#i'm stuck in the airport in chicago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecapricunt1616 · 6 months ago

Text

Eucalyptus (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): You however - were having a horrid time on your solo trip to France so far. You could not believe how mean people were being to you on the simple basis you didn’t know much French, so when you heard a man ask something in perfect French to a customer service attendance and then leave a voicemail in perfect English? You knew who you needed to help you with the stupid customs form you’d been stuck with. You tug your suitcase which unfortunately had a bum wheel, up to the blonde Greek statue esc handsome man, expecting to see a flashy wedding ring (surprising to you you didn’t ) “hi! You speak French! And English.” You said boldly with a kind smile, hoping since he looked to be about your age he would want to help you out.

♡ Chapter Inspo: Eucalyptus has become a wonderful symbol of strength, protection, confidence, and abundance. As such, Australian Aboriginals practiced burning eucalyptus leaves to purify and negate negative energy and saw eucalyptus as a sacred plant. ♡ Summary: Based on ♡this♡ request from a lovely anon, I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy! ♡ W/C: 2,151 ♡ A/N: Oooo 2 posts in one day were on a roll! Hopefully this roll rolls all the way until this next season is out so I can get my inbox ready for the new wave of fans eeee! Cant believe S3 is LESS then one week away!!!! I hope that you guys like this one I'm trying hard to work on my fluff and make it better hehe ♡ Warnings for BTC: None really other then swearing!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

Carmy had passed out from high blood pressure exactly 4 weeks ago now. At that time, Natalie had begged -neigh- demanded that Carmy takes some time off of work in order to both recoup, and relax. Carmy and relax usually wouldn’t go together in the same sentence, but he was being forced - and if he didn’t comply Natalie said she would quit, and he desperately needed her for the books.

So, In leu of taking any real vacation time - he had decided to go to Paris for some culinary inspiration, do a few food tours, take some good notes - become inspired again. He couldn’t lie - at least to himself - it did really help him in regards to his love for creativity. He was feeling a lot more inspired then he was when he had left Chicago, so he counted that as a win.

He had gotten at least half a moleskin journals worth of notes and ideas when he headed back to the airport that fateful Saturday evening to take his overnight flight back to his hometown.

You however - were having a horrid time on your solo trip to France so far. You could not believe how mean people were being to you on the simple basis you didn’t know much French, so when you heard a man ask something in perfect French to a customer service attendance and then leave a voicemail in perfect English? You knew who you needed to help you with the stupid customs form you’d been stuck with.

You tug your suitcase which unfortunately had a bum wheel, up to the blonde Greek statue esc handsome man, expecting to see a flashy wedding ring (surprising to you you didn’t ) “hi! You speak French! And English.” You said boldly with a kind smile, hoping since he looked to be about your age he would want to help you out.

His head pops up, eyes flicking from your face to your chest to your hips back to your face “mmhmm” he hums. “And a bit of danish. What about it?” He countered.

Smart ass you wanted to chide, but - this sexy sarcastic stranger needed to remain in your good graces for him to want to help you, so you bit your tongue and instead replied

“Perfect! This form” you hold it out to him “they just mumbled that I was an American idiot when I asked her for the English version, can you go ask them in French?” You asked. He snorted a sarcastic laugh

“I’m not asking those French assholes shit. I’ll help you fill it out if you want, though” he said, moving his backpack to the empty seat on the other side of him. You giggled a bit and sat down next to him, handing the form over

“I can tell you the information and you can write it in French then, right?” You asked, digging in your fanny pack for a pen since you didn’t know how to ask the customer service for one- which meant they’d laugh or belittle you for doing so.

“Sounds like a deal. Won’t even charge” he teases which made you smile, pulling the pink sparkly pen out and handing it over.

“Alright-“ he clicked, getting started. By the time you both had went through all the questions and gotten to talking you’d found out that you were actually seat mates and were bound to sit together on the entire 8 hour flight back so even if you hadn’t been so incompetent in your French skills, you’d have met anyways.

You’d both been happy you made friendly though, when there was an announcement over the loudspeaker due to severe thunderstorms over the flight path - your flight would be delayed for at least 3 hours. “Well shit” he muttered, causing you to giggle a bit.

“You swear a lot.” You teased and he looked over

“From fuckin Chicago- tellin me Y’don’t swear?” He asked and you shrug, a slight smile on your lips

“Not like you, you swear like a boy” you got up, cropped juicy sweater showing off your pretty lower back tattoo. “I want a drink. You coming or are you gonna keep sitting around looking like a sad Australian shepherd?” You teased, grabbing your suitcase with the bum wheel and nearly rolling your eyes as it toppled over embarrassingly

“Well it looks like you need an escort” he stood up, grabbing the bag with ease by its handle and pressing the rolling handle closed with a smooth click. “What’s your drink of choice?” He fixed his backpack on his shoulders as the two of you walked back towards the shopping and dining area of the Paris airport.

“It’s honestly just my luck it broke on my way home to be honest. Also, I would say something fruity and sweet. Let me guess, you’re a whiskey guy?” You mused, pushing up your sunglasses like a headband as you made your way together.

“Scotch. I could have guessed you were a fruity kinda girl” he said and lifted your suitcase “also what the fuck do you have in here, a ton of bricks?” He teased and you giggle a bit.

“Have you ever met a girl? I needed like a bunch of underwear and shoes and - well actually that’s just my carryon. So it has like 2 outfits in case we get stranded and all my medicines and chargers and shoes. Oh and books! Those stupid assholes. I would have been done with reading my latest If they hadn’t stuck me with that useless form.” You grumbled, hiking your large tote bag on to your arm.

He chuckled a bit “s’you read a lot mm?” He sets the suitcase on an empty seat at the bar and pulls the one next to it out for you, motioning for you to sit down. You smiled a bit at the gentlemanly action, sitting down and getting comfortable

“I guess, well when I have free time really. I’d assume you don’t get much of that working in a restaurant mm?” You flicked over the menu half mindedly. You didn’t drink much, but what the hell you were still on vacation.

“Not really no, well- I can make time. I just haven’t felt a real need to as of late” he said and you felt your heart flutter at the way he was quick to let you know his schedule could be cleared if he had notice for it, you were headed to the same city after all.

“So you live in Chicago too, then. I mean- you work there, living there only makes sense” you look over and he does the same. His eyes were literally piercing. The bluest you’d ever seen before, you didn’t think eyes could be that blue. It made your cheeks feel hot to have them on you.

“Yeah- born’n’raised. Went to uh- well came here, F’school, culinary school. Then went over to Copenhagen, then uh.. California for a bit, then New York- but I’m back in Chicago for the long haul it seems” he nodded the bartender over “just a scotch double straight, whatever you have on the top shelf, and then whatever she’s having- you can keep it open” he handed her his AMEX black credit card and you nibbled the inside of your lip.

He got top shelf, maybe that means you should?

“Uh… yeah I’ll have a gimlet please, with Gin Mare” you slid the menu back next to you and she nodded and went to making the drinks.

“Gin mm, so you’re a light liquor kinda person?” he slid his wallet back in his pocket.

You shrugged “dark liquor tastes like wood most of the time. I dunno how you can stand it” you smiled a bit. For about another hour you two sat and chatted over drinks, before the topic of French hot chocolate came up.

“You’ve never tried it?” He asked, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and a sweet smirk on his face.

“No? Is it something to write home about? I thought it was an American thing, hot chocolate. Is it not?” You questioned and he chuckled more like giggled due to both of your tipsy states

“Hot chocolate is Mexican. But I’ll give it to you cus’Mexicos in North America. Cmon- y’gotta have it before you leave- bartender!!” He waved her down and closed his tab. You frowned when you realized he didn’t leave a tip for her, so you dug a 20 pound note out of your wallet and leave it on the counter under the glass while he collected your suitcase.

While you grabbed your tote bag the bartender scoffed, grabbing the note “Casse-toi! Stupid American” she crumpled it and threw it at your chest.

“Vraiment désolé, Vraiment désolé” Carmy mutters, quickly picking up the note and dragging you out by your arm gently while chuckling quietly as you rapid fire question about what the hell just happened.

“You don’t tip here. Not just at restaurants but bars - anywhere. That’s like- rude to them.” He led you outside the airport, hailing a cab for the two of you easily which you could never seem to do as easily.

“Well- fuck. I didn’t realize! What did she say? Was it mean? They really aren’t afraid to be mean here for some reason. Maybe the cultures just like that” you sigh softly to yourself, trying to take the suitcase from him to put in the trunk but he shrugged you off

“Got it, no worries” he pulled open the door for you. “Also, she just said fuck off, and you know the rest. And I just profusely apologized - even though I wonder what would happen if I just called em a fuckin’ idiot back but I don’t wanna get in a fistfight if it goes that way” he put the suitcase in the trunk and got in after you, telling the man the name of the bistro

“You’ve been in a real fight?” You question with a smirk, buckling yourself in. Your hand brushed his and then was when you realized that his fingers were tattooed. You had been eying the ones on his arms, but hadn’t noticed the others until now. You wanted to hold them, to observe them, to suck on them. He had such pretty hands.

“Yo” he nudged you gently “you good?” He asked and you realized you didn’t even know how long you’d been sat staring at his hands

“Your hands have tattoos!” You said the first thing that came to your mind and he chuckled a bit, holding them out and looking

“They do. Is that alright?” He folded them back in his lap again

“That’s more then alright- can I see them?” You gently took his hand with your manicured one and brushed your thumb over his knuckles. “S O U - what’s that?” You ask gently

“Sense of urgency, how we do everything in a kitchen” the car comes to a stop and he handed them a ten pound note before opening the door and offering his hand to you to help you slide out to which you gratefully accepted.

He led you inside the quaint little cafe helping you get set up at a table with your bags and telling you that he’d be back with your drinks and to just relax so you didn’t have to worry about your belongings since he just had his backpack. He returned with 2 smallish mugs and spoons as well as 2 enormous croissants. “Holy shit-“ you giggle as he set them down

“I know, I know. But these are mostly air anyway! You’ll see, don’t tell me you haven’t had one here - you were gonna leave Paris, without one?” He questioned and ripped part of his off, dunking it in his mug before having a bite and you did the same, mouth dropping at how thick it was.

“See! Told you.”

“How am I ever supposed to go back to regular hot chocolate after this!” You took your spoon, having a bite of the delicious pudding like texture

“I think about that all the time. I can’t have hot chocolate unless I make it this way, and it’s just a pain in the fuckin ass because French cream is a bitch to get out there but I do it twice a year probably” he said and your eyes widen in delight.

“Oh I totally keep forgetting you cook! Well I’ll be commissioning you to make this for me then when we’re back home” you mused and nudge his knee with yours playfully.

“I do cook, and I’d be happy to, you can commission me any time- but… you’d need my number for that, right?” He said and you felt your cheeks heat, heart thumping in your chest.

“I would…and you know having mine too wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“I thought you’d never offer”

Fin

145 notes · View notes

boo8008 · 1 year ago

Text

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 01: Quadriller

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Chapter Summery: Carmen arrives in New York, happy to get away from the disaster of one Berzatto Family Christmas. You and carmen however both seem to be too nervous to talk to each other…for now.

Quadriller (v.) to make criss-cross lines on the surface of food, as part of food presentation

Word Count: 2,821

My Notes bb: I’m sorry its so late tonight but I kept going down rabbit holes on information about actual food journalism and I also noticed I have a habit of explaining a lot and putting in random details that I think are important or cool but again this is my first Fanfiction I'm actually sharing so feedback is welcome. I will tell you now that nothing much happens this chapter save for reader and Carmy being introduced, but I do have a plan on that front its just again I'm overthinking stuff lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

2019 (January)

Carmen:

It was peaceful in the kitchen as Donna cooked over the stove, flipping pancakes and frying bacon as she smoked. Carmen, Natalie, and Mikey were sitting at the table as they all joked and talked about something or another. Donna placed the food on the table and they all dug in, each getting a small stack of pancakes and some bacon. Carmen was looking up at Mikey as he poured the syrup, laughing at whatever he was saying.

As he looked down he was confused, written in syrup, “Fuck You Carmen” was on top of the pancakes.

Carmen looked up feeling panicked, only to see the fork stuck atop the plate of cannoli. He looked around to see the far end of the table flipped over and a car that had crashed through the front room. Mikey was yelling at his mom and a horn was blaring, not loud enough to cover the infinite sounds of a million timers going off behind him, along with a smoke alarm. When he turned around to make them stop all he saw was black billowing smoke coming from the kitchen.

Carmen jumped back to reality as the stewardess lightly shook him. Almost as soon as the plane lifted off the tarmac at Chicago O’Hare International Airport he was out like a light. He spent every second sense Christmas Eve beyond stressed and anxious. He was thankful Michelle and Stevie had agreed to let him come stay with them in New York after the new year.

He hoped they hadn't changed their mind as he crossed into the baggage claim area, only to be greeted by Michelle and Stevie, who was holding a sign saying “BEAR-zatto” with a poorly done drawing of what Carmen thinks is a bear. He chuckled at the gaudy neon pink and glittery sign, happy they went so far as to let him come, let alone pick him up and make a sign.

“Oh there he is, Carmen!” Michelle called, waving him over after finally seeing him. “We were starting to think you bailed on us. How are you? How was your flight? Everything go okay?” She asked, now hugging him before pulling back to look at his face.

“Good, yea, fine, the flight was-the flight was good I slept through most of it,” Carmen said, still hazy with sleep as he rubbed the side of his face.

“Glad to hear it! Beats our flight back. It felt like it was just crying babies and turbulence; couldn't sleep once,” Stevie chimed in, pulling Carm into an awkward side hug thanks to the just-barely-too-big-to-be-comfortable sign and Carmen’s duffle bag and backpack. An affirmative ‘hm’ was all Carmen could manage, unsure how to respond. Lucky for him, Michelle loves to talk and knew how to keep the conversation going.

“So which of these bags is yours?” she asked as the carousel began spinning and (somewhat violently) ejecting bags. “And how do you like your sign? Stevie’s friend made it; she's kinda like his family's Richie but a bit more-”

“Normal?” Stevie finished.

“Exactly, yea, she thinks of that type of shit a lot,” Michelle continued. “She thought it would be a cute thing I guess, said something about how helpful it would be to find us sense we’d stick out and more welcoming than that one.” She gestured in the direction Carmy came from, where he passed a sign with standard corporate text that read ‘WELCOME TO NEW YORK’ and a flat drawing of the city.

Carm was only half listening as Michelle raved on about how the girl did cutesy homemade things all the time and began to ponder why with Stevie, the two knowing the chatter didn’t really interest Carmy as more than background noise. He was on the lookout for his bag which held his prized knifes and chefs whites, just about everything else fit in his beat up duffle and backpack. He would have preferred to keep them with him at all times in an airport just to know they didn't get ruined or damaged in anyway during their transport. But he could also understand why the TSA would say to not bring knifes on a crowded, compact tube that floats in the sky. As soon as he spotted the black metallic cased bag carmen stepped and forward and grabbed it, checking the lock on the side as he stood next to his cousin.

“Jesus Carmen what do you have in there, fucking launch codes?” Michelle asked, seeing the overprotective suitcase.

“My knifes,” was all Carmen mumbled in response hoping it would do. Michelle just shook her head while Stevie nodded, both in disbelief at how weird he was about his tools.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Michelle began, turning to lead the trio out to their car. “She's nice, and she's making us dinner tonight so don't be a dick. She's not a chef but god damn does she make a good baked chicken parm.”

You:

Waking up already today felt nervous. You only had work and dinner with Stevie and Michelle and whoever-the-fuck that you couldn’t remember the name of right now but the thought of work was mixing with it. Having to meet new people was one thing that you saw as dreadful and anxiety inducing; who else could you need to talk to outside of work besides Stevie and Michelle? And having to schedule and deal with interviews with busy high end chefs was another thing. A thing where the problem mostly came when you tried to get things explained in simpler terms than the hoity-toity French or Italian words they chose. Sure you knew what quadriller was but not everyone knew what it meant.

You could understand where they were coming from though in some cases. Mainly the Michelin star worthy ones who put so much pressure on themselves and the chefs under them to deliver perfection for an expensive dish made with the best ingredients. From what you could tell they mainly did it for the people that truly and deeply loved and enjoyed food and would save up to eat at such high end restaurants. It all led to them feeling drained at the end of the day, when the last thing they wanted to do was to explain something they knew so well they’d forgotten it was a name for something.

Luckily today all you had to do was schedule and write a few more paragraphs on your Top Food Trends of 2018 article for your editor to see. You were still working on it and it needed a better name but that wasn't a priority right now, it was mainly getting the bulk of it done and written in words that were more than bullet points and shortened words. And you got off early enough that you had time to run home and hop through the shower before headed to the grocery store on your way to Stevie and Michelle’s. It was the first meal for the new year of your bi-weekly dinners and you knew they probably didn't have much to cook with sense getting back from their Chicago Christmas Trip. Normally Michelle would have stories about someone named Donna doing something crazy and while it was a little funny, when you gave it a seconds thought it made you sad for her family and her that she ended up the way she did. It was something you gotten drunk and emotional talking about with her and she could see your point but that's as much as you could remember of that conversation, besides asking her what the fuck seven fishes had to do with Christmas.

You picked up all the ingredients you would need for chicken parmesan, garlic bread and a tub of gelato, Michelle always had some wine that would go perfectly with whatever pasta so you didn't worry about that. Hopefully the sign you made had gotten Michelle’s cousin’s attention and gotten them out of the airport in a timely manner before traffic hit so you could get a start on dinner as soon as you got there. They had given you a key a year ago so you could get in and start on dinner on days when they were running late, which was often, but you didn't mind as long as you got your fill on non-work related human interaction for the next two weeks.

As you brought in your load of groceries, you saw you were right as far as the low-stocked kitchen. You connected to their bluetooth speakers and started a podcast you'd been meaning to catch up on and got to work. You'd comment on some parts to yourself and got lost in thought on the topic they were discussing and in no time you were putting almost everything in the oven, the bread could wait until 8 minuets before so it was al ready at the same time and the gelato was already in the freezer.

It all seemed perfectly timed as your podcast ended and you were about to start another episode as you heard the front door open.

“God it smells so good!” you could hear Michelle call from the front door. You heard Stevie talking to someone and the sound of suitcase wheels and baggage moving through the front door. Michelle rounded the corner still in her coat and pulled you into a hug. “How are you? How was your week?”

“Fine, not a lot happening in the office so…” you trailed off as you hugged her back. “Got off early enough to shower before I got here.” She pulled back, finally taking off her coat as she headed towards the wine cabinet and Stevie rounded the corner with a beat up duffle bag slung over his shoulder and the neon pink sign you made.

“Hey,” he greeted happily, followed by your name and as best a wave he could manage with a heavy duffle bag on him. “Let me put these down in the guest room and we’ll come actually say hi.” He jet pass the kitchen eager to get the bag off his shoulder and get his coat off and was quickly followed by the third person you still couldn't remember the name of. Cameron? Cory? Conner? Either way he gave you a vague nod of acknowledgement as he rushed pass you seemingly faster than Stevie. He had on a thick wool coat and a baseball cap, but besides that you didn't get a good look at him.

“So should we do the chianti or the pinot noir?” Michelle asked using her mocking tone on the fancy words, bringing your attention back to her as she held up the two bottles.

“Chianti,” you chose. “I like the label more, its prettier.”

“That's one way to choose wine.” she said. She came back over to your side and pulled out the bottle opener as you grabbed the glasses. “Also I'm apologizing now if Carmen’s an asshole about dinner but it runs in the family.”

“Its cool, can’t be worse than Stephen…or you.”

“Oh fuck off,” she said with a smile, pouring the wine. “Who was he again?”

“The guy who wanted to be a ‘chef’ and narrated the whole time I made dinner and couldn't tell me what was wrong with the food besides ‘you just didn't do it right’,” you mocked his dumb voice as you remembered the date. “I mean I know I’m no Gordon Ramsey but I know what I’m doing in general.”

“Right that guy, Jesus your taste in people sucks,” she smiled as she slid the glass to you.

“Yea yea,” you said, taking a sip of your wine as you looked at the timer on the oven and went to put the bread in the oven. “I’d rather have actual input from someone than that shit though.”

“What shit?” Stevie asked walking back into the kitchen, finally relieved of the duffle.

“Vague shit,” Michelle said, vaguely.

“The best kind of shit,” Stevie pulled you into a hug as he finally said a proper hello to you. He turned some to the guy who entered earlier, Carmen you now knew. “This is Carmen, he's a chef, the one I was telling you about with the Noma and stuff.”

“Right, yea, hi,” you greeted, introducing yourself even though Stevie just did it for you, you'd cringe about it later. This is why you don't like meeting new people.

“Hi, your-your the journalist right?” Carmen stuck his hand out to shake yours, and now that he was right in front of you you got a good look at him. Crystalline blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was all mess and curls, he looked tired and anxious. Even his clothing said so; a long sleeve white shirt pushed up to his elbows and jeans both of which seemed rumpled from the flight. You did take note of his tattoos, a snail on his forearm, and a Pyrex measuring cup with the world on the other, you saw on the hand shaking yours the SOU on his fingers.

“Yea food and stuff,” you said, bringing your attention back to his face. All around he was handsome but you could sense the same nerves you had on him. It was a relief when Stevie came back from putting his coat away asking how your Christmas was, saving you both from an awkward conversation.

“Not bad,” you responded. “My parents went to Arkansas for family or whatever and said their sending me some stuff and I got to buy myself a nice dress and no one bothered me over the holiday, an all round a success in my book.”

Just then the oven went off, and you took up Carmen's mumbled offer to get the heavier pan with the chicken and pasta while you grabbed the bread and plates, deciding to come back for the utensils and cheese. Michelle took charge of hers and Carmen's glasses sitting them across from each other as Stevie took his own and the bottle. You had to admit, it felt nice with everyone helping. You came back to the table before realizing you left you own glass, and that you would be sitting next to Carmen and would definitely need it to talk to the stranger.

Finally returning and looking to the table before sitting down you did one last check that everything was there; napkins, plates, forks all checked. The other three were already digging in as Michelle whispered something to carmen that sounded a lot like ‘don't be a dick’. You took one last second and turned on a relaxing playlist for the meal on a low volume and sat down.

“So,” you started. “How was your guys’s Christmas?”

“Shitty.”

“Awful.”

Stevie just frowned and shook his head in response as the other two responded in unison.

“That bad, huh?” you asked, finally serving yourself. Michelle avoided by chugging her wine and Carmen did the same by stuffing his mouth.

“I think its better if we don't talk about it,” Stevie said breaking the silence.

The rest of the meal passed well enough though and everyone seemed to like the gelato with the meal. Carmen didn't talk much, too stuck in his own head thinking about how he had to start looking for a job ASAP. What didn't help were the thoughts of how pretty you looked when he walked in, and especially now that he was closer seated next to you. Your hair and dress styled perfectly with some better suited shoes for the slippery winter weather outside. He quickly talked himself out of pursuing anything with you though, having the small bit of sense to not bring you into his fucked up personal life full of anxiety and stress and pepto. He didn't even know what to say to you now. How would he know what to say on a date? He knew you knew something about food but wasn't sure what exactly it was you knew. What if it was just something to pay the bills and you didn't actually like being a journalist on food? There were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable with anything other than small agreements and answers that were as short as possible whenever he was asked something, and he noticed you doing the same thing.

You did your best to not be awkward with Carmen but you both had a wall put up to keep the newcomer out. If it weren't for Stevie and Michelle talking about their plane rides and new years eve stories your pretty sure it would be silent between the two of you. They tried to get you both involved but it was clear enough that wasn't going to happen… not tonight at least.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

132 notes · View notes

keelt9 · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 4

Masterlist

“And you ran away.” Leah crosses her arms over her chest before taking a sip to her coffee. ”Sorry, sorry, I correct, you’re running away.”

I look at her, pacing one side to the other in the airport. Last night, after Joe's words I felt out of place. I don’t know where I found the courage and I ran to my parents house where I couldn’t sleep and early morning I called her so she could drop me in the airport.

“I’m not running away. It’s been a month out of my house, I…I need to see it.” I contoured my face because it was a ridiculous excuse for her.

“Right. What do you say to your parents? I mean they must be surprised.” Thankfully I found a fly for Chicago avoiding the awkward situation of being stuck in Leah house until night.

“Emergency from work.” I sat next to her, and she put her head on my shoulder.

“It makes sense, you know? I remember my parents freaked out more for the fact that Joe Burrow dropped me in my house than for the fact I arrived in those conditions.”

It’s impossible that I don’t remember anything about it and asking my parents about that night, it’s out of plan.

“Are you all right?” Leah asked but I still don’t have an answer for that question.

So, I answer honestly. “I’m confused, I really want to know, at least how I’m feeling.”

After 5 hours I finally arrived at the building feeling tired and the urgent need to keep my mind busy in other things.

“I’m glad you arrived safe honey, but it's a shame it will be so quickly.” I called my mom as I waited for my dinner.

“I know mom, but I promise I will make a quick runaway after I go with Peter, all right?” She is about to start to tell me the plans of meeting all in Peter’s house when her words were cut.

“Joe, darling…” Shit, shit, and shit.

“Hey, mom, my dinner is here, I have to go.” Like if he could see me through a phone call, I cover my face.

“All right honey, have a nice dinner.” I don’t wait another second and hang out feeling a sensation of relief all over my body.

This isn't going to be easier.

A Friday night my doorbell ring distracts me from the T.V, makes me open the door without even checking who was at the otherside.

“I KNEW IT!” Claire is at my door pointing at me. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

I didn't even know what to say, her eyes making me unable to move. “How do you know?”

Claire scoffed and entered my apartment with what seemed like bags of food.

“Come on! The last video call I clearly noticed that wall.” She means the wall of my living room where you can see a lot of frames with photos about important moments of my life.

Damn it, I walked behind her, resigned. “You better have a good reason for coming back.”

I'm right, she started to take out Chinese food. “I didn't have one.”

Claire stops and turns, grabbing her phone and texting something really fast. “Claire?”

She lifts her hand, stops texting and taking food out. “I ordered wine, it seems like a long night.”

After the second glass of wine I spill the tea, Claire listens all the time, almost choking with my inability to remember a crucial moment.

“You ran away.” Claire sentence putting the last drops of wine on my glass.

“NO!” I cover my face feeling tipsy. “Joe had playoffs and I don’t want to distract him, I mean, after all that’s why he chose didn’t say anything, besides I want to think deeply about what I'm feeling.”

Claire smiles and points at the T.V. “Reason why you watched the game from 3 days ago until now.”

The Bengals lost the playoffs just for a field goal. I couldn't watch the game live, so I decided to wait until it all started to settle down.

“I’m a coward, I know.” I drink my last glass of wine, feeling Claire's soft gaze on me. “5 years ago, I would be so happy, on cloud 9, but now… I don’t know how I’m feeling.”

Claire grabs my hand and smiles at me. “I hate myself for saying this to you; but, only if it helps, you can go to the office a couple of days per week.”

She saw my excitement for going back to work but raised her hand. “A couple of days, I still want you out of the two left months, ok?”

I nod enthusiastically, distracting my mind will help.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Pam ran to me when she saw me enter the office. “Claire will kill you if she sees you here.” She stopped me at my door. “Y/N, for Christ sake, could you rest?”

“Pam, she knows I’m here.” I point Claie talking with the director of the publicity as she saw us, waving her hand.

Pam let down her arms as I walked inside my office. “How do you…?”

“I’m not coming all week, just a couple of days for my two months left, long story.” I sit on my chair looking for my agenda. “I just came for the appointment with the writer and I left.”

Pam scoffs still, she has a smile on her face. “You look worried but with more than 4 hours of sleep a day.” We laugh but the receptionist announces to me the writer is here.

After a brief but educational meeting I learned and understood the point of view of the writer that will help me to guide and concrete with more clarity the ideas that could adjust but don’t lose their essence.

More than a week later, I came back to the office to pick up some papers and supplies that I already ran out of at home.

“Morning, morning.” Pam greeted me with that suspicious cheerful tone and a curious smile.

“Hi.” I shutter but her smile turns wide open and tingles her arm with mine. “What are you doing in your free time? Maybe dating?”

I laughed and I kept walking. “Oh please! Who is the guy?”

“What are you talking about?” I complained, but my office has the answer. There are 3 boxes of chocolates on my desk, each one with a small note.

“Don’t worry, it’s not as intense as it seems, it arrives each 3 days, not all in a single day.” I accidentally let my purse fall causing her to giggle.

“I’m all ears.” Pam sits and spin in my chair as I take the note.

“You’re smiling! Omg!” Pam covers her face clearly excited but I shake my head trying to erase the smile. “Ok, ok, I won’t pressure because maybe you take it against the mysterious one. I’ll leave you.”

I opened one and the smell was delicious, after I took a bite the smell was short compared with the flavor.

“So you see it.” Claire appears in the frame door. “For your question about if he’s being honest, maybe he is.”

I scratch my forehead, this would be easier years ago.

“Yeah, this is not a view I have frequently.” Peter laughs as he hugs me tighter. I never saw my older brother dressed with a customer about an octopus.

“We’re about to recreate a scene from Finding Dory, ok?” Archie perks in the corridor and when he sees me runs wearing what makes all sense, a Nemo costume.

“I’m sorry for interrupting.” I apologize however Archie gives a kiss.

Peter took off his gloves. “I thought you were supposed to call first. Then I thought you won’t come, mom told us about the last minute call.”

We walked inside of his house, me carrying Archie. “Yeah, but I have a few days off, and this weekend seems like the perfect occasion.”

I join their small scene until Archie falls asleep on the carpet, out of energy from running, laughing and screaming.

“Ran out of batteries.” Nora picked him up and took him to his room.

“Italian for dinner?” Peter asked, already picking his phone, knowing my answer is always yes.

We have a good time at the dinner talking about old memories; Nora and Peter built a photo album, opposite me who hangs it in the walls, they choose to have them in a book, one place for a lot of memories.

A few ones probably took from our parents home without their fully consented.

One especially caught my attention. “You said you didn't pass to Cincinnati the day of my graduation.” Peter observed the same picture.

My family has nice clothes and a big smile on their faces with a 3 different bouquet of flowers and a small fluffy toy with a graduation cap, clearly my graduation from college, although Joe is next to them.

“We don’t.” He picked up my plate, with total calm. “We take a flight from Chicago to here.”

I blink looking again at the photo searching for a sign that I’m seeing something wrong. That photo can’t actually be from my graduation in Chicago.

“I thought that’s what made you become mad at Joe.” Peter makes me realize that I'm not seeing wrong.

“Joe went?” I turn around the pages like if I could find something else.

“Of course, he left before you found us, apparently he was running out of time.” I’m speechless. “Like the first time you present your first book as editor, he again was running out of time.”

Nora joins the conversation after she sets all for us to have a coffee. “That guy seems to have a problem with setting a proper schedule.”

“He was there?” My question apparently was so dumb because they giggled and answered in unison.

“Of course!”

Archie and I were in his swings at his backyard just enjoying the breeze and the sunlight. It was a cold but sunny Sunday afternoon.

“Can I ask you something aunty?” Archie asked, gripping the swing, I nod and he takes a deep breath like he’s about to ask something about life or death. “You don’t want to be Joe's friend anymore?”

I giggle at the innocence of his questions. “Because believe me, I’m telling you the truth, Joe misses being your friend.”

“How do you know that?” Archie swings higher, giggling.

“Because I asked him, it’s obvious! Dad told me grandma always told him, "If you want to know something just ask, there's nothing wrong with asking.” Archie rolls his eyes.

Mom always repeats to us that everytime, I bet it was when she felt overwhelmed when we were kids.

“Who told you we were friends in the first place?” Archie thinks for a second, I’m fascinated by the cleverness of this little boy.

“Well, if you’re not friends then you were a couple, like mom and dad!” I choke with my own words and cough. “You’re in his lockscreen aunt! He told me it isn't a recent photo, but he found you endearing in that.”

It’s the weekend of leaving Y/N speechless at the third sentence.

“I asked him why he didn't take a new one and he told me, he wants but friends sometimes split, and more if you do something dumb as he did it to you.” I swing a little bit. “He thinks you’re absolutely amazing, probably he didn’t know how to say it.”

I laugh and stand, extending my hand for him to pick it. “Ok big boy, let’s end this, we better help your parents with dinner.” Archie jumps and grabs my hand, unable to accept my lack of answer.

“I’m telling you the truth!” I laugh and we keep walking. “AUNT!”

“What do you know that I don't’?” I’m talking to a tree, this is absurd. “I’m crazy, that’s my coherent answer.”

I was convicted by a 3 year old boy for doing this? Hell yeah, but he’s right, if you want an answer you need to ask.

I walk with resolute steps to the bench next to the entrance to the “Wall tree”, a small section of the park where the corridor is surrounded by big trees. The entrance where Joe and I talked years ago enjoying the sun hiding.

He’s sitting just watching the sunset, like always.

I talk before standing in front of him. “You’re in the mood for a walk?” Joe blinks multiple times when he sees me, like if he is actually seeing a ghost.

I dare to speak until I don’t see the entrance and I don’t see anyone near. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that the other night, I was overwhelmed.” I can feel his eyes on me. “And I’m sorry for the playoffs, great game though.”

Joe scoffs and nods. “It’s ok, I could have done better, for both situations.”

“I was hurt, all those years I thought you were just done with me, I can understand that if you told me but you just slipped away; then all my awkward situations came out the light and I felt caged.” On purpose I let the confession thing out of this.

“But I know if I want to do the right things I must do the proper talk and questions.”

Joe gulps but he remains in silence. “You mean it? You liked me?”

My hands are wet from sweating but I dropped a bomb, now I have to face it.

“No.” I chuckle because I felt my heart drop with his answer. He makes me stop standing in front of me, seeing me straight to my eyes.

“I like you, present sentence.”

I close my eyes trying to contain a smile the one probably Pam points to days ago.

“Can you give time? Talking with the truth years ago I kissed you at the moment I heard those words from you and I clearly remember it.” He laughs with eyes closed. “But now, I don’t know, I’m…” Joe adjusted my beanie over my head with a smile.

“All the time you need.” He laughs and I narrow my eyes. “Actually I was hoping for a categorical rejection and this is so much better.”

I choke my head, he smiles at me, I put my hands on my pockets. “I’m still thinking you should tell me.”

Joe giggles as we walk again. “Let's think it was a personal issue.”

“That you like me, kindly involve me.”

#joe burrow #joe shiesty #fic #fanfic #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fic #joe x reader “joe burrow fan fic #joe brrr #joseph lee burrow

14 notes · View notes

gregorygerwitz · 11 months ago

Text

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz, technology consultant

"You've got more tactical training than anyone else in this building." "Yeah. But I'm a civilian now. I'm happy behind my computer."

Things were kind of exactly what Mouse expected them to be when he got back to Chicago. It wasn't exactly a willing move, after they were almost blown up and stuck in hospital beds for weeks, but he got to go home and be comfortable afterwards, at least for a few years. He went back to a life where there were cameras pointed at him during every event, where he showed up to every fundraiser with a smile and coy comments about the absence of a lucky woman in his life. It wasn't perfect, but it was familiar enough that it was easy.

When he finally mustered up the courage to tell his parents why he never brought a date to any of those events, that ease was ripped out from under his feet. It put him in a cheap apartment with no working heater just before winter. It left him with a conditional meal every two weeks as long as he behaved while they were in public. It ended in a scene that he would have rather avoided, and his best friend finding out about a secret he'd been trying to hold onto so tightly...

Because the last time he told someone, he lost the only family he knew.

But that best friend was sitting by his bed when he opened his eyes a week and a half later, when he'd decided that the world he was living in wasn't worth staying in. That best friend offered a couch, in an apartment that wasn't freezing, and free food that didn't come with conditions. And he was allowed to stay as long as he needed to, or as long as he wanted, whether he got clean and functioned as a member of society or not. It was more support than he'd ever gotten from his parents, even with their seemingly endless bank account and time in the spotlight.

Living with Jay was good, and no part of him wanted to leave, so he didn't. As time went on, Mouse did get clean, leaving even the over the counter painkillers in the back of the medicine cabinet unless it was a particularly bad day. He got a job, and then another one when that didn't work out, and another, and another. When an old contact invited him to do something legal, doing minor repairs on ticket machines and printers at the airport, he found out he liked it. He'd missed working with technology, looking up information on Google to quiz Jay before a final not nearly as satisfying. And, even if he couldn't always work with machines, he could stay on at the airport and do odd jobs on the clock for whoever needed it.

He'd been fixing up a slow loading connection at a terminal desk when he actually made a friend that he didn't live with. Kim was a flight attendant, and she was friendly, and she'd brought him a silly little magnet from a layover in Florida to thank him for fixing the computer. And that turned into magnets from every layover, and coffee when she was in Chicago, and jokes that no one else understood, and a friendship that lasted beyond when she switched careers.

In fact, she was the one who recommended him when a tech position opened up with the Chicago Police Department. It was better than fixing ticket terminals and running from one end of the airport to the other just for ten minutes to eat an over priced lunch. It was regular hours, and a steady paycheck, and he didn't have to worry about not making his half of the rent just because everything at O'Hare happened to run smoothly for a week.

[ Jay ]

#mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #cpd #chicago pd #one chicago #november 2011;#alex does moodboards #au #one chicago au #moustead #this au doesn't have a tag #oops???#anyway i love them

16 notes · View notes

isopodcast · 2 years ago

Text

I recently commissioned @miranhas-art to draw two original characters, Suliya and Atlas (Suliya is mine, and Atlas belongs to my girlfriend.) I was blown away with the art, so I had to write something around it. It was supposed to be a drabble, but it turned into a short story because I couldn't write anything under 500 words to save my life.

Feel free to read it below the cut!

Words: 770 (approx.)

Content Warnings: None (besides several curse words and mention of insects)

Every month, Atlas voyages from Washington to Michigan to bask in Suliya's bright and joyful light. Feeling her presence releases more endorphins than the sun ever could. His trip is more than 2,200 miles, five hours in the air, plus a layover in Chicago. Atlas' pampered first-class seats cost over a thousand dollars; he must have the legroom, he says. And he gets grumpy without a decent meal, which apparently tastes better when it's complimentary.

But this time, Suliya booked a flight secretly, the shoddiest airline that flies into Seattle. Economy seats, nothing free of charge except a barf bag. Her best friend, Mikayla, agreed to oversee her store and care for her animals while she was away so that it would be a worry-free vacation. She planned to be inside Atlas' condo, lounging on his sofa while he ran errands. Sam, his roommate, was supposed to send him away before she arrived.

Instead, they almost collide at the entrance of his apartment building. Suliya barely has time to set her luggage down before Atlas pulls her into a crushing embrace.

"What the fuck!?" he howls. "What the fuck? When did you--"

"Thirty minutes ago!" she interjects, being squeezed by massive biceps. Blissful, her body is practically limp in his arms.

"No, when the fuck did you buy plane tickets?" he interrogates, "How long have you known you were coming?"

"Since last week."

"Last week!? Babeeee, why didn't you tell me? I would've picked you up at the airport!"

"It was a surprise!"

"Well, it's more than a surprise; it's a fuckin' delight."

She struggles but manages to crane her head upwards and beams at him, struck with thanksgiving to fate for bringing them together. "You're a fuckin' delight."

One hundred and sixty-one nights have passed since they met; he's been keeping track. Before then, Atlas wasn't sure love existed, not for him, not at the capacity felt for most, but Suliya has given his life a vibrancy it's never known; colors are brighter, aromas are more intense, touch is more tender and intimate. That unforgettable day might've been the luckiest one of his life, and he's scored with the Montana Lottery before, big time.

"How long do I have you? Did you get round-trip tickets?" he asks.

She shakes her head from side to side. "Nope."

"Planning on stayin' a while?"

"Until you're ready for me to go," she replies, "But I don't know if that'll ever happen."

"Yeah, I guess you're never leaving."

Heartbreak has always been one of his most debilitating fears, but losing Suliya is unthinkable. She's out of his league; Atlas has thought that since their first conversation, and he still believes it to be true. There isn't a doubt in his overactive little mind that someone so dynamic, with a beauty as celestial and a soul as rare as hers, wouldn't be satisfied with him forever. He's obsessed, but she deserves more than that. To him, Suliya is divine; countless men and women have worshipped her, and he worries that he might not pray or sacrifice enough.

Atlas lifts her from the ground, bringing their faces close. His eyes shut as she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands travel to his hair, nimble digits fussing with dark waves. He practically purrs in response, leaving gentle kisses on every inch of skin he can access; her cheek, her ear, her neck.

"I'm keeping you," he murmurs, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers, "And you're never going to leave if I have any say."

"Oh, nooo," she teases, "Stuck with you? God forbid."

"I'll lock the door and throw away the key, don't even tempt me. I don't play around, toots."

"Sealed away in a penthouse! How will I survive?"

They laugh together, relishing in each other's warmth and familiar scents. Atlas would fall apart without her, a giant rag doll stripped of his thread, spilling polyester stuffing with fabric asunder. He assumes he needs, wants, and loves her more than the healthy doses, more than she possibly could him, except the truth is that Suliya is equally devoted and afraid. Love has never been her strong suit; it's always ended poorly, but Atlas is worth the risk.

Busy downtown traffic breezes past them, snippets of dialogue buzzing intermittently from passersby. They stare at one another in comfortable silence.

"I do have to go home at some point," she mutters. "There's the shop and all the plants... And my cat likes Mikayla, but she'll miss me. Plus, the tarantulas, the snake, the centipedes--"

"Don't worry about the critters; I'll send for their things."

#writing #fiction #original characters #yknow what? fuck it i'm tagging the faceclaims #i will force you to see our ocs #you will love them god dammit lmao #golshifteh farahani #adam driver #in case you craved more of those two together after 'paterson'#art #artwork #commission #miranhas-art

82 notes · View notes

masterwords · 1 year ago

Text

the shape you take

Summary: Hotch is sad. Jack is just about to turn 18, Hank is spending the summer with his mom and he's dwelling on the empty nest. Morgan has just the ticket: sea, sand, food and naps. Fun in the sun and the sack. While exploring a nude beach one night they find a little more than they bargained for. (Part of The Chicago Times series)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 8.8k

Warnings: sex (not explicit details, just "hey they're having sex" type thing), food & alcohol, mentions of Foyet’s knife, scars (both of them), murder/corpse/blood, an inappropriate boner situation...

Read on AO3: the shape you take

Notes: This is my first entry for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge. I used one of the NSFW prompts but this is basically PG-13 because I don’t really write smut, just some sexy vibes. The prompts I chose were: Character A finally convinces B to go to the beach with them. Turns out it's a nude beach mixed with The sun makes Characters sleepy, so they take a nap. (They take a lot of naps. They're old.) There are a couple more from the list that I hope to write for before the challenge is finished, but we’ll see where the summer takes me! The end here is purposely left open for a special surprise...another collab with @domestikhighway58! Because writing with hwy58 is a dream and I want to do it all the time. To be unveiled soon-ish. (How's that for noncommittal?) (I'm posting the whole thing here, I haven't done that in a while...do you want me to go back to that or keep just linking AO3?)

Win by persuasion, not by force.

All spring Derek had been dropping hints. Little ones at first. He would add feta cheese to salad one night at dinner, or watch Hercules with Hank when he knew Aaron was going to be coming home from work or a run. Nothing big, but he knew Aaron would pick up on it eventually.

As they approached summer, the tactics became a little less subtle. There was a brochure stuck to the freezer, and a bottle of Greek red wine opened after dinner on Derek’s last day of work for the summer. Aaron had been done a week earlier. They waited to celebrate until everyone was finished and on summer break.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Aaron asks, pouring the wine and watching the boys set the table. Hank likes to fold the napkins while Jack sets out the silverware. Too many years separate them and yet Jack has been drawn closer to him in the last few months as he realizes how close he is to moving out, not seeing his little brother every day. He’d waited years to have one and it feels like it’s over way too soon. He wants to go to college in New York, but Hank makes him want to stay in Chicago instead. The thought of not being here, of missing big milestones, is crushing. Some small part of him thinks he knows how his dad must have felt missing his milestones for work – first words, first steps, first day of school, first everything. He’s going to move to New York and he’s going to miss all sorts of big moments.

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” Derek replies, scooting between the counter and Aaron, pressing in so close they barely have room to breathe. “I am telling you something.”

“When?” Aaron asks, because he knows better than to ask stupid questions. If Derek has the brochure and he’s laying it on this thick, he’s already booked the trip. And that’s okay, because Aaron spent too many years in complete control of everything and watching it all fall spectacularly to pieces...he’s shockingly willing to go with the flow these days.

At least to some degree.

“Jack leaves for New York on the 19th, Savannah’s picking Hank up on the 22nd, and my mom and sisters leave on the 25th. So, we’re leaving on the 25th. We’ll drive them to the airport and then hop on a plane ourselves.”

“When do we come back?”

“I booked the hotel for two weeks but...let’s just play it by ear huh?”

Play it by ear. That phrase would have struck fear into Aaron’s heart a few years ago. Sometimes he still feels like he’s going to make plans and then get a phone call that pulls him back to the BAU. It’s a hard habit to break even after all of these years.

“Two weeks in Greece. Where?”

“We’ll fly to Athens, spend a few days there, and then take the ferry over to Milos. I booked us an ATV rental so we can go wherever we want. We can do some day trips to other islands, go hang out on Crete and do all your nerdy shit...plus beaches, food, hiking, nightlife. Our room on Milos has its own private saltwater pool.”

“Private?” Aaron likes the sound of private. He’s not very interested in all that nightlife type stuff but a private pool? That he can get behind. Of course, if Derek asked him to dance he could hardly turn him down.

“I’ll show you pictures after dinner.”

Jack’s going to be 18 in a few months. This is his last summer of high school. He’s decided to skip sports and summer camps in lieu of spending two months living with Sean who has done good things with his life in his time since being released from jail. Sean who has earned, in Aaron’s eyes, his shot at redemption. What Aaron learned as a young teenager being packed off to boarding school, Sean had to learn through just over three years in a small cell, stripped of his liberties. Better late than never. Jack is old enough now to handle himself anyway, he’s more than proven his own responsibility in their years living in Chicago. He drives all over the city, he doesn’t break curfew, he’s really a little too good. It scares Aaron sometimes that he’s not out there causing trouble. Giving them hell. Just another way he thinks he’s broken his son.

He knows that isn’t the case though. Since Jack turned twelve, he’s had Derek and Fran and Sarah and Desiree and Savannah. He’s always had Jessica and Roy, he never doubted his mother’s love for an instant. His support system is full of incredible strength. Aaron knows that even if he’s failed, none of them have. But this trip to Greece, he can tell it’s Derek’s way of trying to pull him out of this spiral he’s sauntering into. This deep well of sadness at his son growing up and moving out, this empty feeling that he’s losing the last part of Haley that was never his to keep in the first place.

“What are you hiding?” Jack asks over dinner. He can tell they’re sitting on something. They’re terrible at keeping secrets.

“Not hiding anything,” Derek says, handing Hank his plate full of cut up steak and salad. “I just told your dad where I’m taking him for summer vacation.”

Jack rolls his eyes and huffs, visibly relieved. “Finally. I thought you’d have to take him all the way to the airport for him to get it.”

“I had a lot going on,” Aaron says a little defensively. It isn’t like he didn’t see Derek’s hints, but his mind was simply not present enough to try and guess why Derek was going crazy for Greece. “Final exams, your trip to New York…”

“Dad.”

Aaron throws his hands up in exasperation and smiles. “Take it easy on your old man. This is a hard time.”

Jack stops at that, he knows the idea of him moving out is killing his dad slowly. They’ve been on their own together for so long now he’s a little scared himself. “Well, you guys have to send tons of pictures.”

“Of course.”

Aaron cries when he hugs Jack goodbye at the airport. He manages to wait until Jack is far enough away that he doesn’t see it, but Jack knows it’s happening, he knows his dad cries easily so he doesn’t turn around. He saves him the trouble of trying to hide it. And he calls the minute his plane lands at JFK to let his dad know he’s safe and just as planned (and on time), Sean is waiting for him.

Savannah shows up a day early unannounced, her flight was changed due to weather. She sleeps in Jack’s room and spends a little more time in the city with family than expected. It’s a nice surprise for them all, and keeps Aaron from feeling too gutted at Jack’s absence. Having a full house means he’s making coffee and planning meals and making sure everyone is taken care of, it hardly leaves him any time at all to worry about whether Jack is getting into trouble in New York. (He’s not. Nothing too bad anyway. Sean might have encouraged him to live a little...but they’ll keep that to themselves. Sean is reformed, he’s no angel.)

When Savannah takes Hank, and it’s just the two of them for a few days, they spend their time preparing their house to sit empty for weeks. They have people lined up to come check on things, get the mail, mind the yards but for the most part it’ll just sit. They pack their bags and eat off of paper plates in the days leading up to their trip. They empty their cupboards and refrigerator. It feels like working in the BAU, never being able to keep anything perishable on hand just in case. Aaron always joked that it was incredible that none of them ended up with scurvy.

At the airport, they walk Derek’s mom and sisters to their gate. Off to Hawaii, a vacation paid for by he and Aaron. A sort of thank you for taking care of them, for helping with Hank, for everything. “All inclusive means all inclusive, mom,” Derek says as he wraps her in a hug. “You put on the little bracelet and you don’t pay for a damn thing. You want a piña colada? You get one. You want a meal? You get one. Don’t skimp okay?”

“Oh, believe me...I won’t be…” Desiree says with a smirk and Sarah agrees.

“Gonna make sure I drink every drop you paid for.”

“Girls!”

Fran still can’t believe she’s going to Hawaii. She’s never been on a plane that’s gone farther than Virginia. She’s never been west. She’s anxious to fly over the ocean, but more than that, she just can’t believe her son is in a place now that he’s married and buying tropical vacations for her and his sisters like it’s nothing. If you asked her where she saw her life going when her husband died and she was thrust into being a single mother struggling to survive on the south side of Chicago, this wouldn’t have ever occurred to her.

“Be safe on your trip,” she says as she hugs Aaron around the neck. “Don’t let him do anything dangerous. I don’t want any pictures of him jumping off of cliffs or swimming in the open ocean.”

“I don’t want any of that either,” Aaron says, knowing with absolute certainty that if Derek wants to do either of those things he won’t be able to stop him. He’d like to say that he wouldn’t be doing those things, but if Derek grabbed him by the hand and asked him to jump off of a cliff into the crystal blue water, or climb down off of a boat and swim in the open sea...he isn’t sure he could say no, even if he wanted to.

“Don’t let him eat too much cheese, it makes him sick,” Fran adds, still holding Aaron’s neck. He nods.

“I know.”

“And you! Don’t you worry about Jack or the house or...anything. Don’t get sunburned. Eat good food. Smile. Have fun. Make memories.”

“You too.”

(x)

He’s drunk on sunshine and the sound of waves. On blood red wine and salty, briny cheeses and oil soaked olives. Decadence never appealed to him, but being here on their private patio, his feet dangling in a small private pool and staring out at the Aegean Sea that’s about as lazy and warm as he feels right now he wonders why. Derek is sleeping on the bed just inside the sliding doors, bathing in glorious sunlight. A cat nap, he said over an hour ago. At their age a cat nap tends to turn into an afternoon lost to dreams.

They started the nap together, lazy and lounging, twisted tangled limbs and feather soft kisses as they drifted off. But he was hungry so he got up before he managed to fall completely asleep. Untangled himself from Derek’s sweaty grip and padded barefoot toward the fridge for some food. Cheese and olives left over from their breakfast, an apple sliced with some honey. He’s practically starving by the time he’s sitting on the balcony with a plate on his lap watching the seagulls and the cats battle for scraps that the tide left behind.

He’s never loved the beach. Sand gets everywhere, it smells bad, and people are rude. They rarely stay in their own areas, you have to fight for a space. Too crowded. He wonders how people find it at all relaxing. But this? Overlooking the beach from his own balcony, this is good. No sand, all ocean as far as he can see. Islands in the distance. He counts them off mentally, notes which ones they’ve already traveled to, visualizes his way through them. Storing those memories tight in there. He doesn’t want to forget a moment and he’s afraid he already has.

Beside him is a journal, just a little notebook filled with shorthand and chicken scratch, things he wants to do and things he wants to remember to tell Jack about. It calms the storm in his mind to have it all written down.

Jack is pulling away, naturally, but Aaron got a text the day before with a photo of him eating with Beth and Sean. She insisted on seeing him when she came on a work trip, and Aaron thinks she’s more beautiful than ever. He still loves her a little, he never really falls out of love with anyone. People imprint on him and he can’t let them go. It doesn’t make any difference, he knows Derek still feels the same about Savannah. It just works for them.

“How long did I sleep?” Derek’s voice floats through the room, out onto the patio on the breeze. His words are jumbled and muffled by the pillow his face is still smashed into. Aaron smiles.

“A while,” is his reply. He’s trying to let go of itineraries and timelines. He’s trying not to look at clocks at all, really. Clocks remind him of time passing and he’s better off without that on his mind. “Not too long.”

“Mmmfff…” Derek mumbles and Aaron can hear the sleep smile, the way his eyes are still closed and he’s considering whether to let himself go back to sleep or get up and rummage through the cupboards himself. His shoulders are a mountain of bronze and Aaron glances back into the room, thinks about the way they would taste, the skin salty and warm against his lips. He’s tempted to get out of the pool, and then he decides he might lay a trap instead to get Derek to come to him.

“I have a snack,” He offers. It’s almost too easy. “I might share it with you.”

“What’s the catch?” Derek asks, sitting upright and scrubbing his hands down his face. He’s sweaty, the humidity drenches his skin and he needs a shave again already. Aaron can’t take his eyes off of Derek out here, it’s like the light is in love with him, it paints him in a way that Aaron can’t resist. He’s carved from the cliffs and chiseled by the hands of the gods. Meanwhile, Aaron is pretty sure he just looks like a drowned rat. His hair, a little too long for his taste, hangs limp where it would normally be mussed up and messy against his will. An unruly mop, now tamed by humidity.

“No catch.”

“Alright, then what’s it gonna cost me?”

Aaron smiles and tilts his face to the sky expectantly. He’s waiting for Derek to appear above him. “A kiss.”

A kiss is a dangerous thing and as they slip easily into the still pool water unclothed, Aaron thinks they’re bound to end up back in the bed sooner rather than later. The water is a cool break from the oppressive heat of the afternoon sun. Aaron dunks himself first, goes under like a torpedo and slicks his hair back from his eyes when he surfaces. Derek put a headband on him the other day and on principal he hated it, but he didn’t take it off either, at least not for a while. It kept the hair out of his eyes. Derek said he looked cute. The water works just as well now. Derek stares at him in awe and smiles, thumbs smoothing over the droplets that cling to Aaron’s eyelashes.

“You are gorgeous,” he muses, hands cupping Aaron’s jaw, leaning in for a kiss. They wrap around one another, limbs tangling, turning and bouncing weightless in the aquamarine. “Do you even have any idea?”

Aaron hums. It’s a delighted sound that Derek craves, it means he’s in the mood for a little more than kissing. Moving together in unison, their bodies making ripples across the otherwise calm surface, they can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other. Aaron envisioned historical site visits and hikes, ferry trips between islands, all sorts of excursions and so far the thing he’d explored the most was the expanse of Derek’s body. With two kids at home, they don’t get as much alone time as they’d like and it’s just about all they can think to do now. They’re going to have to stay an extra week just to actually experience more than just the inside of a hotel room.

“Wanna go inside?” Derek asks, nose pressed against Aaron’s shoulder, littering kisses amid saltwater droplets. Aaron moans deep and sonorous.

“Absolutely,” he smiles, head lolling back, adam’s apple bobbing dangerously. Derek licks and bites, lifts Aaron into his arms and turns until he’s floating on his back, Aaron on top of him. He kicks and pushes them toward the steps, dipping below the surface once or twice, turning until he’s on top, acrobatics they’re old pros at a week into this hotel. Dancing in the water has become a sort of specialty. Naughty synchronized swimming. Neither of them wants to get out, the foreplay is just as fun, chilly fingers working at delicate skin, hips rocking and muscles twitching.

Inside, they dry off quickly and leap into the bed before their skin adjusts to the temperature of the room again. The sex is languorous and slow, they have nowhere to be, no one expecting them. Afterward they shower, still touching, still kissing, they almost head back to bed except they’re both starving. They come to an agreement that they need to make their way into town for dinner after discussing the possibility of one more quick fuck. It isn’t in the cards, though. Derek is about to gnaw his own arm off he says, so they dress and start their slow evening walk. The ATV sits in its spot waiting for them to take some interest in something other than sex and a walk to town.

They’ve eaten at the same restaurant the last three nights in a row, it’s never as busy as the others and the owners don’t mind the way that they want to just sit quietly and eat their way through small plates of everything with bottles of wine. They’ve tried a lot of the menu, and now the cooks are just sending the plates on the fly. Testing things out.

The owners, an elderly couple with gnarled hands and twinkling eyes the color of the Aegean, like to listen to their stories (the less terrible ones anyway, they spare them that). They look at these two men, Aaron with his salt and pepper hair that’s definitely got a lot more salt these days lighting up his temples and Derek with his goatee that’s shimmering with silver sparkles and they can’t believe they carried guns and caught serial killers. “It sounds like a movie,” one of them says in a thick accent that makes Aaron melt. “It can’t be real.”

But they have pictures. The two of them in the office, candid shots that remind them of days gone by. Days they miss with every fiber of their beings but wouldn’t repeat for anything. Days when taking a nap seemed as absurd as the sky suddenly turning bright yellow. Now, missing a nap is ludicrous. They get off work in the early afternoon and siesta before they even decide what to make for dinner. Vacation just means more naps, and it does seem crazy that there was a time in Aaron’s life that he needed to carry two weapons or that he was put in the hospital by a serial killer. It’s like a different life, a different person. He can understand why they don’t exactly believe him.

“Baba ganoush,” Derek says as soon as they sit down. It’s become his favorite food in the world since they landed in Athens. Since they made their way from Athens to Milos. He’d eat it with a spoon if that were socially acceptable, he likes it that much. And here, they drench it in olive oil and pine nuts and thick green parsley. Aaron chooses small plates of seafood that make Derek squirm in his seat, prawns with their eyes still staring at him and octopus tentacles purple and swirling and spiraling over the edge of the plate dramatically. Aaron is an adventurous eater now. He always had it in him but his job made him paranoid and sick, ulcers eating away at him from the inside. There are still plenty of days when he walks around with an ache deep in his stomach, but it’s less to do with food and more to do with how his body functions after Foyet played mad surgeon with him.

Aaron’s favorite is the fried anchovies. It’s the only thing Derek has tried that he won’t touch again. “It’s like cat food with extra salt. The bones are like little razors,” he’d said, swallowing it only because he didn’t want to be rude. He really wanted to spit it into his napkin.

Their table is full of tiny plates, dips and seafood and breads. Olive oil and bread is a constant. Derek can’t remember the last time he ate so many carbs so happily. They’ll get full and lean back, sipping their wine contentedly until there’s room and then eat a little more. Whatever doesn’t get eaten is taken back to their little hotel fridge and they’ll snack on it the rest of the night and maybe even for breakfast, though they do like wandering into town to find food for breakfast just after the sun has crested the horizon.

“So, I was thinking,” Derek says as they walk back to the hotel hand in hand. They each have a to-go box in the other hand. “You wanna go check out that ancient theater they got up on that hill? Go drop this off, grab the ATV and explore?”

“You mean leave the hotel room for more than food?” Aaron asks with mock surprise.

Aaron smiles and nods before Derek can respond. He can’t imagine anything better than absorbing more history. They’d made plenty of stops while in Athens but nothing so far here. He’s nowhere near his limit. “Leave the notebook,” Derek tells him when they drop off their food and grab a blanket. “You can write it down later.” It might be hot during the day but it gets chilly at night, the briny wind coming in off of the sea is bound to make Aaron shiver. He used to poke fun at him for how his blood seemed to run like rivers of ice, a blessing in the heat when he wants to wear his suits on a case in Florida but when they’re in Alaska and his lips are nearly blue even in his big puffy coat it’s a little problematic. He’d always run cold, but after Foyet, after his heart stopped and too much of his blood was spilled...he can’t seem to shake a chill when it settles in his bones. Here it’s only a minor inconvenience, nothing a blanket draped around his shoulders won’t fix in a snap.

The ATV ride is nice. Aaron clings to Derek’s back, relaxes against him with his hands on his hips and watches the scenery creep by. They don’t go fast, this is the most new that they’ve seen in days. He’s taking it all in.

They’re the only ones in the carved marble and stone theater for a long time. It’s just before sunset, close enough that all of the tourists have ambled away from the other sights and headed for the higher ground, the places they can get their pictures so everyone they’ve ever (or never) met can see what they see. Selfies are king and everyone wants the shot. They aren’t interested in that, they don’t even have social media. For a variety of reasons, perhaps, not the least of which is simply that they covet their privacy.

That doesn’t stop them from taking hundreds of photos, though. They just keep those photos close.

Derek takes pictures of Aaron, his aquiline profile against the glow of dawn, his feet in the sand, his thick fingers against the delicate stem of a wine glass...all of the little pieces of him that he adores so much. A former bomb tech, Derek obsesses over small details. The way the early morning sun plays with the silver at Aaron’s temples or the band-aids he’s always got over skinned knuckles and broken nails. Aaron favors a wider angle, candid shots from far away, admiring the way Derek seems to fit into the strange lunar landscape, terrain created by ancient gods. He looks crafted from their sunbeams and Aaron can’t get enough of the way the sun plays with his skin. He aims his camera as Derek splashes through waves, as he jumps from the highest rock he can find with slicing precision, as he leaps into the ocean from a small boat. He captures Derek napping on a hammock on a boat in the middle of the sea before he lays his camera down to do the same. He clicks the shutter when Derek is laughing at a story he’s being told or learning how to do something new with that intense look of determination and curiosity.

In their old age, they’re kind of obsessed with each other. And neither of them feels bad about it.

“Let’s take our clothes off and have some fun tonight,” Derek says with a slow grin. He’s not even worried Aaron is going to say no, they’re too far in now. Aaron has scaled rock cliffs for him, climbed down (and then back up) ladders and ropes and through steep canons of red rock to get to a secluded little beach. They’re sitting alone in the center of an ancient Greek theater and Aaron is so wrapped up in the idea of watching a performance or a speech here that he doesn’t even give Derek’s question any thought, he simply agrees. Fun sounds good. Fun with Derek always sounds good.

“What kind of fun?” Aaron asks curiously, already knowing that he’s going to do it regardless of the answer. He’s loosened up but he’s still Aaron Hotchner. He doesn’t like to be kept in the dark. Surprises make him uneasy. And more to the point, the idea of sex on the beach is less than appealing no matter what. It doesn’t matter that his husband is a bronze sun god, he doesn’t want sand in his mouth or his ass and that’s pretty final.

“We’re pretty close to a beach that lets you drop your trousers...go all natural...”

“Nothing too crazy. I don’t want sand inside of me but...maybe just…” he starts, ready to suggest that they start fooling around at the beach and head back to their hotel for the rest. He stops mid-sentence when an elderly couple amble past them, two rows down, hardly seeming to mind the conversation they’d been privy to moments before. They lower their voices anyway.

“Please. I did all those boring castle tours.”

“They weren’t boring,” Aaron mutters a little indignantly. Derek kisses his knuckles and smiles.

“No, they weren’t. They were awesome. I just think you’d have a great time...it’s really freeing taking your clothes off. You could use a little freeing.”

Aaron thinks about Jack going off to spend most of his summer in New York. His last summer at home as a child and he wants to be away for most of it...Aaron can hardly begrudge him that, he saved up money all year in order to do this on his own. He’ll be home next summer and they’ll spend the whole thing together as a family, doing everything and doing nothing, Jack promised him that. It’s a give and take with a grown child. But then he thinks about Jack going to college in a year and it makes his chest ache. Around that kind of tightness he thinks he can’t handle any more freedom. They still have Hank. Sweet little Hank who went from only child to youngest and is about to go back to only in many ways. His grasp of the situation is tentative at best, it’s going to be a big adjustment. Derek sees the darkening in Aaron’s eyes and pulls him close, kisses him on the temple. “I know. You don’t need more freedom. I get it. But I want you so bad I can hardly stand it…I’m your ball and chain, baby...you can’t get free of me.”

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” the woman says, startling both of them. The couple is now closer, standing over them from behind. Aaron freezes against Derek’s chest, mortified that these people heard them talking about their rabid libido, but he can’t be bothered for long. Her husband looks mortified. She looks pleased. She’s wearing bright blue pants and a white shirt, she’s clearly gone out of her way to match her surroundings. He can’t quite place her accent. “But I overheard you mentioning finding a...natural...beach? We go every night. You’re right, it is freeing. I’ll show you the beach we like, Harold get the map. It’s busy in the daytime but it empties in the evening. Most families head up to the church to see the sunset, leaving the beach to us.”

Aaron is mortified but Derek is beaming. “What’s your name?”

“Catherine,” she says and Aaron watches the flush in her cheeks when Derek takes her hand and kisses it. “This is my husband Harold.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Aaron says, shaking Harold’s hand.

She hands them her map and Aaron looks at it intently, though he doesn’t bother to tell her he’s already practically memorized the thing. It’s folded in his journal back at their hotel. She points to the beach and to the cove with a smile, her massive collection of gold bracelets crusted with jewels dragging and making the sound of wind chimes. She smells like peonies and roses with a faint underscore of denture cream. He likes her instantly.

“Will you be there tonight?” Derek asks. She smiles bright with her crimson painted lips and nods. Harold, a little more reserved but no less flashy in his brown suit and gold chain, gives a little shrug.

“More than likely. We just can’t stay away. You take a bottle of wine and a blanket, you find yourself a little nook and you enjoy yourself. What more could you want in life?”

Derek nudges Aaron with his elbow. “What more could you want?”

Aaron can think of a few things, perhaps, but he smiles and offers agreement.

The sunset is glorious, and Derek really wants to head down to the beach right away but Aaron looks tired. He didn’t take a nap earlier and it’s catching up to him now. There’s a special little flicker of premonition that comes with knowing a person as well as Derek knows Aaron, and he can see the future: they’ll get to the beach, and Aaron will fall fast asleep if they lay down on the sand. The conditions will be too perfect. He’ll have to practically carry him back to the hotel, and there will be no sex.

That won’t do, so he compromises. “Let’s go take a little nap,” he says, pressing his nose to Aaron’s cheek. “We’ll head down to the beach when it’s almost dark.”

“Set an alarm.” That means he’ll sleep all night if they don’t. Derek heeds the warning and sets his alarm for one hour.

There isn’t anyone on the beach when they show up and make their way around to the little cove their new acquaintances told them about. During the daytime they imagine the place is flooded with people, flesh and kissing and as Harold put it with his wry little smile: “debauchery”. He’d told them about their first time, showing up just after lunch and feeling as though they’d joined an orgy. They enjoyed themselves fine but prefer the solitude of dusk. Derek thinks the daytime hours would be a kick and a half and plans to get around to a trip on his own down that way, but with Aaron he’ll stick to the dark.

“How about right here?” Derek asks, spreading the blanket up next to the cliff wall. They have a perfect view of the sea, the last bursts of sunlight barely cresting the horizon and fighting with the silvery shreds of moonlight filtering through blinking stars. They each have a bag full of provisions, snacks and drinks, flashlights and other beach necessities that they set down on each side of the blanket to pin it in place against the breeze skating in off the sea. Derek wastes no time at all stripping, his shorts are around his ankles immediately and he’s tearing at his shirt before he even steps out of them. Aaron is a little more timid, but he gets there. He’s looking around, over his shoulder, out at the sea for fishing boats, anyone whose eyes might be on him.

He hadn’t been cold before, but now his skin is flush with goosebumps and his nipples could cut diamonds. He folds his arms over his chest and bounces on the balls of his feet a little. Derek wraps his sun-soaked arms around Aaron and shares the warmth from his internal furnace.

“You’re a big baby.”

“I know.”

“Huge.”

“I’m aware, thank you.”

Aaron has always been self-conscious, his scars are huge and eye-catching. They look exactly like what they are: knife wounds. They don’t look like they could be anything else. He imagines how he’ll explain them without frightening people, and it inevitably ends up with him leaving his shirt on to save everyone the trouble. It makes people visibly uncomfortable. And his back? Well it’s a little easier to explain away through lies – bicycle wrecks, falling out of tree houses, the kind of stories that indicate an idyllic country childhood spent in the open air getting into all sorts of trouble. He doesn’t feel bad lying about those to strangers. They’re messy. But the scars on his front, there’s no good excuse for those. They’re severe and precise and there’s no palatable explanation for them.

But Derek’s chest is scarred too, a huge track of melted skin all the way down his sternum. Hotch looks at that and sees incredible strength and resilience, he sees triumph over his captors, he sees survival. What Derek accomplished in that cabin on his own makes Aaron swell with pride for him. Derek oozes confidence – the scar is a story that belongs to him, and when people ask he just says it was an on-the-job injury the same as the bullet scars, the same as anything else. And he says it so casually that no one really bothers to ask for more information, they just stare in awe at this miraculous man in front of them. But Aaron can’t seem to gather that same kind of confidence without his suit and tie. An on the job injury that involved nine stab wounds? What kind of thing is that? And all he really had to do to get out of it was stay awake. It’s hardly as impressive.

He doesn’t have much time to consider it because he feels a soft tickle at his ankle and looks down to find a cat. Scruffy and orange, the cat purrs loudly and slides against his shin one direction and then back. Glancing around, he realizes it isn’t the only one. They’re surrounded by curious cats. “I read about this,” Hotch says in awe. “They live in these caves.”

“Just a bunch of cave pussy, huh?”

Aaron gives Derek a disapproving look but cracks a smile anyway, he’s funny, he can’t help it. His crass humor has only gotten worse as he’s gotten older. In mixed company it makes Aaron blush.

“Let’s see where they live,” Aaron says. Derek jumps at a chance to explore a little of the area and honestly the idea of wandering through a cave completely naked is a little thrilling. Aaron digs around in his shoulder bag, past the bottle of wine and plastic cups and to-go container of bread and oil and cheese from dinner earlier until he finds his flashlight. They had headlamps too, but he didn’t think they needed to go that far into the cave. Not at night anyway. He’d heard that some of these caves connected directly to the sea on the other side, more like a tunnel, but he isn’t keen on going that deep tonight.

The follow the trail of cats back into a large cave not far from where they set up their little evening rendezvous. Aaron’s flashlight sends a flood of hazy yellow ahead of them and throws the walls and rock formations into striking shadow figures. “You smell that?” Derek asks. He was prepared for the smell of cats, this cave was probably a natural litter box but this smell...isn’t cat-made. He would know this smell anywhere.

It’s death. More to the point, it’s blood, the sickly metallic tang of fresh blood. It doesn’t immediately call their attention to danger, it could be anything. An animal the cats killed, they have to eat too and these cats are scavengers.

“I might not hear well but I can smell just fine,” Hotch replies, noting that the further in they go the worse the smell gets. He’s picturing another cat, maybe, or a mess of seagull and feathers. He’s anticipating a gory mess...but what they find is worse.

There is no mess. It’s a body, sure, and there is blood...but it’s not cat food. It’s a young man, younger than they are anyway. Probably in his thirties though it’s hard to tell in this light. He’s lying on his back with a stab wound in his chest, a crimson bloodflower spreading slowly over the white linen of his button down shirt. Aaron can’t even help it, he lets out a long, miserable sigh and looks at Derek in the sickly yellow glow of the flashlight. “Damn.”

Aaron instinctively crouches beside the body and reaches out to check for a pulse, knowing with certainty that he won’t find one. Still, if there is any possibility at all of life, he can’t stand and watch it fade without doing anything. There is no pulse, no breath, the skin is cooler than it should be. He hasn’t been dead long but he’s absolutely dead.

“So much for sex on the beach,” Derek mutters, and Aaron shakes his head. All thoughts of wine and picnics and making out in the ocean breeze are dashed from his mind. He hasn’t been with the BAU in years, and yet the change is almost instant. He goes from Aaron enjoying his vacation to Hotch working the case. Derek’s change is immediate as well. Just like putting on a new pair of clothes.

“Did you bring your phone?”

“It’s in my pants. Stay here with him.”

“I’m naked, Derek. Bring me my clothes or the blanket or something to cover up with. Please.”

“We’re both naked. It’s a nude beach, Aaron. If we’re down here in clothes don’t you think they’re going to immediately suspect us? Check out more of the area, see if you can find anything useful.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. I’m going to wander naked and barefoot alone in this cave. That sounds smart.” He’s biting back with sarcasm and he doesn’t like it. Derek doesn’t deserve that. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Where is SSA Hotchner?” Derek asks, returning the sarcasm in spades. Aaron groans.

“He’s old and retired, trying to avoid dead bodies and killers. He’s tired.”

Derek hums, content in the knowledge that he’s bullied Aaron into at least scoping out the site to see if he can find anything else. That’s a stab wound, he could tell, and the weapon wasn’t in the victim. He hurries back to the blanket, suddenly worried that he left Aaron in the cave unarmed and barefoot – what if he steps on the knife? What if the killer is still in there? He moves faster, rifles through the bag for another flashlight and finds his phone hanging halfway out of the back pocket in his shorts. He thinks about putting them on but remembers what he’d said and doesn’t. He does grab a towel from the bottom of the bag and decides he’ll offer it to Aaron. He’s not worried about being naked in front of the police but he knows Aaron battles with his insecurity and he’s not eager to make it worse. Not right now.

He calls the police and directs them to their location before going back into the cave and offering Aaron the towel to cover himself up. Aaron looks at him with so much love in his eyes, sparking embers in the shadowy cave and once again he mourns the ruined plans for their evening.

It doesn’t take long for police to show up with huge flood lights they set up at the mouth and string along the craggy roof of the cave. The whole place is lit up like daylight and Derek scoots until he’s shielded a little by Aaron and his towel. Maybe he should have grabbed one himself. He’s never been self-conscious but this harsh light makes him feel like he’s been put under a magnifying glass.

While they waited for the police to show up, Aaron managed to find few footprints that don’t belong to he or Derek, some blood on the wall, and a knife half buried in the sand about ten feet from the body. He had nearly stepped on it. Still, potential danger aside, he can’t believe it’s this easy.

The police, three of them, rush toward the body and push Aaron and Derek back while they examine it for themselves. One of them, the man in charge, speaks English.

“You found him? How long ago?”

“About ten minutes. We called right away.”

“What were you doing in the cave?”

“We followed some cats in. We were curious about where they lived and how many there were.” It sounds flimsy even as Derek says it, but it’s the truth. He doesn’t make his pussy joke.

“The body is still warm. The killer can’t be far away.”

“There’s a knife in the sand over there, and footprints leading further into the cave. I don’t know how far in they go.” Aaron stops himself before he goes into everything he’s already figured out about the body. He can’t help it, this is second nature. Derek asked him where SSA Hotchner was, and it turns out, he may be incredibly tired and rusty but he’s right here.

“I don’t think the killer meant to do this.”

Derek shoots him a funny look, eyebrows raised. He recognizes the tone of Aaron’s voice. He’s already got a profile. That fast. He’s naked, wrapped in a terrycloth towel, ready to deliver the damn profile to police officers who barely speak English in a cat filled cave. Aaron has taken control of the entire situation, and even though he’s a naked tourist they’re all listening to him. They’re all looking to him. Derek has to think about baseball statistics being rattled off by his grandmother in order to keep the resulting erection at bay. He uses the flashlight, turned off now because there’s plenty of light in the cave, to hide it. He’s barely successful.

The best part is that as he watches, he realizes that Aaron is standing taller. He’s not trying to hide his scars, his stories. He seems to realize that standing there the way he is, those scars tell a story that is riveting and the officers can’t look away. Maybe there is some power in them and what he’s survived, maybe they’re to his advantage after all. Maybe the way they make these officers uncomfortable is useful.

“What makes you say that?” the lead detective asks, tearing his eyes away from this scarred man in a towel to glance at the body again. Aaron feels bad for him, it’s pretty obvious they don’t deal with things like this here very often and they’re all visibly shaken. Probably petty theft and some vandalism, tourists behaving badly, that sort of thing. Not murder.

Aaron would rather be just about anywhere else in the whole world right now but he’s here, and he’s going to help them out the best he can. At least they seem, so far, to believe that he didn’t have anything to do with it. Either that or they think he’s about the stupidest man they’ve ever come across and eventually he’ll just give himself away. The thought almost makes him smile but he maintains his composure.

“This crime scene is messy. It looks like there was someone here, maybe two people, and my guess is that the victim surprised them while they were otherwise occupied. The victim doesn’t have any defensive wounds but he does have some hair caught between two of his fingers on his right hand and a smudge of what looks like lipstick on his arm.”

Bright red lipstick. Aaron’s stomach fills with a kind of dread that he used to thrive on. The kind that leads him right to the person who held the knife.

The police are all staring at him with their mouths open, incredulous. The detective who speaks English is translating to the other two quietly, at least he hopes he’s translating and not condemning him.

“I think his killer was older, probably a man. Most likely self-defense. The state of the scene makes me think that the person who killed this man was afraid and as soon as the knife went in, they ran away. They most likely didn’t stop to see if the man was dead before they ran. I would look for an older couple who seem rattled, or who check out of their hotel room abruptly and leave the island. They’re afraid of what they’ve done, but I think you’ll find this wasn’t premeditated. This man most likely threatened them in some way. I would expect that the knife probably belonged to him.”

“How do you know all of this if you are not the killer?” the officer asks. Aaron and Derek both expected that question a lot sooner. Aaron had been thinking about telling the police to check the man’s pockets where they would likely find jewelry or something from the woman, perhaps the man. A gold bangle bracelet or a chain. But they’re starting to suspect Aaron knows too much so he keeps that to himself. They’ll find that on their own.

“I’m a retired FBI Agent.”

“We both are,” Derek chimes in, ready to stop being just a naked bump on a log. He’d been enjoying Aaron somehow running the show but he wants in on the action now. He’s kind of an adrenaline junkie. “We worked with the Behavioral Analysis Unit hunting serial killers all over America.”

The police stare at them for a moment and start laughing. “You retired and came here on vacation to relax only you cannot get away, the killers follow you,” the officer says. “It’s amusing, no?”

“Is it?” Derek asks with a laugh. He gives the officers all of their information, including the number to Emily’s desk at the FBI to check their references. Their alibi for the estimated time of death was flimsy, they’d been napping in their room until they came to the beach. No one could vouch for their whereabouts, but they were complying and it didn’t seem like the police suspected them.

Back at their hotel, they ready themselves for bed. Washing up, brushing their teeth, going through the motions. Aaron takes his mess of evening pills and Derek checks that their doors are all secure. When they meet up in the bed, they both lay silent side by side, exhausted yet wide awake. They’re both buzzing with the excitement of a case they don’t get to work and the only way to alleviate that kind of charge is by getting physical. That part is easy. The bed sheets are peeled back and in they slide, ready to settle the score. “Back there,” Derek says between hot breathy kisses. “You were so damn hot I could barely handle it.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks, a little coy, smiling into the next kiss. “How close did you come?”

“My grandma had to tell me all about Hank Aaron’s stats…” Derek whispers desperately, rocking his hips against Aaron’s thigh. He’s thinking about the cave again, about the way Aaron became Hotch, about the power in the way he stood. About the way he squared his shoulders and didn’t shield his scars from sight but claimed them, claimed his survival, claimed a showdown with a prolific serial killer. Aaron smiles and knows exactly what to do.

“Hank Aaron had 3771 hits in his career,” Aaron whispers hot and slow against the pulse in Derek’s throat. He moves lower, dusting kisses along his collarbone, along the ridges of his scar. “755 home runs…”

Derek moans as Aaron glides down his abs and finds his destination, and with one hand Derek pushes Aaron’s head so he’ll stop ruining the stat trick, so he has something else to do with his mouth. Even that’s turning him on now.

The phone rings as they lay panting in bed, spent and happy, ready for another shower and a dip in the pool. Muscles twitching, chests heaving, neither of them any closer to being ready for sleep. Derek answers, hums a few times, nods and thanks whoever is on the line. Aaron has a guess.

“That was the police, they caught the killers.”

“Harold and Catherine?” Aaron asks and Derek nods, feeling that same pool of warmth spread again in his groin.

“They were in the cave to feed the cats and probably to get busy. You remember all their bling. Catherine and all that gold, I’m not surprised. He grabbed her by the hair and Harold knocked the knife out of his hand and stabbed him. They ran through the cave to the main beach, the police caught them by Catherine’s engraved necklace under the guy half buried in the sand. He ripped it off her neck. Doesn’t sound like the police are gonna do much to them, this guy had a record and is wanted in Athens for the rape and murder of a tourist a few years back. Sounds like a piece of shit that got what was coming to him.”

Aaron smiles and nods before yawning. “Shower?” And just like that he’s turned it off. Case closed. Hotch is back in retirement and Aaron just wants to shower and take a dip in the pool with his husband. He wants to resume vacation mode. They get into the shower and wash the case off of them with ease, soap suds and slick skin and smiles. It doesn’t take them long before they’re dancing slowly in the shower, just small sways and circles, Derek’s hand settled at the curved small of Aaron’s back, Aaron draped over Derek’s shoulder.

“Let’s have a snack” Derek says, always thinking about food. Aaron nods. “I have something I want to run by you...”

“I have a guess,” Aaron replies with a smile, turning his face toward Derek’s and kissing him. He’s been waiting for Derek to bring it up. “You want to extend the vacation. You’re not ready to go home to the empty house either.”

“We’re already all the way over here...what if we just pop over to Italy and spend some time there?”

“Just pop over to Italy huh?” Aaron smiles dreamily and rests his cheek against the mound of Derek’s shoulder, swaying again beneath the shower. The water is lukewarm and feels heavenly against their sandy sticky skin. He’s content to stay here for a bit longer dreaming of more travel. They don’t have kids who will be home for another month, they’ve got plenty of time and resources. There’s no good reason not to. “Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s go to Italy. Why not?”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan

25 notes · View notes

swinging-stars-from-satellites · 9 months ago

Note

hiiiii lu beloved <3 6, 20 + 37 :3!

HIIII ATLAS ILY

6. A song that reminds you of a place you’ve been

ok this is probably weird but I literally have a playlist named after the Anchorage AK airport because I spent a NOT insignificant part of my childhood there (I grew up in AK until I was 16 and most of my extended family is from the Midwest so we flew a LOT when I was a kid). one of the songs I listened to a LOT while sitting at gates under big windows in the middle of the night, waiting for redeye flights, was Run by Addison Road so now I always associate it with ANC and the weird, dreamlike feeling of being there as a kid

20. A song that you’ve listened to on repeat recently

I've had City In A Garden on loop pretty much since my 2ourdust show bc a girl there traded bracelets with me and she have me an "I ❤️ u Chicago" one so every time I see it I get the song stuck in my head and it's SO good like wough I forget how good Lake Effect Kid EP is but it goes SO HARD.

37. A song that helped you through a difficult time in your life

I promise I don't rb music ask games just as an excuse to talk about FOB on main but genuinely Fake Out. all of SM(F)S but especially Fake Out. my brother and sister in law are my best friends, pretty much, and they moved away at the end of last summer and I cannot tell you how many times I listened to Fake Out on loop, laying on the kitchen floor and crying the night before we sent them off. I think if I looked back at my Spotify Wrapped that would probably show up as the day with the most listens lol.

but really... my pinned post over here is "the window was already open" bc the "but" in Fake Out is SO important to me. like I'm such a pessimist by nature, to hear "buried alive inside my dreams, BUT" is so important. bc that's what the inside of my brain is like. everything seems awful and downtrodden and depressing but that ISN'T THE END. there's a but and it's not the truth! my perceptions, my negativity, are not the truth!! there's a but and the window was already open!

#sorry for ranting at you 💖 I love you 💖💖#Lu rambles #asks #music #atlas tag

5 notes · View notes

sibillascribbles08 · 2 years ago

Note

gasp, here i go. 5

oh boy oh boy

5. A Reunion Kiss

Donatello's leg kept bouncing up and down, fingers tapping the back of the cards in his hand. While he tried to focus on the pictures and numbers--a deck of lou jitsu themed cards of course--his gaze kept moving to the side to the digital clock in the kitchen.

"Donnie."

3:04 PM. The plane should have landed four minutes ago, if one assumed that everything at the airport went as scheduled which it never did.

"Don."

And from there one needed to calculate the driving time from the airport to their apartment complex. Roughly forty five minutes with typical traffic, over an hour with bad traffic, and just a measly twenty minutes if somehow the roads were magically clear. But how would he go about calculating the amount of traffic on the road? He could open a search but he was--

"Donnie!" Leo's shout finally register in his brain.

Donatello glanced up from his cards to everyone else sitting at the table. Leo, Mikey, and April all sat in the other chairs, cards in hand.

Just the four of them tonight, not surprising. Cassandra and Raph often had their hands full and their father retired early for a nap on the sofa.

"Hey, are you even in there right now?" Leo waved at him. "Your turn."

"Sorry." Donatello mumbled, glancing at the clock once more. 3:07.

April snorted and put her cards face down on the table. "I'd just give it up Leo. Today's the day Jase gets back from Chicago, right?"

Donatello held the aged playing cards closer to his face to hide his expression. "Indeed. His plane might have just landed."

"Huh? That's today." Leo tilted his head. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Yeah." Mikey chimed. "Why aren't you at your apartment waiting for him? Oooh with some relaxing tea? Or music?" Then he snickered. "Maybe some candles and rose petals?"

Donatello shot him a glare as Leo and April snickered at the idea. "Hilarious, but if I tried doing that today I would have just been pacing around for eight hours waiting for him to get there. Playing some games with you guys seemed like a better use of my time."

"Okay, sure." April shrugged. "Appreciated, but if he's on his way to your apartment now you should..."

"Right." Donatello dropped his cards as he stood. "Apologies for bailing out."

"Nah," Leo waved a hand. "Get home to the boyfriend. Speaking of, when's the wedding proposal already?"

"Yeah." Mikey grinned. "I'm already thinking of a catering menu."

"Wedding proposal is happening at Nunya." He stuck out his tongue and headed for the door.

"You don't want a portal back?" Leo asked.

"Nah, killing the time would do me some good." He gave them one more wave before heading out.

Once outside, Donatello activated his shell, flying through the city at a casual pace. He checked his gauntlet as he moved, looking to see if the plane had indeed landed--it had--and the amount of traffic reported. Normal levels, so forty five minutes. He checked the clock again. 3:25.

Donatello landed on the roof of his apartment complex by 3:31. He slipped inside from the roof door. He only needed to walk down the one set of stairs, living on the top floor gave him easy roof access which he liked. The downside was the long trip to the basement to get to the Hidden City door.

As he entered the hallway he saw Hypno and Warren heading out, just locking their door.

"Evening." Donatello said.

Hypno's ears moved up before he turned, Warren perched on his shoulder like always. "Ah, good evening Donnie. Jase is finally getting back tonight, right?"

"Soon, actually, figured I should be home when he did."

"Hah, good thing we're going out then." Warren winked at him.

Donatello curled his lip. "Scoff. Even if that was in the plan you know how much sound proofing I did to these units when I had this place built. You're welcome."

"Eh, we'll leave you to it." Hypno said and moved his hand up to stop Warren from making another comment. "We'll just say hi to him later tonight. You guys have dinner plans? Warren and I could bring something from our favorite Chinese place."

"That sounds good." Donatello smiled as he opened the door. "But I'll have to ask him. Text you?"

"Sure thing." Both the magician and the anchorman gave him a wave before heading to the stairway.

Donatello stepped into the apartment and shut the door. Quiet, so quiet, too quiet, part of the reason he hated hanging around here when Jase wasn't home. His boyfriend--now in charge of running the surface branch of VHHB--sometimes went out of town for big tech conventions with a handful of staff. Donatello was glad for it, knew their tech sales never would have gotten off the ground otherwise without it but...

It was so quiet.

Donatello at least took some of Mikey's advice and flipped on the TV so it could start playing music from his and Jase's shared playlist. The ambience helped, but he still found himself pacing. Nothing to clean or put away. He didn't bother making any tea but did decide to put together a light mixed drink.

He moved to check the clock again, didn't get the chance. The door clicked.

Donatello scrambled out of the kitchen and stared, watching the door open.

Jase stood there, suitcase behind him. He looked tired--always did after flying--but at least his eyes lit up when he saw Donatello.

"Hey Don--"

He didn't get to finish that statement. Donatello rushed forward, picking him up off the ground, almost taking the bag with him if Jase hadn't let go of it.

"Wh--hey." Jase glared at him. "Come on, I just got home and you're already--"

"Yes." Donatello kissed him on the cheek. "I missed you."

Jase sighed, not protesting as his face was peppered with more kisses. "Yeah, I missed you too. I also miss my feet staying on the floor."

"If you missed me then where's my 'I missed you' kiss?" Donatello pressed their foreheads together, smirking.

Jase rolled his eyes, but smiled before he grabbed Donatello's face and tugged him into a firm kiss.

Donatello sighed, ignoring the urge to adjust his grip and dip Jase toward the floor.

"So good to be back." Jase sighed. "Now seriously, I've already been high in the air today I would like to come down."

Donatello set him on the floor, but snatched up the luggage before his boyfriend could do it. "Go sit down. Made you a drink in the kitchen if you want it. Movie night? Reading night?"

"Reading. Movie won't help my incoming headache." He sighed. "What's dinner?"

"Hypno offered to grab Chinese, if you're up for socializing with them for a bit."

"Yeah, that's fine." Jase stretched his back. "But they better not stay late." He reached up, finger tapping against the top of Donatello's plastron before trailing down the sleeve of his jacket. Then it paused. He tilted his head before his fingers slid under the hem and snatched out a playing card.

He raised an eyebrow. "What is this?"

"Oh, woops." Donatello bit his lip. "Was trying to beat Leo at his own game."

"Donnie." Jase tapped the card against Donatello's nose. "Were you cheating?"

He glanced to the side. "Maybe."

Jase hummed. "Okay, get down here and kiss me again."

#scribbly fics #jasonnie #rottmnt #wow did I over write for this or WHAT #whatever still fun #yes Donnie had that complex built/refurbished #a whole bunch of mutants live there now #cheaper rent for them and also safe to hang around in #also Leo loves slight of hand no way he does not cheat at cards #so now Donnie is doing it

21 notes · View notes

enigmatist17 · 7 months ago

Text

Rewind (Pt 6)

Part 1 2 3 4 5

---

Penn had been enjoying a nice drink after a successful hunt when the prickle of nearby family trailed up his spine, eyes that had been casually scanning the bar crowd on the floor below him snapping up as someone joined his table.

"Penn." Brilliant blue eyes flecked with gold he hadn't seen in a good century met his gaze as he held Penn's stare.

"Spike." Penn frowned when he took in the others' scent, Spike nearly brimming with a power he should not have at his age, along with something else that set his teeth on edge. "You look good."

"Always do." The Brit purred as a drink was set in front of him, a pale hand grabbing the glass and bringing it to his lips. "How's Chicago treated you?"

"Very well, although I won't be here much longer." The city had been a fun distraction from his usual mission, but he had grown to dislike the winters and how sluggish he felt, so he had been eyeing the West Coast once more. "Hard to hunt when the city can be locked down with ice for days at a time."

"I feel you there." The younger scoffed, eyeing the crowds more in interest than looking for a bite. "Dru got so mad bein' stuck for weeks when we went ta Russia once, never went back."

"How is she? I've heard that she'd with some sort of chaos demon." There was a low growl from the other as Spike took another sip of his drink, blue eyes now entirely gold. "Sore spot?"

"Ask again and yer dust."

Fair enough

"So...why are you here? It's always nice to see family, but I doubt we're crossing paths." Penn knew Spike had always appreciated straightforwardness, and the younger nodded, eyeing Penn with a look the former Puritan couldn't put a description on.

"I 'ad this whole speech planned, you know." Spike ran a finger around the rim of his glass with a hum, his attention on Penn oddly serious for the first time since the older vampire could remember. "Then again, not one for 'em."

"This is true." Penn chuckled, tugging at his collar as he cleared his throat, wondering when the room had grown warmer.

"Man of action I am," Spike chuckled, draining his glass and setting it aside. "Easier ta show you if I'm honest."

"S-Show me what?" Spike said nothing as he watched Penn tug at his collar once again, confusion filtering through cerulean eyes as he watched Spike.

"You'll see." The room spins before Penn can snarl, and soon, he's falling into familiar arms as darkness envelops him.

Rat bastard

"Next time, I double the dosage." No one in the bar bats an eye at the vampire "helping" a drunk friend out the door, dragging him around the side of the building and to the idling car waiting for him.

"I'm almost disappointed he didn't fight." Spike rolled his eyes as he pulled out some rope, tying Penn up before putting him in the backseat, covering him with a blanket, and climbing into the passenger seat.

"Shut your yap and get drivin', I've got to dose 'im before our bloody flight."

"Yes sir." Spike snorted at the one-finger salute he received before kicking back, letting his newly acquired companion take them to the airport. He knew Penn was going to be beyond furious when he woke up, but memories of fighting in a city drawn to hell played in the back of his mind on a constant loop and, as such, overrode his discomfort at dragging a potential unwilling ally to the agony he felt every day in his chest.

"You're touching your chest again." Sighing, Spike looked over at the other vampire in the car, pulling his hand from his chest once again. Despite having snapped Sam Lawson up almost a week ago, he hadn't said much aside from telling Sam about Penn and his desire to grab his wayward family member.

"I am." Spike let his face shift as he focused on Penn, making sure the other man was truly out of it before digging through his duster and pulling out his smokes and lighter. "Soddin' soul burns all the time."

"....your what." If it hadn't been for his training in the military, Sam would have slammed on the brakes in shock, instead gripping the wheel so tight it nearly snapped. "I hear you right?"

"You did." Spike was clearly hesitant to explain, so Sam waited patiently. "Got my soul for someone, and if I 'ave my say, so will Penn. Might be able to help you out as well."

"....oh." He really doesn't have too much more to say, just focusing on driving to the airport in the distance.

---

Two weeks before Spike had dragged Sam all the way to Chicago, he had tracked the sailor down in New Orleans. He wasn't surprised to find that Sam had taken up in an old warehouse by the waterfront, the older vampire taking over a room in a hotel before awaiting the first full night in town. Sam was out hunting as the last shade of daylight faded into night, Spike fairly amused to see the former sailor seemed unable to shake wearing a peacoat reminiscent of the time he'd been born in. He drifted amongst the early bar crowds with practiced ease, Spike surprised he didn't yank drunk girls from the alley for an easy snack. No, Sam drifts until he and Spike hear some muffled pleading down a quiet street, Spike scaling a building to watch from above as Sam heads toward the sound. Two men had cornered a drunk woman and were in the process of tearing her dress apart when Sam seemed to come from nowhere, sending one flying across the alley into a wall while the second man stares, quivering at the sound of bone crunching.

"Best run along now, miss. I'll handle these two." Sam's voice is calm as the woman bolts for it, the vampire striking like a cobra before the second man can do more than take a breath. Spike grins as the struggles cease within a few moments, Sam dropping the body with a noise of disgust before going for his second meal. The elder vampire watched Sam pull out a small vial and sprinkle some dust over the bite wounds once he was done, the familiar wound changing to more of a jagged edge before stalking off into the night in satisfaction. The next night repeats almost similarly, Sam draining a thief who nearly killed a store clerk and a kidnapper who nearly made off with a child before seemingly calling it for the night. Spike decided he'd seen enough when he obviously tailed Sam, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it when he's guided to an alley.

"Judging by the strange sensation on my spine, you're not a normal vampire." Sam turned once they were out of sight, head tilted slightly as he studied Spike while undoubtedly preparing for attack. "Have we met?"

"Sure 'ave son, swam together to escape the soddin' sun once." Hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, Spike saw a flicker of recognition in those dark blue eyes, followed by caution.

"How'd you find me?"

"Know a demon, who knows a demon, who knows a human." An exhale of white smoke trails up into the air as vampire regards vampire. "Got a proposition for ya."

"Oh?" Sam was curious more than he was cautious, guard still up as he waited.

"Heard you've got an issue with your soul and all that, can't be a normal bloke killin' in the night an' all that rot. You 'elp me with...a project o' mine, and I can fix it." Spike had battled with himself on how to approach Sam after he'd left Wesley a few weeks back, and in usual fashion, decided to wing it last second with blunt honesty.

"...how do you know any of that?" Sam's eyes narrowed as he stared at Spike, who didn't seem to give a single crap about his half-a-soul deal.

"Like I said, know a bloke who knows a bloke." Vague answer once more, but it would take an eternity to explain everything, they can do that later. "Think of it as a mission, yea?"

Come on kid, take the bait

"A mission?" For some reason, the word clicked with Sam on some innate level, and his initial distrust fades slightly. "How do I know you won't dust me when my back is turned?"

"If I'm gonna dust ya, it'll be in a fight." Spike growled a little, and Sam nodded his head. "Don't take me for a bleedin' coward, Lawson."

"Fair enough." Sam didn't really know much about Spike, but as long as he was blunt, Sam could handle it. "Count me in, sir."

"Just what I wanted to hear." Spike grinned, eyes glittering as he finished off his smoke.

---

They end up on a flight to New Zealand, of all places, and Sam is more than curious about the country and what it has to offer. He hadn't traveled very far over the years after the War, finding little to no enjoyment in the prospect of seeing cities full of humans who lived their lives with purpose. Apathy had been his friend until Spike showed back up in his unlife, and for the first time since his last mission as a human, Sam was hopeful.

Also nervous.

Spike must have had their flight prepared for a while, the not-entirely-human staff not blinking an eye as a drugged Penn was strapped into a seat in first class. They placed some sort of ward around him after the flight had taken off and begun its long journey across the world, and the older vampire slept peacefully throughout their journey, giving Sam some time to see a proper Aurelian up close since his initial siring. There was a tingle along Sam's spine when he gathered the courage four hours in to move to a closer seat, this one running deeper into his bones than Spike's initial tell did, and he could have sworn there was the taste of magic to his particular scent.

"Angelus didn't care for turning a budding magic user." Spike's voice nearly made Sam jump, the blonde lighting up a smoke as he sprawled out on the seat behind Sam's. "Always found that funny."

"What's the matter with magic users?" Spike's lips twitched in a small smile at the curious look Sam was trying to pass off as blasé, and he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Well, nothin' really," He started, waving at one of the flight attendants for a refill of his drink. "as long as you do it properly. Magic is more dangerous than any demon you've ever seen or will see, because it always takes somethin' in return. Angelus was a right bastard throwin' him out, in my opinion; he always waxed poetic about how Penn was one of his favorites."

"Can anyone learn magic?" Sam looked back over at Penn, curious as he watched the unconscious vampire.

"Depends, couldn't tell you without tastin' your blood." Spike shrugged, eyeing Sam with a neutral expression. "Defensive spells don't need much power, we could always start there if things work out."

"...alright." Sam shrugged, returning to his original seat to wait out the rest of the flight in relative solitude, mulling over their conversation. A woman is waiting for them when their flight arrives in the dead of night, helping to offload Penn into a van once the humans have all departed the plane. The woman who had been waiting drove the three vampires to some sort of ranch that was a few good hours away from the airport; Sam's hackles raised when magic drowned out his senses the moment they drove over the threshold.

"Welcome to yer first coven kid, breathe in and out." Spike seemed at ease while Sam struggled to do as he'd been told, Penn groaning in discomfort from his spot on the floor as the drugs began to slowly wear off. This coven had prepared for them, the van stopping outside a smaller building that dotted the expansive countryside where a few people were waiting. Penn is chained up to a bed while a locket is clasped around his neck, Sam watching with wide eyes as it seems to melt into Penn's body.

"It will prevent him from casting magic to escape." A woman, the word witch crossing his mind, smiled at the younger vampire. "It will not cause him pain."

"I see." The witches who chained him up barely have enough time to get out of biting range when Penn finally fights off the last of the drugs, his demon immediately coming to the forefront as he looks around with a snarl.

"What the hell is this?" Sam felt himself subtly bare his neck to the far more powerful demon in the room, Penn sparing him a confused glance before he was distracted by Spike, whose own demon was out and staring Penn down. "What did you do?"

"I 'aven't done anything yet, but I will soon." Spike tilted his head slightly as he held Penn's gaze, gaze serious as the elder tugged at his chains.

"Awful lot of work to dust me." Penn sneered, his false bravado fooling no one as he finally broke the staring contest with Spike, eyeing the door where he could smell a few witches. "They stink of magic."

"Bloody should, we're in the middle of a coven, you idiot." Spike rolled his eyes as he leaned against the wall behind him, crossing his arms as Penn gave up on trying to rip the chains from the wall. "Not killin' you either, more like...recruitin'."

"Recruiting? You think drugging and kidnapping someone is a great way to recruit them?" Penn wasn't sure how to really process this, so he settled for shifting his face back to its human visage and kneeling on top of the bed he'd been placed on, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why would I help you after this?"

"Because you will, willingly or otherwise." The steel in Spike's words kept both his and Sam's attention as he took a drag from a fresh cigarette, mulling over his next words. "I'd rather you work with me."

"You could have asked, I may not know much about you, but family is family." Penn sounded annoyed as Spike shook his head, casting a glance at the other vampire Penn had never seen before. "Also, who are you?"

"Sam Lawson." The other man seemed a bit hesitant to have attention drawn to his little corner of the room, but otherwise continued to watch in silence.

"Sammy 'ere already plays nice, and you're going to do the same soon." Spike drawled, Penn's attention falling back to him. "See, where you're needed, I can't 'ave you killin' all those lovely little happy meals on legs."

"I don't do mass murders you know." Penn scoffed, almost insulted. "Besides, most vagrants and runaways go unnoticed long enough, so what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." Penn blinks at the edged tone in Spike's words as he pushes up off the wall, whistling to Sam as he motions to the door. "Go and get some sleep, you don't need to be 'ere for this."

"He's going to be alright?" Sam straightened as he looked at Penn with a frown, the elder actually letting some discomfort flash across his face.

"In a way. Now, go."

"Yes sir."

---

Penn wasn't nervous about a lot of things, but being restrained in the middle of a coven was oddly on that short list. Seven witches entered the room he was in after Sam disappeared further into the building he'd awoken in, all of them staring at Penn while the one he figured as the leader stood at the foot of the bed.

"What's all this for?" Penn could have winced at the slight tremble to his words, the lead witch pulling a small orb from inside her robes and cradling it in her hands.

"We do not normally impart a spell this powerful on an unwilling being, but these are unusual circumstances." Her voice seemed to soothe some of Penn's anxiety, the vampire gazing into onyx eyes that warmed his long-dead heart the longer he stared. He should find this stranger irritating, should want to rip her throat out and drain her dry, but those feelings fade as fast as they appear.

"What...what will..."

"This spell will free you, dearest Vincent, but impart upon you pain that will never fade." He doesn't move when she shifts the orb into one hand, reaching out with the other to lay her hand on his cheek without any reaction. "You will be better for it, however, in the end."

"How?" The orb that is placed over his chest doesn't seem so harmless, and Penn struggles to shake off the voice that is turning him to putty. "I don't...how did you...know-"

"A vision unlike any other revealed to me many things, Vincent, from the past to the future." The lead witch soothed as the six behind her began to chant, the orb slowly taking on a brilliant light. "I have seen the horrors you have committed, but the salvation you will help bring in the future."

Penn is confused as he finally looks down, catching sight of the orb as the head witch pulls her hand away, now using both to hold it against his chest.

"It will all make sense."

There's a sudden bright flash, and for a moment, the only noise was the panting of seven exhausted witches, all of them drained by a spell they'd received in their dreams.

Then came the screams.

#personal #angel the series #buffy the vampire slayer #spike #spike btvs #sam lawson #penn #penn ats #time travel #fix it au #rewind #lets goooo

1 note · View note

mezzowatch · 7 years ago

Photo

serious advice from serious opera singers

#i'm stuck in an airport for 5 hours because of the blizzard in chicago so i'm just sitting here drinking beer and annotating this book #and gettig inordinately angry at all of david daniel's answers #opera #personal #christine goerke

29 notes · View notes

redhairedwolfwitch · 3 years ago

Text

Doctor Y/n - Residency - 36 - Grey's Anatomy x Fem!Reader

The first time you took a flight was with a social worker when you were ten years old. You were being flown out to a foster home, out of state.

You were sat in the window seat then, just like you were now, on your flight back to Seattle from New York.

Headphones in, music playing that Jo had put onto the old MP3 player as you had the hood up of your Yale hoodie.

Nobody but Jo knew you owned more than one Yale hoodie.

It was Amelia that picked you up at the airport.

"So, are you leaving me for New York?" Amelia enquired as she helped you load your luggage into the back of her car.

"I don't know yet, but I'm in trouble with Bailey-"

"Nah, you're not in trouble, she read the article you did with Torres, so it's probably about that." Amelia replied, shrugging as you hopped into the passenger seat.

"Did anyone else read it?"

"I think everyone at Grey-Sloan has read it." Amelia chuckled, putting the car into gear.

///

"S/n, my office." Bailey stated, leaving you to look up at the balcony as Jo sniggered to herself.

"It's like you've been called to the headteacher's office-" Jo was cut off as you stuck your tongue out, nudging her in the ribs before heading up to talk to Bailey.

"Flying to New York on your day off to work with Doctor Torres?" Bailey raised an eyebrow, watching as you grimaced at her tone.

"I took a risk. I want to do ortho, chief. If I can't do an ortho fellowship here, I have to start over somewhere else. Doctor Torres and I were discussing a concept on the phone for ages and it turned into writing an article."

"I will admit, it is a good article, and has shown a light on our residency program's ortho teachings... plus, it made me realise how much Grey Sloan could benefit from you and you could benefit from Grey Sloan. I've spoken to Doctor Torres, Grey Sloan would like to make you an offer of an ortho fellowship, whilst collaborating with Doctor Torres in New York." Bailey stated, passing you a stack of papers.

"Read it over, think about it, tell me what you think in three days." Bailey instructed, leaving you to nod and walk out.

"Braces?" Jo raised an eyebrow, spotting how you were smiling instead of trembling in fear.

"What's she so happy about?" Alex asked, watching as Jo raised an eyebrow.

"I have no idea." Jo admitted, shaking her head as she watched you walk away.

///

"Hey, I've been looking for you-"

"Come with us, right now. Y/n, you too." Arizona ordered, her voice shaky as she and Owen walked into the ER.

"What's going on?" You asked as a curtain was pulled forwards, leaving you and Owen to exchange looks.

"What's going on?"

"Long story." Owen grunted, leaving you to frown before April pulled you over, telling you to hold Arizona's hand.

"Wh- okay..." You mumbled, staring at the wall whilst April conducted the ultrasounds.

"You're sure that I'm clean? You're 100% sure-" Arizona whimpered, gripping your hand as you kept staring at the wall.

"They look totally clean, see for yourself!" April stated, frowning as Owen pulled the curtain back to look at the scans himself.

"Um she's like-" April began but Arizona let out a sob.

"Oh, we're way past that." She stated, leaving you to raise an eyebrow at the wall.

"You're okay." Owen affirmed, leaving Arizona to let out a watery sob.

"I'm okay. He fakes the ultrasounds." Arizona stated, wrapping the paper gown around herself and letting go off your hand.

"He is poisoning completely healthy women, probably just to charge them for the chemo." Owen growled, leaving you and April to stare in horror at what was going on.

"What he does to these women, what he puts these families through-" Arizona rambled, leaving you to pause.

"Wait, it's happened before, a different doctor, in Chicago. He was diagnosing cancers that these women didn't have, then overdosing them on chemo. He ended up in jail. This doctor has to be stopped." You affirmed, leaving Arizona to shake her head.

"No, we need to destroy him. Owen-" Arizona called out as Owen stormed out the door.

"You told me not to take it out on the interns." He stated before the door slammed shut.

///

"Are you doing okay?" You tentatively asked as Arizona sat down on the couch. She had just read Sofia to sleep and now you were sat on her couch, instead of hooking up with a one night stand from a bar.

"Today was terrifying." Arizona admitted, reaching for the bottle of wine so she could pour it.

"I'm happy you're okay though... and I'm really glad that that doctor was arrested too." You replied, reaching for the apple slices that you had dipped in the peanut butter.

"Me too, Y/n, me too." Arizona replied, watching you eat your snack with an amused look.

"What?" You murmured, mouth full of peanut butter.

"You got that idea from Sofia's lunch box, didn't you?" She teased, watching as you looked like a deer in headlights.

A chuckle left Arizona's lips as you crunched on an apple slice.

"You really are like my second child, you know?"

"I thought I was your sister?" A fake gasp left your lips, "I'm adopted?" you teased, laughing as Arizona broke into a laugh too.

///

"S/n, I need you to take any ortho cases in the pit, Hunt is on a case for Robbins so I'm covering the pit." Kepner instructed, leaving you to nod and head over to the football player with a broken ankle.

///

"Is that what you did? You faked your death?" Meredith asked as Jo began to give instructions on changing identities.

"No, Braces suggested I change my name and we move states instead. She didn't have much of an internet presence anyway, so finding Braces back then was a needle in a haystack. My plan B was faking my death. Instead, I legally changed my name and I moved states. But Braces and I were hiding from a person, not a whole country." Jo explained, frowning as Bello argued she didn't want to become another person.

///

"Braces, can we talk?" Jo asked, finding you waiting for some scans to load up.

"These scans are taking a bit, what's up?" You replied, raising an eyebrow as Jo chewed her lip.

"Remember when I legally changed my name? Well... I want to take Alex's name when we get married, because I've never had the last name of anyone who has loved me." Jo explained, waiting for your reaction.

"You know I'm still going to call you Joey right? I called you Joey way before you were Jo Wilson. To me, you are Joey, a baby kangaroo, and my best friend... no matter how far away we are from each other." You replied, leaving Jo to give you a watery smile.

"You're such a sap." Jo laughed, leaving you to grin and pull her into a hug.

"I love you, Joey. I'm happy for you."

"I love you too, Braces." Jo murmured, leaning into your hug.

///

"Hey, Y/n, want a cookie? They're lesbian gratitude cookies." Arizona grinned, waving the tin in front of your face.

"My favourite type of cookie, literally and figuratively." You grinned, taking one before Arizona moved the tin closer so you'd take another two.

"Are you coming to the press room?"

"I'm going to grab my water, check my emails and some post-ops, so I'll be like half an hour?" You replied, eating a mouthful of cookie as Arizona grinned and told you not to take too long.

///

"Y/n are you alright? You look out of it..." Hannah Brody found you sat in the residents lounge, water bottle against your head as you'd given up reading your emails.

"Feel kinda spacey... and shivery, has it always been this cold?" You asked, running your hands down your face.

"Here, take this." Hannah passed you her hoodie, turning away as you discarded your scrub top and pulled the hoodie on over your head.

"I have to get to rounds, but we should get you to someone..." Hannah affirmed, helping you up as you mumbled about seeing stars.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Brody? Is she sick? I think Doctor Shepherd is in her lab." Leah began, freezing as you began to sob at the sight of her.

"Brody, take Doctor S/n to Doctor Shepherd then get back to work." Leah could feel the pain in her chest at your sobbing, watching as Hannah walked you down the corridor.

///

"Hi, could you um, you see that cookie tin up there? Could you go get those cookies for me? I'm a little, uh, wobbly. I can't."

"I'm not going up there. Go eat the cafeteria cookies from the green room." Meredith refused, leaving Arizona to sigh.

"Okay. Come here. My patient accidently used peanut-butter cannabis that her wife had got her when she was going through chemo. One thing led to another, and, um, I seem to have given a lot of people weed cookies, um, with an unknown and immeasurable amount of weed in them." Arizona awkwardly whispered as Jo and Meredith looked at her in disbelief.

"Who had the cookies?" Meredith replied, looking around the room as Arizona awkwardly grinned.

"Who didn't?"

///

"Brody, what are you doing with Doctor S/n?" Amelia questioned, spotting Hannah holding you as the two of you walked towards her.

"Hi..." You murmured, moving out of Hannah's arms to wrap your arms around her.

"You're my sister, right? You're the best, you're my favourite neurosurgeon..."

"Okay, what did she eat?" Amelia turned to Brody, who shook her head.

"I found her in the residents lounge, she looked ill and Doctor Murphy told me to bring her to you... I'm being paged, sorry!" Hannah apologised, hurrying away, leaving you with Amelia.

"Well, that's just great... hi, Y/n," Amelia cooed, distracting you as you hugged her, "let's go find everyone else, shall we? Okay, Y/n, work with me here, we gotta walk..." Amelia stated, trying to walk with you to find anyone else.

///

"Okay, so listen, no-one goes anywhere until you're sober- Amelia? What's-"

"Who gave Y/n weed cookies?" Amelia asked, getting through the double doors with you hugging her.

"Joey!"

"Ingesting marijuana has a much stronger effect, and it lasts much longer than when you smoke it so-"

"True story, we get kids in the ER all the time, they like the cookies and the brownies and the candies. They should label that stuff better." April interrupted, leaving you to glance up from where you were hugging Amelia to spot Jo again.

"Joey! Hi! You're my favourite... you're the best and, and I love you..." You announced, leaving Jo to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Everyone stays here. There's no medicine, no surgery, and no patient interaction."

"I'm just going to send some orders-" Maggie began to type, leaving Meredith to hurry over.

"No you are not, everyone give your phones to Wilson... who is... S/n, are you going to hold onto her or can she get back to work?" Meredith asked, leaving both Jo and her to stare in horror as you began to sob.

"You're so pretty. You look like a cartoon."

"Hey, Braces, wanna go over to 'Zona?" Jo gently tried to move you over to Arizona before hurrying out.

"Hey, Andrew? Andrew, you in there?" Arizona asked, holding you with one arm as you hugged her, whilst she tried to check DeLuca was still semi-responsive.

"Pierce? Oh god, Pierce! Y/n, we gotta move, come on." Arizona replied, pulling you along as she hurried after Maggie.

"Pierce. Pierce, hey stop... Y/n, we gotta move... hey, we gotta go." Arizona grabbed DeLuca as the three of you followed Maggie to the lab skills room.

"No, no, no, you have never been high before, you need to be with people who can help you and keep you safe."

"I've never been high before either, 'zona..." You murmured, leaving Arizona to tense.

"I don't, I don't think I need my neck anymore." Maggie declared, leaving Arizona to herd you, Maggie and DeLuca into the skills lab.

You didn't see Leah watching you worriedly from down the corridor, now aware that you were under the influence of marijuana from cookies.

///

"What do we do now?"

"Oh, we just have to wait for it to pass. But we can - I mean, we can hang out and talk, you know? Just say whatever comes into our heads." Arizona explained to Maggie.

"Just press play and see what comes out." Arizona suggested, looking around the room.

DeLuca was laying on the floor whilst you were sat in the corner.

"The foot bone's connected to the leg bone, the leg bone's connected to the knee bone, the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone..." You began to sing, leaving Maggie to frown as Arizona giggled.

"She's such an ortho nerd, even when high!"

///

"Where's the liver? Have you seen it? It's liver shaped? Y/n, don't start singing about organs next, I need you to help me find this patient's liver!" Maggie exclaimed, leaving you to get up with a stumble.

"Where'd it go?" You murmured, tapping some buttons on the surgical dissection table.

"Okay, it's red. It helped metabolise things, it eliminated toxins and, now it's gone!" Maggie exclaimed as you heard Arizona speak.

"Eventually, everyone leaves me."

"'Zona, are you reading a story of my life or something? Are you in my brain? No, no, the drugs are in my brain... but the liver isn't in this patient. We lost the liver!" You squeaked, sitting on the floor as Maggie ran around the other side of the table.

"What if she dies? Because we lost the liver!" Maggie exclaimed, tapping on the table as Arizona kept rambling about being ghosted and you were distracted by the toggles of Hannah's hoodie.

///

"Time of death. 16:06. Acute liver... disappearance. We did everything we could, but we could not save her-"

Maggie was cut off as she heard a snore, leaving Arizona to look over the table to spot you as DeLuca's crying was also heard throughout the skills lab.

///

"Braces! Hey, Braces! Wake up!" Jo cooed, trying to stir you from your nap.

"Mmm, what?" You murmured, cracking open one eye to notice Jo lingering over you.

"Joey... what's up?" You booped Jo's nose with your finger, ellicting a giggle from her.

"I saved a patient's life and his quality of life today!"

"That's awesome!" You replied, pausing as you realised what you were wearing.

"Whose hoodie are you wearing anyway? Because I know that's not one of yours." Jo asked, leaving you to chuckle as Jo tried to remove it.

"Hey, I don't have a top on underneath, last thing we need is a rumour of you taking off my hoodie like that." You laughed, leaving Jo to let out a breath.

"True, I've seen it all before though. You better have not stolen that hoodie... I have to pick up Alex from Amelia's, how are you getting back to yours?" Jo enquired as you stood up.

"Bus, all the people I'd ask for a ride from ate the cookies." You shrugged, leaning against the doorway as Jo kissed your cheek and left.

"Y/n, come on, you're coming with me, Maggie and DeLuca." Meredith stated, leaving you to vaguely nod.

You didn't expect to end up asleep on part of Meredith's couch, as DeLuca slept a bit away from you, Meredith looking at her mother's journals and Maggie eating a large cheeseboard.

///

Tags: @nnightskiess @emskisworld @multifandomlesbianic

#grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy imagine #grey's anatomy #jo wilson x reader #jo wilson imagine #jo wilson #arizona robbins #callie torres #miranda bailey #amelia shepherd #alex karev #teddy altman #owen hunt #april kepner #meredith grey #andrew deluca #hannah brody #leah murphy #maggie pierce

115 notes · View notes

plaidbooks · 3 years ago

Note

Very random but HC of ADA Sonny and Reader where she is stuck in another city due to lockdown and he realizes his 'work friend' is so much more coz he misses her. Please and thank you💫

(I'm not writing about covid, so this is a blizzard)

"Stay safe and stay off your phone, doll. Who knows when you'll have power again," Sonny said into his phone. You thanked him then hung up, taking his advice and staying off the phone.

Sonny slumped into his office chair. He ran a hand through his hair--you were stuck in Chicago for the foreseeable future, stuck in a nasty blizzard. Sighing, he sent a quick text to Liv, letting her know you wouldn't be back to work for a little, but would keep her updated.

By the next day, he was already missing you. He missed your smile, your laugh, the way you glanced at him when someone else said something stupid, pure mirth in your eyes. He missed how easy it was to talk to you, both in and out of work. He missed you.

By the second day of you snowed out in Chicago, Sonny had half a mind to drive there and pick you up. He'd wade through the elements for you. Your phone had since died--there was no charging it--and he was losing his mind with worry.

By the third day, he recognized that he had feelings for you, but he shoved them down. It was just because he missed you, nothing more. But when he saw an unknown number from Chicago, and when he heard your voice for the first time in three days, it was hard to not cry in relief.

"Phone's still dead, so I'm calling from the airport. My flight is set to leave in an hour. Cross your fingers for me," you said.

"I will. Please, get home safe and sound," he replied. There was something in his voice; some sort of longing, pleading with whoever was listening to bring you home safely.

When an hour had past and he didn't hear from you, he gathered his things and left work. He drove to JFK airport, and watched the "Arrivals" board until your plane landed. He waited right outside security, eyes flicking over everyone who got off, looking for the familiarity of you.

And once he saw you, he couldn't stop the smile that spread. You looked--well, exhausted; hair barely contained, jacket falling from your shoulder, deep bags under your eyes. But to him, you looked perfect.

You brightened when you saw Sonny standing there, and you ran towards him, dragging your luggage along. He wrapped you up in a monstrous hug, lifting you off the ground and burying his face in your shoulder.

"I've missed you," he said, voice muffled against your jacket.

He placed you down and you grabbed your luggage. "I missed you, too, Sonny.... Did you really drive here to pick me up?"

"Absolutely, doll. And," he smirked, linking his arm with yours, "I'm also kidnappin' ya, makin' ya dinner tonight."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I don't know if I'll stay awake long enough for dinner."

"Well, sleep on the way. And ya know I got a comfy guest bed with your name on it."

You smiled, so happy that you had someone like Sonny in your life. And he grinned back, wondering if he should wait to tell you his feelings until after you've slept, or during dinner.

#sonny carisi x reader #ficlet #my writing

45 notes · View notes

y0itsbri · 3 years ago

Text

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

#gw2021 #gw2021day3 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my posts #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction

98 notes · View notes