she watches her daughter and friends walk in, but the smile soon fades as she sees the look on Vika’s face.

“Did Jean get off alright?” She asks, nerves lacing her normally stoic and motherly disposition.

“She did, Mammi,” Vika replies kindly, joining her mother at the desk while Jo and Jules take a seat on the sofa meant for guests. “Can Juliet and Josephine use the apartment for a little while? I think they…well, Jean’s husband coming home hasn’t been easy for them.”

“Of course, you take them up. I will be behind with some chai and bhel puri.”

“Thank you Mammi.”

The pair on the couch sit quietly as Vika approaches, her voice soft as she speaks to both of them, but her eyes trained on Juliet.

“Jules, why don’t you two go up to the apartment?”

“Is that…okay with your mother?”

“It’s fine,” Vika’s eyes softened at Jules’ worry over possibly invading the Patel’s personal space, the phrase bundled in her simple question. “Mammi is going to bring up some chai and snacks.”

“Oh Vika, that’s not necessary!” Jo turned to her friend, knowing full well that the hotel needed their full attention.

“You and Jules need a moment, and I can cover the desk while Mammi is gone.”

“Yes, now you two go right up, and I’ll follow in a moment.” Mrs. Patel is standing next to them, and suddenly it’s as if their own mothers are there, ordering them to eat.

Nodding, Jo follows Jean upstairs to the apartment, and once inside, she takes in just what it is that makes her friend Vika who she is. The decor, the smells, the homey feel, and photos. It’s all very like Vika, and Jo somehow feels like she’s invading a space not meant for her at all, despite the protests of both Vika and her mother.

“Jules…”

“It’s just us, Jo. You can say whatever you need to.”

“I just,” the words felt trapped, caught in her throat with no way out unless she forced them up and out into the space between them. “I’m so angry!”

“You’re angry at Rosie?”

“So angry! He should be home, he flew twenty five missions. He was safe, and The Brass pulled the rug out from under all of them!”

“So that’s what happened…”

“Everyone after him needed to fly thirty missions, but his crew was safe at twenty five. He could go home, and he didn’t… he stayed… he signed up for a second tour.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s too good, and doing the right thing is what Robert Rosenthal does, and he can’t help himself. People are dying and can’t fight for themselves, so he’s doing it for them.”

“Oh Jo…” Jules rushed towards her friend. Instantly, her arms are tight around her friend as Jo finally allowed herself the chance to let go of everything that had been welling up. Things she knew she couldn’t say to Rosie’s mother, or her own mother. Things that somehow, right now, only Jules could understand.

“Harry getting a furlough…” Jules started, the words dying halfway as she felt Jo shudder a deep breath.

“When Harry got a furlough, I just… I wanted to be happy for Jean. I am happy for Jean! But I also wish it was Robbie coming home instead.”

“Honey, you’re allowed to feel angry about it,” Jules took a step back, taking Jo’s hands and giving them a gentle squeeze, leading her towards the sofa in the living room. “He’s been gone so long, and all you want to do is start a life that this war has put on hold for you, and you can’t.”

“Jean was so happy, and there I am playing pretend happy over coffee and then feeling guilty, while the poor thing, she’s so nervous that Harry won’t feel the same for her-”

“Oh I doubt that!”

“That’s what I told her,” Jo shook her head, the beginnings of a melancholy smile taking hold. “But since Bubbles’ death, Harry’s been…distant.”

“Oh you don’t think…”

“I don’t know. And if Robbie knows anything, he’s not saying.”

Jules was quiet for a moment, taking a seat on the sofa wordlessly. She seemed far off, her mind somewhere else entirely; if Jo had to wager a guess it was on a certain pilot serving the rest of his war as a prisoner in Germany.

“I haven’t had a letter from Johnny in a few weeks…” the words are nothing more than a broken whisper.

“Jules, honey…”

“I know that letters aren’t as frequent now that he’s,” she stopped herself from speaking the rest out loud, Jo not needing to hear it to know what she was thinking. “Olive writes, and promises updates, but I can’t help but be constantly worried.”

“When did you last hear from him?”

“The start of June, and now, August is on the horizon and I’m scared, Jo.”

She’s beside her in an instant, her arms mimicking Jules’ earlier movements, pulling her close and hugging her tight. Somehow, Jo thinks she can will all of their broken pieces back together just by being there for each other, in hopes that if they love their boys enough from a distance, it will help bring them home faster.

“Oh Jules, I’m sure Olive would have written if anything happened.”

“I know,” she sniffled, swiping under her eyes quickly. “No news is good news and all that.”

“And bad news travels fast.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she took a deep and shaky breath, exhaling forcefully to try and clear the fog that seemed to have settled around her. “I just… I miss him so much Jo. I don’t have to explain to you how that part of it feels.”

“We worry for different reasons but we worry just the same.”

The door of the apartment opened then, and both girls looked up through bleary eyes as Mrs. Patel stepped into the living room. She was holding a tray from the hotel, complete with two steaming mugs of chai and a bowl filled with snacks for them. Her gaze, normally hard and all business, seemed to soften at the sight of them. Crossing the room quickly, she placed the tray down on the table beside the sofa before coming to stand in front of them. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a simple white handkerchief, handing it to Jules.

“Thank you Mrs. Patel,” Juliet accepts the handkerchief and gently dabs at her eyes, careful not to get too much of her makeup on the clean, white fabric. Afraid to leave a stain, a reminder of this moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to get this dirty.”

“That is what the washing is for, Juliet. Go on, both of you.”

Nodding, Jules continues to wipe her tears before passing it to Jo, who is in the same state as she is. Quietly letting the pain escape like rivers down her cheeks.

“Thank you for being so good to Ruthvika, ” Mrs. Patel speaks quietly, unsure of what she should exactly be saying, but knowing that she must offer something to her daughter's oldest friend, and now, Josephine. “Remember, we must continue to fight here every day; our own wars, they are painful, but keep hope, both of you, that they will come home to you safe.”

They were words that only a mother could speak. And because only a mother could offer that comfort, when she leaned forward to pull both girls close to her for the briefest of moments, it was the gauze over a wound that had spread so deep, neither Jo nor Jules were sure it would ever heal. Hope, it seemed, would fill the deep, painful space over time, and it would close the gap until one day, hopefully, the wound did not exist at all.

——————————————————————————————————

It felt longer coming home from upstate this time. Jo had attributed that to not having Jean for companionship. But she was in her home, now with Harry, who had arrived in New York safely, two weeks ago. The jealousy had seemed to fizzle and sit on the backburner of her heart now. Jean deserved every moment with Harry; but Jo couldn’t help the sadness that crept in when it was quiet, knowing that Rosie was still over there.

It had been a wonderful two week reprieve with Juliet, but now Jo was back home in Brooklyn. She had called Jean to let her know that she was coming back, and was promptly given a date and time to meet her and Harry for dinner and drinks. She was excited on one hand, to finally meet not just Jean’s husband but Rosie’s closet friend.

When the taxi pulled up to her parents home in Flatbush, she quickly paid the driver after he had pulled her suitcase from the trunk. The gentleman tipped his hat and drove off quickly, leaving her standing on the sidewalk, gaze fixed on the house. With a deep sigh, she made her way up the steps to the porch and pushed the door open. Once in the foyer, she dropped her suitcase to the floor and swiftly removed her gloves and hat, depositing them on the credenza by the door.

“I’m back!” She called, stepping further into the house. She could hear her mother rustling around, before she appeared in the foyer with an almost frantic look in her eye.

“Josephine!” Hugging her tightly, she stepped back, appraising her daughter and sensing the sadness immediately. “Sweetheart, welcome back!”

“Thanks,” she forced a grin, thankful her mother chose not to ask if she was okay. She knew there would be minimal gossip and cocktails that night, however. “Are you okay? Mom, you look worried.”

“You have a visitor. A gentleman is waiting in the living room for you.”

“Oh god, is he, is it… did something happen to Robbie?”

“He says his name is Mr. Lewis?”

“Lewis?” the name rolled over in her mind for a moment, before it dawned on her. “Pappy!”

Jo rushed from the foyer into the living room, any ladylike behavior thrown out the window as she came skidding to a stop in the doorway. There, on the sofa, sat a man who had been described to her in numerous letters from Rosie. The only person she had ever trusted sitting in the Co-Pilot’s seat of Rosie’s fort, and in his own words Rosie’s best friend.

“Hiya Jo!” Pappy grinned, standing from the sofa as he saw her.

“Pappy! Oh my- what are you doing here!”

“Rosie sent me,” he grinned, coming to greet her properly, the pair finally able to put names to faces, more than just a picture on Rosie’s side table on base or a name in a letter. “He thought with Croz home, you might need some cheering up.”

“You came all the way here just to cheer me up?” that couldn’t possibly be right, could it? Had Rosie sent him all this way just to keep her company for the second half of Harry Crosby’s furlough?

“Well, you’re Rosie’s sweetheart, plus Val would give me a wallop if she knew I didn’t come see you when you needed it. She sends her regards by the way, boy, wait till you meet her! Have you met Croz yet? I’m sure he’ll want to meet you too, you’re very popular amongst the Riveters crew you know? We all-”

“Pappy, slow down!” she laughed, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t have to force the sound from her chest.

“Right! Sorry, but I am really glad to finally meet ya!”

“I’m so glad to meet you too.” she grinned.

Guiding him back down to the sofa so they could talk. She just caught her mother peeking around the doorframe, a smile giving way as she noticed Jo’s own.

“How did he even get in touch with you so quickly, the mail takes ages these days!”

“He’s a big shot Major now,” Pappy chuckled. “You know him, he finds a way.”

“He does find a way, doesn’t he…” she mused.

“How have you been doing? Your mother said you were upstate?”

“Oh! Yes, well with Harry home, I didn’t want to impose on them by staying with Jean-”

“Oh right, I forgot about that! Rosie did tell me you had moved in with Croz’s wife!”

“Yes, a few months ago, and we took jobs on the switchboard at the War Department.”

“Look at you! That’s great!”

“It’s been a lot of fun,” Jo nodded, and she realized she rather liked talking with Pappy. “So, when Harry sent the date of his arrival, I went upstate to visit with John Brady’s girlfriend, Juliet.”

“How’s she? Must be worried sick over Brady…”

“She’s handling it as well as can be expected, but she gets letters when the mail is cooperative, and Olive sends mail to her in the inbetween.”

“Cousin Olive,” he sounds almost wistful. “I miss her…”

“Wait, she’s your cousin? Robbie never mentioned that…”

“Well, we’re both Lewis’.”

“Does that automatically make you cousins, Pappy?”

“Sure it does! Make your own family, right? That’s what we’re all doing to get by.”

“You’re right about that. And how have you been doing since coming home?”

“Oh, my Ma is fussing over me one minute and the next she’s praying I meet someone and get married so I can be her problem.”

“Well, this is New York, you never know. Your mother might get her wish.”

“Rosie would love that wouldn’t he, hell, I’d love it if I were closer.”

Pappy stayed all afternoon, happy to chat with Jo and enjoy some lunch with her and her parents, before they moved outside to sit on the front steps. It was just bordering on early evening and the kids who lived on the block were still running through the streets, soaking up every second of the summer they could. The fire hydrant on the corner was spraying water, turning her little corner of Flatbush Brooklyn into a water park.

They had skirted around talk of the war and Rosie in detail, but now the sun was setting and Pappy would have to leave, and Jo wasn’t sure she wanted him to before she was able to ask him what she needed to.

“Pappy, where are you staying?”

“Oh! With Rosie’s Ma actually, yea, just down the block.”

“Of course you are,” she shook her head, a smile on her face at Robbie's generous heart. “You went there first, right? Before coming here I mean.”

“Oh sure, yea I didn’t want her getting worried. She’s sweet, I see where Rosie gets it from…”

“His father was kind. Robbie gets his determination from him; but his heart, his love of jazz, the kind look in his eyes, all that comes from Mrs. Rosenthal.”

“He’s alright, Jo, you know?”

“Are you saying that to placate me, or is he really alright?”

“I mean it, he’s really alright. And he’s not alone either…”

“I don’t like the idea of him flying without you, Pappy.”

“I considered it, ya know?”

“Staying?”

“He told me to go home, in the end when I couldn’t make up my mind, he did it for me.”

“And now?”

“Some days I wish I had stayed, finished what he and I started,” Pappy pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to Jo first, who politely declined. “And then I think of guys like Nash and Speas who didn’t get to come home, and I think I gotta grab it while it’s hot.”

“I don’t resent you for coming home, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I know, I wouldn’t be here if I thought you did.”

“I just always felt like he was safer with you in that plane, and you with him,” she sighed, taking the cigarette from Pappy and taking a long pull. “This damn war.”

“He’d balk at you if he saw you do that.”

“Then it’ll be our secret.” Jo grinned, passing the cigarette back to Pappy.

They sat quietly while Pappy continued to smoke. The playful shrieks of the kids playing filled the companionable silence. She thought of a day when Rosie would be next to her, pressed shoulder to shoulder and her hand in his, possibly watching their own children play in the street.

They had done the same when they were young. Her father and Mr. Rosenthal would pop the fire hydrant open and they would run in the cool water while the August sun beat down on the street, Rosie’s curls plastered to his forehead, his blue eyes rivaling the clear skies they played under. As they got older, he had picked up a paper route for the summers and Jo would ride on the handlebars of his bicycle, much to her mothers dismay, and help him deliver papers to the neighbors before seeking shade on the front porch of her home. Now, she was on the same porch, and the person next to her was doing their best to fill the void of her usual companion.

————————————————————

Pappy had proved to be excellent company, not just for Jo but Mrs. Rosenthal as well. It seemed Rosie’s mother perked up quite a bit at having a young man to dote on as she would with her son. Pappy brought a sense of humor back to their block, and had Mrs. Rosenthal cooking up a storm once again, the need to feed him until her heart's content much as it was before her son left for war.

Jo had been at the house for dinner almost every night, after spending the days taking Pappy around New York City.

The phone had rang in the middle of breakfast, Mr. Harris stood to pick it up, allowing his wife and daughter to continue their conversation. When he stepped into the room with a smile on his face, Jo knew it was for her.

“Josephine, it’s Jean Crosby.”

“Oh! Wonderful, thank you!”

“Jean!”

“Jo! Oh how are you, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, dear, how’s Harry?”

“Oh he’s wonderful…actually that’s why I called.”

“Oh?”

“Is tonight good?”

“Oh, tonight is great actually!”

“Wonderful! Binger will call the Stork Club and reserve a table, is that okay? I know you don’t want to go to Minton’s without-”

“The Stork Club is perfect Jean, thank you. Tell Harry to make it for four.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Pappy’s here!”

“Pappy?!”

“Yes! Robbie sent him!”

“Oh what a sweet gesture! Well I can’t wait to meet him, and I know Bing will be happy to see him.”

Jo could hear Harry Crosby in the background of the call asking Jean who their fourth was for dinner, before she told him to hush while she was on the phone.

“What time tonight, Jean?”

“Seven thirty, unless you want to make it eight?”

“Seven thirty is fine,” Jo agreed. “I’m taking Pappy to Coney Island, but we’ll be back in plenty of time.”

“Where’s he staying?” Jean suddenly asked. “Surely not with you!”

“Oh no, with Robbie’s mother. And boy is she loving it!”

“I bet!” Jean laughed. “Well listen, I’m going to run, because Harry is looking for breakfast and I’m afraid he might burn our kitchen down if I leave him a moment longer. I’ll see you tonight dear, and I can’t wait!”

“Oh me too, Jean! Now go feed your husband, and I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone she went back to join her parents at the table, her toast now a bit cold, but she wasn’t bothered. Not when she had a full day ahead of her.

“Going out tonight?” Her mother grinned.

“Yes, Harry’s making a reservation at the Stork Club for all of us,” she spoke from behind her coffee cup. “I’m so looking forward to finally meeting him and seeing Jean.”

“You and Jean have missed each other,” her father nodded, inserting himself into the conversation. “I could hear it in her voice when I picked up the phone.”

“I have missed her. Please, don’t think I’m not happy to be home with you both, but it's been so lovely living with her.”

“I think it’s done you a world of good with Robert gone. Naturally when he comes home, so will you, but right now, this is what’s best for you Josephine.”

“Your father’s right,” her mother placed a hand over hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Then again, once Robert comes home, hopefully it won’t be long until you two are starting your life together.”

She was halfway through formulating a response when there was a knock at the door; using it as her escape from any more talk of her and Rosie’s future, she quickly jumped up to answer it. Pulling back the door, she found Pappy on the front porch with Mrs. Rosenthal behind him. He was dressed in civilian clothes for the first time since he had arrived, and grinning cheekily at her.

“Heya Jo!”

“Pappy,” chuckling, she couldn’t help but shake her head as he stepped inside the foyer. “Good morning.”

He gave her a gentle hug, before allowing Mrs. Rosenthal to greet her, the older woman scooping Jo up in her arms for a hug, the two of them saying so much without saying anything at all.

“Hello dear,” she grinned, hands still holding Jo’s shoulders as she appraised her. “Did we interrupt breakfast?”

“No more than Jean Crosby did just a moment ago.” Jo laughed, closing the door and guiding them both inside.

“Is she getting on well with her husband at home?”

“Oh yes, it seems that she’s doing just fine.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Rosenthal smiled. “I’ve had some mail from Robert…”

“Oh? Is everything-”

“He’s fine, dear. Missing you, but otherwise fine.”

“Well, I miss him too,” she pouted slightly. “There’s been no mail from him.”

“The letter I got was weeks past the date at the top, so just hold out hope, yours should be on its way.”

“Don’t worry, Jo,” Pappy chimed in. “He’d never forget about ya.”

“Thanks Pappy…” she gave his arm a gentle squeeze, righting her before turning towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

The trio entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Harris already preparing a fresh pot of coffee, her father standing to greet Pappy with a handshake before gesturing for him to have a seat while Mrs. Rosenthal took up her regular spot at their table. It was all very domestic, and not lost on Jo how lucky she was to have the family she did; both blood and chosen.

“Pappy, we have big plans today.” She grinned, sitting back at her place to resume picking at her toast.

“We’ve had big plans all week!” He laughed.

“I’m taking you to Coney Island! Because everyone should be forced to ride the Cyclone at least once in their life.”

“…Forced?!”

“Well, Robbie forces me on it every year, and secretly I love it, but don’t tell him that. So now, I get to do it for you.”

“I’ve heard horror stories about that thing from Val!”

“Oh don’t be a baby, it’ll be fun! Jean Crosby even rode it with me!”

“She did?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Fine… if Jean Crosby can do it.”

All three of the parents in the room laughed as Pappy’s face blanched, the airman taking a cautionary sip of his coffee to settle his nerves. Surely, if Jean Crosby could do it… and he’d hate to have to tell Rosie he chickened out on the Cyclone.

_________________________________

The Stork Club was bustling as Jo and Pappy walked in. He had handled an afternoon on the boardwalk like a pro, and she’d be sure to tell Rosie all about it in her next letter, but now he was back in his uniform and she was dressed for a night out and he was guiding her inside and towards the bar so she could try and locate Jean.

“Oh! I see Croz!” Pappy was waving his arm in the direction of Harry Crosby, and when Jo turned she spotted Jean, on the arm of a handsome man, dressed in the same uniform as Pappy.

“Croz!”

“Pappy! Jean didn’t tell me you were the fourth!”

“Surprise,” Jean grinned, arm still looped through her husbands. “When Jo told me this morning I decided to keep it a surprise.”

“Well, this is great,” Harry beamed, giving Pappy a firm handshake, happy to see a familiar face. “What are you doing in the city?”

“Rosie sent me. He thought Jo might need a friend.”

“And now I have three.” She smiled, Jean now standing with her, the two girls’ arms linked as they watched the boys catch up.

“Josephine,” Harry turned to her, and she just felt Jean nudge her forward to say hello. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you.”

His uniform looked almost identical to the one she had sent Rosie off in at Grand Central all those months ago. Olive green shirt and jacket, tie, khaki slacks, and crush cap. Harry was sporting oak leaf pins on his lapels, along with multiple other citations and pins that he had served long into this war. She imagined that Robbie's uniform looked much the same these days, save for his flight wings indicating him a pilot, while Harry’s was a globe for navigators.

Harry Crosby had big, brown cow eyes, and a gentle smile about him. He was every bit of how both Jean and Rosie had described him; Jean going on about how handsome he was and Rosie describing him as terribly capable but riddled with nerves. He was fiddling with his fingers, his hat tucked under his arm as he watched her step forward. Harry quickly handed his hat to Pappy and pulled her close for a hug, shocking her only slightly before she felt a sense of familiarity and comfort fall over her.

“Thank you, Jo, ” He whispered to her before stepping back. “I can’t say it enough.”

Before she could ask what he was thanking her for, he stepped back, taking her hands and continuing to talk to her.

“You two really have looked after each other haven’t you.”

“That’s what friends do,” she smiled. “And I should be thanking you for doing the same, Harry.”

“Oh, it’s Rosie who looks after me, really.”

“Still, you two keep an eye on each other and it just makes me feel more at ease.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” he grinned, releasing her hands and moving to wrap an arm around Jean’s waist. “Now, let’s go sit and we can exchange stories. Somehow I have a feeling you two girls have gotten up to quite a lot.”

Dinner was delightful, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. Friends, the really good ones, it seemed, were the key to getting through tough times, because they would laugh with you, and let you cry on their shoulder if you needed it. Jo had done just that with both Jo and Pappy, as well as Jules and Vika earlier on. They had let her get it all out, those bottled up feelings, and she felt grateful for it. Lighter and less tense, she was able to enjoy happy moments like this.

She was sitting next to Jean, the pair quietly conversing while Pappy and Harry spent some time catching up on the goings on at Thorpe Abbotts; it was something that both girls knew was meant for their ears only, so they took the time to chat amongst themselves.

“Has it been alright, now that he’s home?”

“We’ve had a lot of good, long talks.” Jean nodded, sipping her martini with a slight frown.

“What? Something wrong?”

“Mine are better.” She rolled her eyes slightly, making Jo laugh.

“Yours are dangerous,” she corrected her friend with a gentle slap to the wrist. “But they are the best I’ve ever had.”

“But yes, Bing and I have done a lot of talking.”

“Just talking?”

“Josephine!”

“Well, he is your husband, I would hope you’ve done more than talk.”

Jean fixes her with a stare, eyebrow raised and mock challenging as she sticks her tongue out in the most Jean Crosby way possible, causing Jo to fall into a fit of laughter so loud, that both men turn to look at the girls. Jean is quick to wave them back to their own conversation, while Jo composes herself.

“Did you have to do that?”

“Yes,” Jean grins. “It’s entirely too fun to watch you fall into stitches like that.”

“Now, tell me,” Jo rights herself again, placing a hand over Jean’s on the table. “You and Harry, you had a good talk?”

“We did. He told me about… her.”

“Oh Jean!”

“There was an affair,” she nods. “A woman in London, and while I understand he was coping with Bubbles, and then all of his friends being captured, Jo, it hurts.”

“It’s allowed to be hurtful and understandable. So much of life is.”

“He said he’s ended it, now coming home if even for a short while, he doesn’t want to see her again.”

“Oh Jean, I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ve listened for months while I cried over his distance, and that’s all I could have ever asked of you.”

“Well, then I should be thanking you too, and apologizing for being such a grump the last few weeks.”

“You were not a grump!”

“I was an absolute grouch, and it was not like me. I misplaced my feelings over Robbie being gone on your happiness.”

“Josephine…”

“Speaking of your happiness,” she grinned. “Looks like he’s trying to catch your eye.”

“Oh, Binger can wait just a second.” she pulled Jo tightly to her, the two women sharing a hug that spoke volumes.

There was no animosity, and no one upping the other. They were best friends, getting through the hardships of war together. Harry would be gone in another few days, and so would Pappy, and they’d both go on together again. There would be days at work and dinners from the automat, weekends with Juliet and Vika up in Victor, and nights spent in the quiet of their house with just the radio on while they sipped martinis. In between all of that, there should be two men to join in the simple moments of their lives, and one day they would be there, it was only a matter of time.

She knew, deep down, Rosie being in England was where he was supposed to be right now. If he had come home, he’d have been restless and unsettled, and neither of them could start a life properly that way. She knew that. As Jean said, we understand but we hurt, and that’s what all of this had been. Hurtful, and confusing but understanding. A part of her life that she needed to go through in order to get to the next part with the man she loved. It was just another chapter, the ticking hand on a clock, a turn around the sun.

Pappy’s laughter pulled the two girls apart, and they found him doubled over while Harry sat patiently waiting.

“Are you finished now?” Harry glared at him.

“No!” Pappy wheezed, reaching for his napkin to wipe at his eyes. “Tell me again how you face planted and Tattie had to put you to bed!”

“Pappy…”

“Oh come on! Croz, that’s funny!”

“Not for the fellas who had to haul me out of Operations.”

“Who did?” Jean posed the question to him casually, already knowing the answer from Val’s letter but wanting to hear her husband admit it.

“Rosie and Dougie…”

“Oh Dougie must have loved that!” Pappy roared with laughter again.

“He grumbled about me being heavier than I look for a few days after I woke up.”

“Slept three days straight through the landings. Only you Croz.”

“Yeah, yeah, only me.” He shook his head, letting Pappy get his licks in while he could before turning the conversation somewhere Jo would appreciate.

“You tell Jo about how Rosie was up in the sky humming Artie Shaw over the radio?”

“He did what!” She crowed, eyes wide in amusement knowing just how much he loved his jazz.

“I hadn’t… that one was rough.”

“You don’t have to,” Jo replied, understanding. “He says a lot of those early flights were rough, so-”

“No, no, if you want me to tell you I will!”

“He conveniently left out how he hummed his way back home, so…”

“It was our third mission, ever. And I won’t go into too much detail but, we ended up alone in the sky, and I guess to distract himself or us, he starts humming.”

“Artie Shaw, you said?”

“Over the radio, all of us heard it!” Pappy chuckled.

“The Chant, right?”

“How did you! Jo!”

“I’ve known him my whole life,” she laughed. “And I know what makes him tick.”

“Well, on that note, how about a dance ladies?” Harry posed the question to both of them, but he and Jean exchanged a quick glance that Jo didn’t miss.

Harry was at her side just as she stood, extending his hand to her just as she caught Pappy leading Jean to the dance floor, the two chatting idly.

“Harry? No, go with your wife, I know she’s missed you.” Jo tried to convince him, but he looped her arm in his and carried on walking.

“Promised Rosie I’d give you a good spin on the dance floor, and while I may have two left feet, a promise is a promise.”

“Oh goodness, Harry, you can tell him we danced, it’s really alright.” She laughed, letting him lead her regardless, Pappy and Jean fumbling along next to them in a fit of their own laughter.

Harry spun her through the upbeat songs, and took Jean in his arms during all the slow ones. They had carried on this way for quite a while, before returning to their table for a drink, both Pappy and Harry having removed their Class A jackets. How they had lasted as long as they had, especially in July, was unbelievable. The Stork Club was beginning to empty out, and as Harry and Pappy flagged down their waiter to settle the bill, Jo and Jean excused themselves to the ladies room to freshen up. With a bustling restroom filled with women reapplying lipstick and powder to their noses, both Jo and Jean were back at their table in no time. Harry and Pappy were fussing over the bill, the two of them doing quick math before placing some bills on the table just as the girls sat back down. Jean gently nudged Harry, drawing his attention to her as she gestured to his jacket with a nod of her head and a gentle smile. His eyes lit up before he reached behind to the jacket draped over the back of his chair, digging into his inside breast pocket, pulling out an envelope that Jo had become very familiar with over the course of the months Rosie had been gone.

“Before I forgot,” Harry handed the envelope to Jo, a smile on his face. “Special delivery.”

The front of the envelope didn’t have her address on it like all the others she had received before. No, this one had Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across the front and the words My Dearest Jo to indicate that it was for her.

“Oh Harry, he sent this with you?”

“He wanted you to have one that didn’t go through the APO review before going into transit,” Harry explained. “You didn’t think Pappy was the only surprise, did you?”

“You’ve been holding on to this the entire time you’ve been home?”

“Well, I had assumed I’d meet you a bit sooner but when Jean told me you were upstate with Juliet…”

“Harry…”

“She explained it to me, and it’s alright. I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t say that,” Harry frowned, placing a hand over hers as Jean and Pappy looked on. “I know that me coming home wasn’t easy for you, and I know that Rosie taking on a second tour has been even harder. I hope you know we all gave him an earful when he signed those papers…”

“I’ve got it on good authority, from multiple sources.” She chuckled, swiping at her eyes to stop the tears.

“Val.” Harry and Pappy said at the same time, the woman’s name punctuated with a laugh.

“She keeps me informed,” Jo grinned. “Thank you, Harry.”

“For the mail?”

“For everything.”

_________________________________

Pappy had dropped her back off at her house after they had all left the Stork Club, before bidding her goodnight and turning to go back towards the Rosenthal home. Turning towards the living room, she expected to see her mother waiting up for her, but found that both of her parents had gone up to bed. With the living room vacant, she pulled Rosie’s letter from her purse before placing it on the table, and removed her shoes before curling up on the cushions. Carefully, she slid her thumb under the back of the envelope, and pulled the paper from inside. Unfolding it, she found Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across, his message to her waiting.

My dearest Jo,

I know that by the time you get this, Croz will already be home, and I hope he’s gotten this to you in one piece, and himself to Jean. I also hope Pappy has gotten there safely and proven good at cheering you up. I thought he might be a nice change in pace for you right now.

Honey Pie, I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt you without even realizing how badly at first, and I don’t know how I could ever ask you to forgive me. I’ve been selfish in staying to fight, when we could be together at home, starting our life. I thought that by fighting, staying here, I was doing the job I needed to keep you safe. It was also selfish, in part, because I thought if I left, I’d be restless. And you didn’t deserve me like that. You didn’t deserve to start a life with someone who felt like he should still be in the fight. As it turns out, I’m restless here most days, thinking of what we could be doing at home.

I’ll admit, when Croz got furlough, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Of course I’m happy for my friend, our friends if you include Jean, but part of me wondered why it wasn’t me. I’ve served twice over now, and yet somehow they can’t see fit to let me go for a few weeks. It’s rough, knowing that he gets to return to his wife, my crew is all home, and the other fellas here have their sweethearts. Sometimes seeing Ev Blakely and Dougie with Val and Olive stings, no matter how good they are and how much they make space for me in their circle. There are others who’s special someone isn’t here, and we lament on occasion, but I'm not nearly close to anyone the way I am with the fellas in Ops, and the Red Cross girls.

I wish you were here with me, in that navy blue jumpsuit slinging coffees with Val and Olive, yelling at us all for crowding the truck, helping to wrangle Meatball until Benny DeMarco comes back. But then, I know you’re safe at home, you and Jean looking after each other, your parents and my Ma all close by. I think that’s where I find I’m more grateful to have you, sweetheart. Safe.

I suppose I should update you on the goings on here, so that you know how our friends are doing as well. Val and Olive are just fine, keeping every fella in line and then some. It’s enjoyable to share an office with Ev Blakely; he’s mostly quiet while we work, unless Val stops by with coffee and a bit to eat for the pair of us. She often joins us for a while before going back to the Clubmobile. The same for Olive and Doug. Those two girls are never far apart, if one’s visiting so is the other. Dougie shares an office with Croz; it stresses him out. Dougie is usually very relaxed, but being office mates with Croz tends to work him up. Helen, Nash’s old sweetheart, has started corresponding with one of the fellas in the Stalag- Charlie Cruikshank. Everyone calls him Crank, but she has a special nickname for him that no one will divulge to us fellas. All I know is, she seems happy, and that’s good, because losing Nash tore her up. Red Cross Tattie is seeing Air Exec Jack Kidd- but no one is supposed to know. Jack’s not that great at locking his door. Poor Doug got an eye- and an ear- full last week. See honey, you’re not the only one who can gossip. I do alright from over here. Oh! Can’t forget Meatball- husky fur everywhere but, when it’s cold out, he’s great for staying warm. We shuffle him back and forget between our racks and the girls so that everyone gets a turn. Turns out, the dog likes sleepovers with the girls best- Val paints his nails with her red varnish! Not sure how much DeMarco is going to like that when he’s back though.

Speaking of our friend Harry, I need to apologize twice, because though I’m sure you know by now, I’ve kept this from you. It was not the easiest of positions to be in, because he trusted me, then again you have stood by Jean this entire time. There was someone in London, and I hope he’s confessed to her by now. He confided in me on New Years, and then Doug and the others saw him with her in London while on a weekend pass. I assume that’s part of what had Doug so stressed out, Croz was using the phone to make calls to her and arrange meetings when days were particularly rough. I hope you know that I would never step out on you, you’re it for me my sweet girl, and you always will be.

I’ve often pondered what our life might be like when this is all over, Jo. It’s a pretty picture that I like to conjure up when the days are particularly dreary. You and me, in a house all our own, with a front porch to sit on, just like we do now, watching the neighborhood kids. Maybe we’ll be watching our own kids play in the street, and I’ll be the dad who’s opening the fire hydrant for them to keep cool in the summer. We’d have our friends, and maybe spend summers at the Cape with them. Go dancing at Minton’s on Saturday’s, or have Jean and Croz over for dinner. Curl up on Sunday’s and drink coffee in bed, spend the day tangled together lazily. I can’t wait for all of those days, honey. I can’t wait.

Promise me you’ll keep your chin up, and that smile on your face. I know it’s hard now, and hopefully, Pappy’s been good company. You’ll have to let me know what adventures you two get up to while he’s there. If you do anything, I’m begging you to take him on the Cyclone. It’s a right of passage after all, and somehow, I imagine it would be quite comical. He’s a good friend, Jo, and he cares about you as much as he does me. He’ll be there to listen when you need it.

I love you honey pie, and I’ll be home soon. I promise. Sending millions of hugs and kisses and all of my love.

Yours forever,

Robbie

His signature and declaration of love were blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over and onto the paper. Holding his letter close to her chest, where it was free from the salty reminders of his absence, only then did she allow the tears to fall. Quiet sobs in the empty living room, praying to whoever was listening, begging, for him to come back to her.

_________________________________

“Mail call, fellas!”

Rosie looked up to find Tattie Spaatz in the doorway of his and Ev Blakely’s shared office, a handful of envelopes in her hands as she leaned against the doorframe. Blakely looked up, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and resting it in the ashtray on his desk before taking the offered mail from her.

“Thanks Tat,” he nodded, passing Rosie’s over to him. “Dougie’s off with Olive so, if he’s got anything you can drop it here, his office is locked.”

“Oh, even better, thanks Ev. See you later Rosie.”

“See ya Tattie…” Rosie half waved as she walked out the door, looking up from the papers on his desk just in time to see her casually stroll into Jack Kidd’s office.

“They’re at it again…” he shook his head, Ev’s laughter filling the silence.

“Yeah well, whatever she’s doing got the bug out of his ass.”

“You sound like Val.”

“Who do you think said it first?” Ev grinned, picking up his mail.

“Anything good?” Rosie nodded towards the envelope in his hands, his own mail resting next to him on his desk.

“My mother, more than likely with a few sentences for me and three pages for her future daughter in-law.”

“Aren’t all our Ma’s like that…”

Blakely didn’t respond, instead leaving Rosie to open his mail while he set to reading from his mother back in Seattle. Slipping his thumb under the back of the envelope, he pulled out a letter written in Pappy’s messy scrawl, but legible at the very least.

Hey pal!

How’s it going over there in East Anglia? Have you single handedly won the war yet, or did Harding tell you to save some Krauts for the rest of the crews? I’m just kidding, I know you’re up in Operations with the other guys, so hopefully the paperwork isn’t putting you to sleep yet.

I’m back at your Ma’s house. Croz and I took the girls to the Stork Club for dinner and some dancing, and before you ask yes, I warned your girlfriend that I have two left feet. She seemed happy to go out, and I think a little relieved to meet Croz. She’s trying really hard to be brave, but pal, she’s ready for you to come home. And don’t worry, Croz delivered your letter- I left her to read it after I dropped her back off at her folks house. You weren’t kidding when you said the same block! She’s practically across the street from your Ma’s house! Oh, and thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here. Your bed is pretty comfy for a big shot Major. That’s payback for having to ride the Cyclone, by the way! She dragged me on that thing, and said that if Jean Crosby could do it I could too. Didn’t have it in me to tell her no, but dear god, how could you make that girl ride it year after year!

I don’t think I need to tell you, but just to make sure we’re all on the same page I’m going to do it anyway. Jo is amazing, and she’s so much more than how you described her. And she loves ya. I mean, she really truly loves ya! That kind of thing isn’t easy to find, so, would ya finish this damn thing and come home to her? She deserves to have at least that much. So do you.

Anyway, take care of yourself Rosie. Give my regards to everyone still over there with ya, especially Cousin Olive.

Your friend and Co-Pilot

Pappy Lewis

The paper fell to the desk with a sigh, Rosie’s head falling into his hands almost as fast as the paper from his grip. How could he be so stupid? Sure, Pappy was a great friend and he trusted him to be the friend Jo needed during Croz’s furlough, but Jo had a friend. She had Jean, and she had the girls here who wrote to her, and Juliet upstate. What she needed was him, and he dropped the ball.

“God damnit…”

“Rosie? You okay pal?”

Looking up, he found Blakely putting his own mail back in its envelope, turning in his chair to face him fully. He deftly pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it quickly, focusing his attention back on him.

“Rosie…?”

“Yea, I’m just…” he swiped a hand down his face with a groan, trying to find the words to actually make sense of it all. He couldn’t. “No, Ev. I not okay.”

“Alright, well, what’s eating at ya?” The smoke billowed from his lips as he spoke, swirling around both him and Rosie. Though he wasn’t a smoker, Rosie found it oddly comforting as it wrapped around him.

“Pappy sent a letter. I asked him to go out and look after Jo while Croz was home, I had a feeling she wasn’t going to take his furlough all that well, and it turns out I was right.”

“Couldn’t have been easy, what, with Croz being home and you-”

“I should be home already, Ev.”

“Do you regret it? Reupping?”

“They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?”

“Jesus, Rosie,” Ev exhaled, turning to knock the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “What did Pappy have to say?”

“He took her to the Stork Club for dinner and dancing with Croz and Jean. She made him get on the Cyclone. I should be taking her to the club for dinner and dancing and dragging her on that damn ride.”

“Pal, I know we all tried to talk you out of it before you went in to see Bennet, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you should have listened to us. It’s not going to change anything.”

“There’s a but coming,” Rosie raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve known you long enough, Blakely.”

“There is a but coming, you’re right. When you do get home, make sure that girl knows how sorry you are, and how much you love her.”

“Gonna marry her.”

“Good, put a ring on her finger. Shit, pal, if I could run away from all this with Val right now, I wouldn’t stop to question it. I’d just go.”

“I’m a bonehead. At least that’s probably the word Croz would use.”

“Want me to call you a bonehead?”

“No, please. I feel bad enough.”

“Don’t feel bad, you can’t beat yourself up too much. You’ll never get out of your own head if you do.”

“Thanks, Ev.”

“I know I’m not Croz, but we're friends so don’t ever feel like we’re not.”

“Sometimes it's easier to talk to him,” Rosie sighed. “His wife isn’t here, Jo isn’t here, we just have that to gripe over. You and Doug…”

“I get it, Val and Olive are here, and it seems like it’s a million times easier, but I’ll tell ya what, there was a time it wasn’t.”

“Bremen?”

“Bremen, and everything before Bremen. Africa especially.”

“Biddick…”

“Yeah,” Ev sighed. “I always worried something would yank me from her too soon. Then Curt went down and I realized I could just as easily have been the one to go down, and leave her without so much as a warning. Jo doesn’t see all of this, so she’s protected. Val sees bodies carried out of the hospital, and most of her friends covered in blood when they’re pulled out of a fort, or limping into Interrogation. I wish she didn’t have to.”

“I see your point. Sometimes it’s not always greener on the other side.”

“It is, and it isn’t.”

“Jo is protected back home, just wish I was there to protect her.”

“Soon enough, Rosie. Soon enough.”

“Thanks for the chat, Ev.”

“Anytime, Pal,” Ev stood from his seat, and clapped a hand on Rosie's shoulder. “Now come on, I’ll buy you a drink at the club.”

“And Val?”

“She’ll meet us later, I think she’s up in Harding’s office working on some stuff.”

Quickly, they shut off the lights and locked the office, leaving their paperwork for the next day. Rosie stuffed Pappy’s letter into his jacket pocket, following Ev out the door and through Operations until they were outside. Neither bothered to attempt to bid Jack Kidd goodnight.

The air was cool, and the lights that illuminated the walkways were just flickering on as they turned towards the officers club, already filling up with replacements spilling from the mess halls, and the odd crew they were friendly with.

“You think he told Jean?” Rosie turned to catch Blakely’s gaze as the other man lit up a cigarette. Realization dawned on him when he figured out what exactly Rosie was hinting at.

“He’d be stupid not to.”

“I only just told Jo, though I’m guessing she had an idea.”

“When did Croz tell you?”

“Remember New Year’s Eve? Before you and Dougie came into the racks with the bottle of Vat 69 I’m still not sure how you got your hands on.”

“Ohhhh yeah!” Ev grinned. “Wait! You knew from then?”

“I did…”

“He’s your guy for this stuff isn’t he…”

“Isn’t Doug yours?” Rosie replied.

“I’m Doug’s,” Ev laughed. “You want good advice, come to me. You want someone to tell you it’s okay to bring a donkey home from Africa, you go to Doug.”

“I will, uh, remember that.” Rosie laughed.

He couldn’t change any of this, and his decision would be something he’d live with for the rest of his life, but support made it easier. Jo had support at home. She had her parents, and his Ma, Jean Crosby and now Juliet and Vika upstate. Rosie had Croz, and though Ev Blakely had always been a friend, he realized this was the first time the two of them had gotten deep and shared the realities of war together. He had envied the man for months that Val was here with him, not realizing just how hard it had been for the woman to watch him fly off and potentially never come back. How rough it was on him to leave her on the ground time after time. To have pulled her through the aftermath of the Africa mission, while his crew had simply stood down and been meant to watch it all unfold.

These were the realities of this war. You missed people, you lost people, you made mistakes and you learned lessons. But, you also made friends, and sometimes if you were lucky those friends became your family. Rosie hadn’t realized it at first, but his family was growing both back home, and here at Thorpe Abbotts, and it all came down to one person.

My dearest Jo…

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

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