#is it weird to give a friend a quilt I’ve made if I’ve also used the quilt as a quilt?

[tj-crochets]

Scrap quilt progress! I made four more of the 12” blocks today, which means I have aaaalmost enough to make a 4’ by 6’ scrap quilt currently. I’m not sure how big I want it to be when I finally sew it together, but I’m thinking maybe twin sized? Maybe large throw?

[zentloper-xmas]

Christmas 2017

Hello all from the “Zentloper” abode,

I’ve always wanted to do an annual Christmas letter. It was a tradition in my family growing up; Dad would round up all our input about what significant events that had happened over the year to include and then he’d type it up and we’d all gather around the table putting our signatures on the cards as we readied them for the mail. In my first marriage, I didn’t have too many friends and family to differentiate myself from the old “Zentler Xmas Letter” and could not justify partaking. But things have changed considerably, choices made, lives rehashed, and this year I find myself in the circumstance where it makes sense to gather a list of people to whom extending a seasonal greeting seems appropriate. Congrats, you made the list. ;)

So where to begin? 2017 has been a rather blessed year for Neil and I, most things considered. We still reside in our little studio apartment on the second floor of a complex in the middle of San Jose, but that may be changing next year. Ultimately, we both want a house somewhat secluded from the grid while remaining in Silicon Valley, but there’s a lot of saving left to do to make that dream a reality. Somehow, I’m confident, we’ll make it work. Until then, our heads are filled with daydreams of home ownership and little do-it- yourself projects– I guess that’s fairly normal for two people embarking on life together.

Of course, it would also be preferable if said domicile had a multi-car garage... Our “fleet” as Neil calls it, has expanded from two vehicles to four over the course of this calendar year. His most recent acquisition– a 1983 Chevrolet Camaro Z28– has been a source of entertaining joy-rides and mechanical (mis)adventures, with the promise of “many more to come.” Early this year, back in February, he also purchased a new motorcycle; namely, a 2017 Indian Springfield, and his old bike, a 2013 Yahama V-Star became my baby. I’ve had my fun decking it out, adding a windshield, repainting the saddlebags, giving it a tank bib, and more. But more importantly, the purchase enabled us to take many wonderful weekend rides together, exploring destinations throughout California: taking in the gorgeous views, reveling in the sensation of freedom as we glide down the road through twists and turns, and enjoying one another’s company. We hit up lots of National Parks and beaches or just cruised unfamiliar stretches of pavement for the heck of it. On our way to Reno in June, we unexpectedly hit snow– very glad we avoided frostbite on our toes. Our year’s capstone ride was Las Vegas in August, crossing the desert in the scorching summer heat. I decided to assemble a quilt of California such that we could document our journeys with patches and pins from each location.

We do wish we had more free time to take advantage of together. Neil has been working with Schwan’s Home Food Service for almost a year now, which has a good salary and benefits but incredibly long hours. Of course Neil, overachiever that he is, has excelled in the role; he’s the second highest Sales Rep in the region or something like that, which is most of the West coast. I’m immeasurably proud of him.

Meanwhile, I’ve been on the path of pursuing my Masters in Business Administration at San Jose State University. Having graduated back in 2010, I was a little nervous about returning to school, but I studied hard and took the GRE sometime in March and got excellent marks and was thus conditionally accepted, pending some required courses, which I completed online. I began my coursework in September and have already learned so much. I find that my brain is much more suited to comprehension and application of concepts than it was when I was an undergrad. Too weird. But then, my background in English and Visual

Arts and profession in the theme park industry has certainly made me stand out from the rest of the business crowd, and it’s fun being a little unique.

I also underwent what should be my last SRS procedure: a hysterectomy in September. Neil took time off work to care for me while I recovered, which was swift; in three weeks I was back to 100%. Transitioning has been more than a six-year process at this point, but I can safely say I’ve never felt more comfortable than I am now, both physically in this body, and emotionally. Neil’s unwavering acknowledgement of and participation in my gender identity, and his love for me for who I am, is truly something I never thought I’d have in a partner.

I hope this message reaches all of you at a happy point in your lives as well. We think of you and the ways you’ve touched our lives often, even if we don’t express it.

Best Wishes, Rick and Neil

[hobbit--punk]

I made some 18th Century underpinnings and wore them under semi-normal clothes to go out because fuck it, why not?

irOkay, so this started a while back with that one Bernadette Banner video about bringing back pockets as fashion. Watched it while I was trying to figure out how to restyle/resize a skirt that I loved, but was cheaply made and falling apart six months after I got it. And I knew that I wanted pockets, but couldn’t work out how to do that. 

Then I decided a while ago to make myself some 18th Century stays, pictures of which have been online before. I’ve written a whole rant on why I want stays before, and posted several blogposts about the history of stays. Not doing that here. When I made them, I decided to use some of the scrap fabric to make a pair of 18th Century pockets, the kind that you tie on under your skirts and access through holes in the outerwear. 

Here they are, freshly finished. They (and the stays) aren’t historically accurate, exactly. They were made with some scrap linen/cotton blend I had lying around, and bound in bias tape I made out of some teal quilting cotton. Because teal looked damned good with that unbleached linen/cotton. 

And here they are, tied on over my stays and chemise. I figured out a really good rubric as to how big a pocket I make should be: if I can’t fit a paperback copy of Dune into the pocket, I need to make them bigger. These? They can fit Don Quixote. 

Here they are once they’re on. 

You can’t wear stays against your skin, and I’ve got exactly one chemise made of cotton muslin. For now. There are a few more cut out and ready to be sewn up, because you have NO IDEA how comfortable this was. 

You can also see if you followed that link that I’ve shrunk a little bit in the last few months. If this were a bra, I’d be looking at a different size. As it is, I just lace it down a bit tighter and go on with my day. If I gain a bit, which happens, I’ll lace it a bit looser and do the same. I’ve got two more sets of stays planned out as well, because this shit’s more comfortable than any bra I’ve ever worn. Also: back support. So much back support. 

Adding my underpetticoat. Look at the slits at the hips, this is because I made it 18th Century style, I think it’s called “apron front?” basically the front is a drawstring you tie behind you, and the back is a drawstring you tie in front of you. The result is a skirt that expands or contracts with your body as you change size over the years.

It’s not even a “pattern,” per se. This skirt and the yellow one that’s following is literally just a bunch of rectangles sewn together with straight seams. My ancestresses didn’t have the money to waste lots of fabric on circle skirts, nor did they have the time to fiddle with weird seams. They had shit to do, much like I do now. 

Yeah, the yellow one’s made mostly the same way as the underpetticoat. Two drawstrings, slits in the side giving me epic pocket access. The chemise peeks out under the tee shirt, but honestly, no one gave a shit, least of all me. I’ll make the next ones with shorter sleeves. Or I’ll make the sleeves longer and just go with it. Dunno yet. 

This is what I wore to go to the salon, do grocery shopping, and go out to lunch with my husband. No one noticed a damned thing, and the linen and cotton reacted as such materials do with heat and sweat to turn the stays into a snugly laced, supportive, REFRIGERATOR held over my torso in the first days of a Korean summer. 

Tagging some friends for fun! @balkanradfem​, @thinnyhopper​, @iridessence​, @hobbitinthelibrary​

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

@theasstour​ and I have been stewing in this idea for nearly a year and it’s finally come together.. we hope you enjoy x.

Word Count: 25.6k | Warning(s): explicit language, alcohol, sexual content

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

There were few moments in life that would equate to being backstage at a fashion show, simply because it was impossible to string together the specific words needed to describe the feeling. Journalists tried, quickly scribbling down thoughts and plans for their future articles in small notepads, while the professionals around them danced about in unspoken, yet somehow synchronized, movements. How would they be able to accurately depict the feeling of fabrics rubbing together between your fingers, in the most comforting way? The almost deafening sound of sewing pins carelessly being dropped on the table, after fixing a foot sized hole in a pair of trousers moments before showtime. Or how, with the amount of people crammed into the room, mixed with the humid Roman air seeping through the open windows, had sweat continuously dripped from your forehead. Yet, there was still a constant shiver running up your spine with nerves. No matter how valiant of an attempt, unless they were watching their own tailored outfits walk down the runway, their written words would never be exactly right.

Even after four years working for Gucci, perfecting hundreds of articles of clothing, clothing that was held on such a high pedestal in the fashion industry, the nerves never settled. Not when Alessandro immediately hired you at the end of your University placement, or when you were asked to accompany him in the closing walk during last year’s Cruise Show. But all of those monumental achievements paled in comparison to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you were crouched in front of your current canvas, Gucci’s newest runway model for the 2020 Cruise Fashion Show; Harry Styles.

He was making his runway debut wearing Look 51, something you’d taken notice was not too far away from his new wardrobe when you first opened his folder. The wide legged pants were crafted from fine dots patterned blue wool, a single red pin stripe running from the hip, all the way down to the ankle. They were finished with minor details, ones not many people would take notice to, but ones that made your heart race with excitement; hidden horn buttons, front slash pockets, viscose inner lining, and an interior silk belt, all of which were hidden by his coat. Green, red, and blue stripes defined the knee length coat, appearing to crease where the four pockets sat; two at his groin and two more just at the breasts, the left pocket holding Lyre ‘Pas de Rumeur’ crest patch. Barely visible under the wool coat, peaked out a blazer identically matching the pants, only the buttons and red piping could be seen, but you knew what would be hidden to onlookers; an orange lion embroidered onto the upper left breast pocket, the hand stitched word ‘Gucci’ sitting under it’s paws in black thread, and a baby blue silk inside - a fabric that no doubt felt great against Harry’s white tank top covered torso. The rest of his look consisted of minor accessories that brought the look together; a red barrie that had the signature double G’s embroidered in green thread, a pair of crocheted black fingerless gloves, and maroon quilted leather slide sandals, complete with the interlocking G horsebit. The subtle jewelry on his body was a stark contrast to his usual ring clad fingers, now only having a few delicate necklaces rest against his bare chest. He was a sight to be seen, someone who would surely grab attention as he made his way through the dark museum runway.

“Quit moving, or you’ll end up with a pin in your bum.” you mumbled, on your knees behind Harry and quickly fixing a tear in the rear left pants pocket before he was ushered out onto the runway.

The two of you were in the farthest corner of the back dressing room, away from most of the hustle and bustle of all other models, so that you could grab the emergency sewing kit, filled with all colors of thread, baby scissors, hundreds of pins, and even super glue, from your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, Alessandro could be seen weaving through the room, triple checking that each and every outfit was completed in the exact way he had envisioned. There wasn’t much time before all models were set to step foot on the Musei Capitolini floor, and the last minute nerves were finally setting in.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Never done this before, you know.” his voice was muffled by not only the chatter of the room, but also the constant picking of his lip.

“Still can’t believe you’re actually doing it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you chuckled, giving the bum pocket a couple tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come undone again, before moving to stand directly in front of him. “You cut yourself the first time we met, ripped your trousers at the first shoot, and fell off a stone wall in the new campaign. You’re not exactly the most graceful lad at times.”

“In my defense, no one told me not to get on that wall.” Harry paused a moment, holding his hand out for you to place the pin cushion while you reorganized your bag,  “Can’t believe we only met a few years ago. Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t really remember the exact date you first met Harry. All you remember is it had been February 2018 and raining - very hard at that - and when you entered the Gucci store on Bond Street in London, your umbrella had been torn to shreds because of the wind, and your hands felt like ice after having been attacked by the raging storm outside. Alessandro had been upstairs in one of the offices, three huge white boards before him with the different campaigns he was planning at the time. Humming along to Malafemmena by Roberto Murolo playing from the speakers on his desk, Alessandro traced a finger over the fabric hanging from the wall beside the boards. You knew those were the fabrics you were going to be using today, your boss having hung them forth so it would be easier for you to work.

“Morning.” You had said, taking your jacket off and placing it on the hanger. “Absolutely horrendous outside.”

“Hmm,” mused Alessandro, tilting his head to take the grey fabric in before he looked over at you making your way over. “Always like that in England.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the different colours, materials and patterns you were going to use for the new looks. “You’re not wrong.”

Alessandro giggled, looking over his shoulder for a single second.

“Either pouring rain or it’s drizzling.” You said, studying the different designs of each of the suits you would be making over the next few months. “Right annoying when you don’t even want to be here.”

He laughed again, turning around to look at the boards you assumed.

“I’m being serious.” You reached for the fabric your boss had been checking out when you arrived. “Who would choose to live in a country where it constantly rains?”

“Didn’t really have a choice most of my life,” came a voice from behind you and you instantly stopped dead in your tracks. “Can’t really control where we are born, can we?”

Slowly, you turned to see one of Alessandro’s dearest friends: Harry Styles. He was sitting in the brown leather sofa right behind you, a sofa you knew was there from having been in Alessandro’s London office multiple times before, but hadn’t thought to give a second look. You would assume Harry would have someone there with him, like some assistant or manager or… anyone, but Harry was sitting there all alone, looking over at you with this cheeky grin on his face that had your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t a shock for him to be here alone, you thought after a second, as Harry and Alessandro spent loads of time together usually so this was just another normal hang-out for them. You, on the other hand, had never met Harry Styles before. This was your first time being in his company. And so far – you had to be honest with yourself – you weren’t looking very good. Grumpy, soaked through, and with a dash of dishevelled everything, you no doubt looked like a person no one wanted anything to do with. Harry clearly found it very amusing how little you liked being in England. Also most definitely found it funny how startled you were at his sudden utterance. You watched as he got up from the sofa, walking over to you as Alessandro also came to sight again.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro said. “This is Harry.”

You zoned out entirely, the whole situation too surreal. Though you had been born and brought up in England, there was just something about the constant rain that made not only your mood drop, but your skin sticky and hands clammy. So when Harry reached a hand out to shake yours after Alessandro had told Harry your name and introduced you, red lights and a loud alarm started going off in your head. He would have to feel just how bad the effect of the bloody terrible English weather had on you. But not shaking his hand would be weird and impolite. His hand was between the two of you, open and ready for yours. It stood there for a few seconds. And you just looked at it. Quickly realising that not shaking his hand would probably be more awkward than doing so with a sweaty palm, you took his. A breathy giggle left Harry’s lips as your hands met. You let his go, looking over at Alessandro who was giving you a weird look while you heard the slap of Harry’s hand against his thigh in the background.

“Measurements.” Alessandro said, trying to move on from the awkward situation you had just caused. All the blood in your body rushed to the surface of your skin, instantly heating you up. You glanced to the ground, hoping Harry didn’t notice how flustered you just got. Walking to your bag, you took out your notebook and measurement tape. “Glorious, mio caro.”

Getting your pen, you walked over to the board for the Gucci Autumn/Winter Campaign. There were five different suits for this one, a couple of more for the next, and then three for the last one. From the way Alessandro had left some space at the bottom of the last board, it was clear he would be working even more with Harry in the future, they just did not know exactly what or when yet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and you whipped your head to your left to see Alessandro pointing to the different suits on the board.

“These today.” He said, pointing to the specific details he wanted and instructions on where they would be loose and not. “I need to go to a meeting, but you two will be fine on your own. You have a lot in common.”

You frowned, watching as Alessandro walked toward his desk, picking up a huge binder and resting it under his arm. “Have a lot in common?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

Alessandro only gestured with his hands for the two of you to get talking, and then he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Dettagli - Detalhes by Ornella Vanoni played lowly as the quiet between the two of you filled the room and made it troublesome to breathe properly. A great stream of anxiety suddenly took over and you suddenly felt very awkward. Obvious from the way Alessandro had left in such a hurry and the way he had left with that grin, you knew there was underlying expectations to this encounter. There were multiple reasons why Alessandro had called you to come help him. You didn’t want to think about that, though, because that only made absolutely everything ten times more embarrassing.

“Lovely,” Harry looked over at you from staring at the door Alessandro had kicked closed, standing confidently in his green and white striped tee shirt over his loose light denim jeans. “Likes a dramatic entrance and exit, that one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking over to the board to look at the details once more. Harry only watched you, a bit unsure of what to do next. The rain fell against the windows, creating a lulling sound to go with the Italian music still swaying through the room. The white walls, tall ceiling, and Victorian look of the room only made it feel like you two were actually in Italy. His phone vibrated from the sofa with an incoming text, only giving it a quick look over his shoulder until you wandered over to your bag again. Whipping your glasses out, you hung them from the collar of your white tee shirt before walking back over to Harry.

Quickly, and maybe a bit too loudly, you cleared your throat. “Are you ticklish?”

Taken a bit off guard, Harry blinked twice. “Only armpits and backs of my knees.”

“Right.” You nodded your head, hooking your measurement tape around your neck. “Stand still, back straight.”

Harry listened to you, biting the side of his lip as you pressed your ring and index finger to your sternum in concentration. Eyes following you as you started walking around his figure, getting a good look at everything before you stood before him again.

“Clothes too loose?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, taking your tape back in your hands again. An instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio by Jack Jezzro started playing just as the rain outside threw itself more forcefully against the windows, but you tried not to pay notice to anything but what was going on before you. You had no idea why you were nervous. Plenty of times before, you had worked with other celebrities; tailoring their suits, dresses and whatnots. For some reason, however, this felt different. Harry was so close to Alessandro, so the notion that the two of you would get along just as well filled you with anxiety, and a hint of awkwardness. Bringing your tape up you took a step closer to Harry as you lifted it above his head and around his neck. Before doing anything else, you put your glasses on, wanting to actually be able to see what the measurements were. Resting the tape on the tops of his shoulders, you put your finger between the tape and his neck to allow for some room for Harry to breathe in his suits. You felt him swallow against your finger. Her heart skipped a quick beat.

“So…” he said, dragging it out. “Where are you from?”

Instantly, your eyes whipped up in the direction of his, staring at you patiently. You glanced down at the measurements again, whispering them to yourself under your breath and doing so continuously till you wrote his numbers behind the ‘neck’ in your notebook.

“You can tell I’m from England?” you asked, knowing your parents had made it very apparent to you how much of your accent you had lost over the four years you had spent constantly traveling.

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking back to him. “Lift your arms, please.”

He did.

You sneaked the measurement tape from where it hung from his shoulders and wrapped it around the widest point of his chest. “Worcestershire, you?”

“Cheshire,” he answered. “Right outside Manchester.”

“Stand in a relaxed posture if you can,” you ordered. “You can let your arms fall to your sides.” Harry did as you told him to. “Now breathe in.” Breathed in, you noted the numbers in your head. “Breathe out.” You did the same again. Muttering them under your breath, you dragged the tape with you while writing everything down.

“And you?” Harry asked, clearly eager to get to know you better while you were this close to him. He didn’t want any awkward tension between the two of you as this almost felt like an intimate moment; you studying him so closely and touching his entire body on your first meeting. Though he was good at knowing when to be professional and when it was okay not to be - and though he knew this was work - he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t. You were a good friend of Alessandro, just as he was, and so it felt more like two acquaintances hanging out than anything work related.

“Evesham.” You answered, enclosing the tape around Harry’s waist this time. You leaned into him, nose almost touching his chest. You breathed in through your nose, and as discreetly as possible, breathed out through your mouth. Why were you acting up? What was it with Harry Styles that suddenly made it hard for you to function? This never happened. Bending your index finger, you started feeling around for Harry’s belly button to make sure you were on the right spot.

“Never really been to Worcestershire, if I’m- Oh!” Harry looked down at you as you poked his belly button a little too hard.

“Sorry, just needed to know I was directly on your waist.” You leaned down, asking him to breathe in and out again.

Harry watched you write the numbers down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“What?” you asked, putting one end of the tape at the mid side of his neck, following it all the way down to where you knew Alessandro wanted the shirt to end. Which was a little too close to his crotch. “You mean working for Gucci or tailoring people?” You felt the spot where his abdomen ended and his leg began. No, no, no, don’t go there, be professional, you thought to yourself.

“Both.”

You hunched down, getting the right measurements, writing them down, and then going to stand at his back. “Since I was twenty. Alessandro thought I had some talent, took me under his wing, and I’ve been working for Gucci since, tailoring people.” Placing your finger near his armpit, and tracing a line upward, Harry jerked.

“Absolutely not.” He glanced at you now that you were face to face, protecting his armpit while he continued on, “Want me to elbow you in the throat?”

“Preferably not.”

“Then don’t tickle my armpit.” He was so serious it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Well,” you couldn’t help your smile now. “I kind of have to know where your armpit is to do your shoulders.”

Conflict ran across Harry’s face, as if he was debating everything that could go wrong if he let you do it. Slowly, he turned back around, shoulders incredibly tense this time.

“Try to relax.”

“I know I’m about to have a finger jammed up my armpit, I’m unable to.”

The urge to laugh was so immense, but you bit your lips together and quickly ran your finger from his armpit and directly up his shoulder. Harry only winced a little, sighing under his breath as you took the measurements and then went to write them down.

“Sorry,” Harry said as you turned back around to him. “Didn’t mean to turn into a dickhead, but I just hate when people touch my armpits.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m the same with my neck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Nope. I’ll do that myself unless I need someone to do my back.”

“Let me know next time you need help and I’ll do your back.” Harry said. “Maybe wiggle my fingers along your neck or summat to that effect.”

You laughed. “You have free time on your hands now? Aren’t you a busy bloke?”

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

“World tour is over; I get to relax.” He informed, watching as you did his arm. “Going to Italy to relax with some mates and family.”

“How nice.” You said, doing his wrist. “I’m going to Italy as well. Always spend March ‘till August in Florence, then September ‘till February in London.”

“Really?” Harry almost looked a little impressed by your lifestyle, as if his own wasn’t just as adventurous. “Travel a lot?”

You couldn’t help a tiny smile, knowing that no matter how many countries you’d travelled to, Harry had probably done double the amount. But regardless of how well-travelled he himself was, in the low yet curious tone of his voice, you could hear the sincerity of his question. “Mostly between Italy and England, but I do tag along on some of Alessandro’s visits to the States, France, and some other countries.”

“Wicked.” Harry smiled as he noticed the corners of your mouth tip a little upward. “What’s been your favourite so far?”

The eye contact was intense. He didn’t look away, focusing entirely and altogether on you. There was a friendliness to his glance that had you relaxing, which was odd considering how anxious you had been earlier. You were sure that, by this point, Harry had completely forgotten the entire reason why he was here or why it was raining outside. And, to be fair, so had you. This felt like catching up with a friend, the easy chatter you had with one of your mates after months apart.

“I feel like I’m somewhat biased, but Italy. I love my little flat in Florence and that city too much for my own good.” You said, finding the way Harry’s head moved slightly with his huff, endearing. “You expected that?”

“What's not to love about Italy?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I’m going there this summer, remember? Taking my whole family and meeting some mates.”

“Where abouts are you going?”

“Modena.” He put his hands in his jean pockets, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not really anywhere close to a big city or anything, but I just want to rest once I’m there to be fair. I’m teaching myself Italian at the moment, Alessandro is teaching me some as well.”

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

“Would you understand if I spoke some to you?” The four years you had lived in Italy had made you fluent in their first language. It had been a challenge at first, but you now understood the frustrated Florentine drivers shouting out from their open driver side windows, the old couple owning the bakery near you who loved to mumble, and even the slang some of the interns at Gucci used when they talked to one another. Harry seemed to be able to tell that you mastered this language he had just barely started to learn, but he nodded nevertheless.

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, getting the measurement tape from the table behind you, completely having forgotten about the fact that you were here for work.

“Is that Italian for ‘oh no’?” Harry teased, making you both laugh, but you quickly shut up as you saw what was next on the list. Hip and seat. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Harry, biting your lip as you hunched down before him. You could tell that he too was a bit taken aback by the completely new position you two found yourself in. He quickly looked away.

“Is it okay if you…” your eyes met. “If you lift your shirt slightly and lower your jeans a tad? I need to measure directly onto your body.”

“Alright,” Harry took a grip of his jeans, shimmying them along with his boxers a bit down his hip. “Yeah.” Taking his shirt up next, the bare skin of his abdomen was there right in front of you.

“Modena,” you started, leaning in as you brought the measurement tape around him. Harry felt your breath brush against his abdominal hair. “Non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

“What?” he said, eyes glued to the wall right in front of him, hands gripping his shirt hard in concentration. “Didn’t catch that.”

You memorised his number, then said a quick, “You can pull your jeans up and shirt down now.”

Harry did so, watching you stroll back to note his hip. He noticed he was panting slightly, like he had run up a set of stairs. Closing his mouth, he shook his head and willed himself to act normal, to be respectful. It was a little hard, however, when he had been single for so long and a pretty lass stood right in front of his crotch. As you came back and stood in front of him the exact same way as the time before, Harry settled his eyes on the white boards again. This time around, you brought the book with you, wanting the crotch and leg area to be done with as quickly as possible.

“Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.” You said again, measuring around the widest point of his seat.

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

You giggled, writing down the measurements before inhaling hugely. Inseam next. “Did you catch what I was saying?”

“No, I-“ He stopped himself as your hand came up to the inside of his upper thigh, not having seen it coming. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.” You said quickly, doing his inseam, knuckles softly gracing that spot between his thighs.

“I, uhh, I didn’t understand what you were saying.” He admitted quickly, hands on his hips and gaze faraway.

You wrote down the inseam, and got up, taking the book with you. His eyes instantly fell on you as you stood face to face again; him biting his lips together and your eyes big. Turning around, you placed the book down on the table again, running your finger over all the measurements so far.

“Could you come here, please?” You asked, hearing Harry walk towards you, hands on his back and ready for the next steps. You had been a bit scared to command him earlier, but now that you had talked and been between his legs, you felt it almost got a little easier to be around him. As if the awkwardness had gone away. Now you didn’t have to go far to write his measurements because the table and book and pen were right beside you. You walked over to the white board, mentally jotting down how and where Alessandro wanted the shirt to end and how it was supposed to sit on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry craned his neck to watch you. Still wearing your glasses, he watched your lips move as you mumbled to yourself, the dark blue of the rainstorm from the window beside you, made what Harry looked like seem like a painting. The calmness of you against the raging madness outside. He glanced back at the book, then at the soft fabric hanging beside him, mind wandering to the different places these campaigns would take him. He read over his measurements, about to turn the pages to see some of his other lengths and widths, when he felt a sharp pain in his finger.

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Harry was fast to answer, putting his index finger in his mouth to get some of the blood off his finger.

Walking back over to him, you didn’t pay much attention to how he was quick to put his hand behind his back again where it had been earlier. “Modena isn’t too far from Florence.”

Harry’s brows met above his nose, feeling a little lost at first, but as he slowly started putting two and two together, his grimace evaporated. “Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

You nodded your head twice, giving him a little smile. “Esattamente.”

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

You raised your hand, offering Harry a high five which he happily answered. What he forgot in that second however, was his minor accident just a minute earlier. Right before your hands met, you noticed his finger, and your eyes went immediately to his.

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

“Oh-” Harry looked at it, looking unsure for a second before he huffed. “Oh that,” he huffed. “That’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re a tailor.”

“What…” You shook your head. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Thought we were stating the obvious.” He shrugged. “Just a papercut. I’ll survive.”

“Of course you’ll survive, just wondered how you were able to start bleeding out of nowhere.”

Harry chuckled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to use my hand as normal in no time.”

“Knob.” You mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it. That was not at all professional. And you were in a very professional setting. You were at work. You couldn’t call your client a knob right to his face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, you thought to yourself trying to row yourself back to safe territory. You scrunched your nose up as you inhaled sharply. “Can’t even remember the last time I got a papercut, to be frank.”

“Speaking frankly now, are you?” He joked. You looked up at him again, and a second after your eyes met, you both started laughing. You put your hand to your heart, shaking your head at how silly the two of you were when you were under strict orders from Alessandro to get Harry’s measurements. But the fact that he hadn’t taken you calling him a knob seriously, the fact that he was able to joke about it and take the piss, it made it impossible for you not to laugh with him.

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

“What’s knob in Italian, anyway?” Harry asked, making you laugh even harder.

And that launched the two of you into easy conversation. Almost a little too easy for the two of you to just have met. The fact that you were in a work environment didn’t seem to face you at all, which was incredibly refreshing for both. The seriousness of the meetings you had to endure most of the time so unnecessarily boring and dry that this was like a breath of fresh air. Alessandro had been right when he said you had loads in common, which you figured out in between you taking his measurements. There didn’t seem to be a topic untouched at the end of Harry’s session, and though he was done with his measurements and such, he stuck around. You two stood by the table you stood at earlier, you still holding onto the tape like once you stopped, Harry would immediately leave. Neither of you noticed how the door opened slightly. Didn’t notice Alessandro looking through the crack and at the two of you, having heard voices from behind the door when he came back from his meeting. He smiled to himself, seeing Harry laugh at something you said before he closed the door again, leaving you two to it.

You became fast friends. Though you could go a week without texting, or a day without thinking about one another, you still knew that when you next met up, you would pick up where you left off. You had formed an easy friendship like that, one which you both appreciated and knew you could come back to without problem. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would befriend someone as high profile as Harry Styles when working as a tailor. You hadn’t really thought you would befriend any celebrity when working as a tailor, actually. But here you were, friends with Harry Styles, and not at all thinking of him as someone who made hit singles or who was the new face of Gucci. Someone who made a living off of singing and who had a huge bloody fanbase supporting him. That part of his life felt surreal, but yours and Harry’s friendship was so genuine, so effortless, that you didn’t really care about the other aspects of his life as long as he was a good person.

The second time you met was at the chip shop, The Camp, in St Albans, Hertfordshire, where the photoshoot and commercial would take place. It was cloudy, the skies a dull grey that threatened with rain, but you knew would just fly right by without interrupting the film crew. The wind was annoying however, bitter at the touch, but you knew Harry was a warm blooded person and would have no problems exposing his chest and hands to it. You strolled up to the Camp School parking lot that was littered with cars and a huge white truck where you knew Harry would be, getting ready. Alessandro had other business to attend to and most of the people on set worked for Gucci, but you were there to see that the suits you had made were okay and that they properly fit. For the first fitting some weeks ago, you had been busy with another client, so Alessandro had done that himself. But he still wanted someone on sight in case something happened, because no way in hell were anyone but him or you allowed to repair a pair of torn trousers or a ruined shirt.

You knocked on the door of the truck, heard a “Come in”, and stepped inside. Harry was sitting in a makeup chair, a woman doing his hair and make-up, readying him for his first ever Gucci shoot. He opened his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror before him. Your smiles were identical when you realised who you were looking at.

“Knob.” You said, standing by the wall behind Harry.

“Wanker.” He answered, grinning at you. “You alright?”

It was something the two of you had fallen into the habit of calling one another ever since the ‘knob’ incident of your first meeting. No one really understood why, especially not the people around you. Alessandro, who thought he had been the mastermind behind a match made in heaven, was surprised to see just how good friends the two of you were. Seeing you two hit it off in his office at first, he had immediately thought he had done it, found each his friends a potential partner, but after months of nothing romantic happening, he had given up. It was clear the two of you just looked at each other as friends and nothing more. Very good friends at that.

“Yeah,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing out beyond the door you had just walked through. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Harry chuckled. “Worried about that, are you?” He thanked the make-up artist before he got up, gesturing for you to walk out first.

“Yes.” You answered, stepping out of the van. “You’ll look like a maniac if you get wet in that.”

“A maniac?!” Harry sounded appalled. “You might have to elaborate on why.”

“Wet hair, wearing a suit with no shirt, striking orange necklace, and holding a chicken?”

“No, that’s art, babe.”

You laughed. The two of you started strolling towards the chip shop.

“If anything, I’ll look irresistible wearing this and being soaked.” Harry said, saying a quick ‘hi’ to someone walking by. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

You huffed. “If I saw someone walking down the street looking like that, being soaked through, I’d have my pepper spray ready and already dialling 999.”

“Admit it, you’d not be able to keep your hands off me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me thinking you’re fit?” You laughed. A short silence followed. Your knuckles brushed against one another. Something warm lit up your chest for a single second. Harry just looked at you for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the question. But before you got the chance to look to your left and at your mate, to make sure he was fine, someone interrupted.

“Harry,” one of Glen Luchford’s assistants walked toward the two of you. “We’re ready for you.”

The photographer stood beside the art director – Christopher Simmonds - further down the street, just outside the chip shop, talking amongst themselves about something. A slight breeze blew past you, Harry’s cologne graced you for two lovely seconds as you watched the man himself follow the main photographer’s assistant. You were a couple of steps behind them, standing by yourself and watching the whole commercial unfold. Harry was handed the chicken, who flapped its wings upon being in Harry’s grasp. The look on Harry’s face had you laughing, and Harry immediately looked over at you, giving you a stern look. However, you were laughing, so it was hard for him not to crack a smile as well. Your phone vibrated in your pocket some minutes later, and you walked a distance away as not to be in the way.

“Lallo, hiya.” You greeted, scrunching your nose up as you felt the first droplet of rain hit it.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro greeted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “How’s the photoshoot?”

“Not really done much yet, but everything’s fine so far.”

He sighed again. “I am glad to hear. Did the suit fit nice like it’s supposed to?”

You glanced at Harry over your shoulder, standing on the pavement further down, ready to film. He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the white sky with big eyes. It was almost as if you could see the peaceful green of his irises. His neck was stretched as he bowed his head back, closing his eyes and letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He looked almost dreamy; peaceful for a few moments as he collected himself. Someone shouted something and Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the director. Suddenly, his eyes went to you, but they flickered away just as quickly. You looked away.

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

You kicked at a stone on the ground. “What does that mean?”

“Harry ruining the suit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “Do you have that little faith in him?”

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Alessandro asked, you could tell he was narrowing his eyes and putting his hand on his hip. He was challenging you. “Really sure?”

“Look,” you started walking towards the make-up van, aware that you most likely had to go get the make-up artist and hairdresser out if it was going to start raining. “Everything’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. If you were worried this was going to be a fail, why didn’t you prioritise this event?”

“Fine, fine. It’s not you I’m worried about, no? It’s that…” Alessandro paused for some seconds. “It’s Harry’s first Gucci shoot and I’m not there. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then I’m there to fix it. Why I’m here, remember?” You spotted the van. “I’m your eyes, ears, and hands today.”

Alessandro laughed. “Il mio amore, what would I do without you?”

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

He laughed again and you two hung up just as you knocked on the door to the make-up van. Informing them that it was drizzling out and that they might have to come do a touch-up if it got worse, you walked in as they got everything they needed. A selection of suits hung on a rack on one end of the van, some twins in case something were to happen, and others were lone ones. Regardless, you always found Alessandro’s ability to make clothes into a form of art so inspiring. It was what made you want to work with him in the first place. An abundance of colours and fabrics, of softness and roughness, of modern and rustic. The things he thought to make you’d never in your wildest dreams think of, which made doing anything for him so fascinating. Always something new, always something spellbinding.

You followed the crew out and in the direction of the shoot. It wasn’t drizzling as much anymore, but this was still England, something that meant it would happen anytime soon. The artists were chatting amongst themselves as you made your way over, you read over an email on your phone. Suddenly though, the heels that had walked right beside you stopped. You glanced up from your phone, over your shoulder at the three ladies you had gotten to help you. They stared straight ahead, and when you averted your eyes, letting them land on what they were seeing, you almost dropped your phone.

The hen Harry had been holding was flapping about, two crew members chasing it while a third one ran over to help. Someone was shouting “Stop recording” and someone else “Get the fucking chicken”. But the worst part of it all – at least for you – was Harry getting up from the asphalt. There was a furrow to his brows as he checked his suits for scratches, stopping when he saw the rip at his knee. Your brain immediately flashed back to what Alessandro had just told you.

Harry’s eyes shot up, hastily scanning the crowd around him, and you quickly realised he was looking for you. Stepping forward, you saw him relax some when his eyes landed on you. He jogged over, groaning through his teeth.

“I-“

“-Get to the bloody van, I need to take a look at the rest of your suit.”

“But there’s only the knee.” Harry said as you two started walking.

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

This seemed to become a theme for Harry’s shoots. His anxiety would get the better of him, though he did get more confident with each one that went by. It wasn’t something he was amazing at at first, but something that grew on him overtime. Just like the seasons changed from winter to spring to summer, Harry slowly got his feet off the slippery ice he seemed to have been on that first shoot in England.

However, a few months later, you were back in Italy, doing another shoot with Gucci. Harry was wearing one of the suits you had tailored for him; a checked one, a blue shirt, a silk bandana around his neck and another one in his hair. Since the last shoot, the two of you had talked over the phone, texted, and sent each other funny memes on Instagram. You hadn’t met up a whole lot, maybe the odd café trip or two with some friends, but nothing beyond that. So, meeting him in Italy, your second home, was incredibly special to you.

You were on the outside of Rome, Villa Lente, and you had spent most of your morning yawning and getting looks from Alessandro when you did so. Harry yawned with you when he caught you doing so, the two of you giggling at how ridiculous you were being. With raised eyebrows, Alessandro watched the two of you, giving you a slight flick to the arm when you distracted Harry.

But it was when Harry was perched on the stone wall, dragging some hair out of his face as he placed himself steadily on it, that was then it happened. The sun hit him just right, making the ruffle of his curls look like a golden halo around his head; green irises switching to the colour of autumn leaves where the light hit them. He looked ethereal. And in the middle of all of this, Harry reached for the lamb he was supposed to be perching on his shoulders. No one thought Harry would actually fall off the wall. No one thought he was that clumsy. But as he was hurtling towards the ground having lost his footing completely, the realisation that he was indeed that clumsy hit you just as Harry hit the stone staircase beneath the wall.

Alessandro exclaimed a few crude words in Italian, running to Harry’s aid. You stood there blinking, getting yourself back from the slight daydream you’d just had about the poor man that laid on the ground with a dozen people around him. One second he had looked like something straight out of a dream; like an angel that had come down to earth. He had looked too good and you simply had not been able to look away from him. You knew Harry was good looking, you weren’t blind, but something about the sun hitting him like that, when he smiled down at you watching him, how carefully he styled his hair when he at up on that stone wall. It did something to you.

But all of that disappeared right away when Harry hit the ground, exclaiming a grunt of pain. Alessandro was by his side in seconds, speaking so fast you had trouble understanding him. Harry held onto his knee, yet again having ripped the suit and once again bleeding, only this time it was his hand. Why was it always his knee and why did he always end up bleeding? It was only so clumsy a person could get, wasn’t it? And yet, Harry Styles seemed to be proving you very wrong. No one was as easily affected by their anxiety as him.

People crowded him, ready to be of help and to get him standing. It wasn’t like he had broken any bones, because he was able to get up onto his feet without trouble, but the fall had definitely hurt regardless. Your eyes locked as Harry’s arm came to rest around Alessandro’s shoulders, the designer helped him over to the van. Once again, Harry had to change trousers.

“How?” you simply asked, unsure what best way to even address the whole situation.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, not in the mood to have you take the mick out of him for this. “Hurts like a fucking cunt.”

Alessandro pinched Harry’s side, making him yelp and put more pressure on his knee than he wanted to, ultimately getting him to gasp. Harry glanced at the designer, an annoyed furrow forming between his brows.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

“Pinching a wounded man is rude.” Harry removed his arm from around Alessandro, limping towards the van. “I’m getting changed.”

You glanced at Alessandro, both of you knowing that no matter what, Harry would be in a bad mood for a bit now. That always happened when something didn’t go according to plan; he’d get grumpy and need some time alone. One of the assistants was about to follow him, clearly having gotten some orders from the photographer, Glen Luchford, or art director, Christopher Simmonds. You put your hand out warning them from following the already irritated and hurting star of the photoshoot. He just needed 10 minutes to cool off, and then you’d be off after him to make sure he was alright.

Once 10 minutes had passed, you knocked on the door of the make-up van, hearing a grumble of sorts before stepping inside. Harry was standing unzipping his trousers and shimmying them down his hip. It reminded you a bit of the tailoring you had done at the beginning of the year, how he had pushed both his trousers and boxers down so you could get his measurements right. He glanced over his shoulder at you before he sat down, now only his boxers covering the top part of his thighs and crotch.

“Don’t stand there looking for too long,” he said, bending over to get the trousers completely off. “I might end up turning you on.”

You stepped inside, closing the door and walking over to the first-aid kit. You felt Harry’s eyes on you as he sat back, placing the ripped trousers on the chair beside him. Getting some cotton, you put a mild soap on it and poured it under water before walking back over to Harry. You sat down in a chair, getting closer to him, and taking his hand. As you turned it over to look at the scratch on his palm, you could tell that it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be, but it still looked like it’d hurt. Carefully, you dabbed the wound, making sure to clean it up. Harry hissed through his teeth, watching as the cotton came out dirty. It hadn’t been the cleanest ground he’d landed on and you didn’t want him to get an infection.

Getting up, you got another piece of cotton and did the same, dragging the chair even closer to Harry now. Taking his hand this time around, your knuckles brushed his thigh, the dark downy hair you hadn’t noticed till now. How his boxers rested tightly around his thighs, and how far up they were, revealing more than you were intended to see. Your cheeks felt hot and you focused on his hand, lifting it from his leg so you didn’t have to feel his warm, bare thigh against your knuckles. There wasn’t really a trace of any dirt on it now, but you wanted to be sure you’d gotten everything before you let him outside again.

You were very aware Harry could rinse his own wound himself. He didn’t need people to do everything for him, he liked doing most things himself, in fact. And though both of you were sat there knowing you didn’t have to, neither stopped it. Slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest at your face. They stayed there, just watching you tend to him so carefully. When people go out of their way to help you, to make sure you’re okay, those are the kind of people to hold onto for life. The kind of people who will buy you sweets when you need it on a bad day, who will force themselves to be in a cheery mood to better yours, who will kiss your eyelids when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. The kind of people who will rinse your wound when you get hurt when you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

You didn’t know why you looked up, didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was your subconscious that knew if you did, you’d find something you’d been searching for your whole life. Maybe something inside you knew that glancing up, you’d see something you hadn’t before. Your eyes met Harry’s, and though you had stared into them on numerous occasions before, something shifted in that moment. With his hand in your hand, his bare knee resting against yours, eyes glancing intently into yours; it was like something bigger than yourselves took over. You felt it on your heart first, like a warm tingling that spread out to every single one of your limbs and cells. It felt like you were drunk; head hazy and feelings heightened. Everything about Harry before you was greater, brighter; more.

“You need to finish the shoot.” You said, knowing that Alessandro would undoubtedly not appreciate the two of you taking this long.

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared at you, like he was seeing something spectacular for the first time and he couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes softened as he gulped, his Adam’s apple moving with a lump in his throat he clearly had trouble swallowing. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes rest to your lips. Following the shape of them, savouring the colour of them. Neither of you realised you were moving in. It wasn’t till the sight of Harry started to blur and the room seem to fill with electricity that you realised just how close you were. You stopped, pulling a bit away till you saw him clearly, but a slight wrinkle to his brows told you he hadn’t appreciated that. Just as you were about to lean in again, to an unknown fate between the two of you, there was a loud knock on the door and a second later it flew open. You pushed away from him, barely even touching his hand as you finished rinsing the wound. Harry blinked, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at Alessandro who stood there glancing back at him.

“Well?” Alessandro asked, gesturing behind him at the shoot that had been momentarily stopped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes meeting yours before he dragged his hand out of your grip. “Just a sec.”

Harry got up, walking over to the wardrobe to get changed. Instantly, you threw the cotton away and walked outside with Alessandro, ready to forget the whole moment and never think of it again. But it was easier said than done. The rest of that shoot, that day, that week, it was all you could think about.

Unfortunately, after that shoot, you and Harry hadn’t been able to see one another  It was finally that time of year when you had a bit of time off to relax, and this time it happened to fall in the middle of July. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do nothing more than wander the streets of your home, see some old friends, and fully enjoy the beauties that an Italian summer had to offer. But no matter how happy you were for the time off, it was bittersweet because although Harry had just finished his world tour and now had an abundance of free time on his hands, he was fully booked until you’d see him for your next shoot.

You didn’t fault him for how he spent his time off, he did just get home after a long year long world tour, and that did warrant some time alone. But you did have to admit that you missed seeing him. Somewhere in your mind, you recall him saying he was spending some time in Italy up north with his family, but the dates were jumbled and you didn’t want to disturb his peace. Instead, you settled for knowing you’d see him again in a few short months.

You had set out for the day in order to find some new houseplants, seeing as the young girl who kept yours tended to while you were away - Lilliana - always seemed to let them wilt. It was the most perfect day to stroll down to the market and see some of the florists you’d missed while you were away, what with the sun shining it’s brightest and only the tiniest breeze ghosting by your cheeks. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. This was your time to bask in the sunlight before heading back to dreary London for some time.

Sandals clapping against the cobblestone walkway echoed through the quiet street, the sound of faint music playing from a nearby open window was carried by the breeze, filling in any silence that would be there otherwise. This was the life you had dreamt about as a child, the kind of life that you only got to read about in books or watch in films, yet here you were. It was yet another reason you had to be thankful to Alessandro for.

“Mi scusi, signora.”

You often walked down the small side street with your eyes closed briefly, not only knowing it like the back of your hands, but also basking in the warmth of the sun, so it wasn’t anything new to have someone speak up to let you know they were near. But something about that voice was familiar. Like when you walk into your home for the first time in a while and you can smell you. Like you can’t exactly put a finger on it, but you know it’s familiar, so you investigate. Which you did, and it caused you to gasp.

“Harry?”

“In the flesh.” his smile could rival the brightness of the sun that was shining between in the tall buildings as he walked up the slight incline of the street towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and through I’d stop by. See my favorite tailor.” Once he finally reached you, your arms were instantly wrapped around one another, squeezing like you hadn’t just been together weeks ago.

“Wha - how are yo-?”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless. You? Of all people?” he laughed, pulling away after giving a few rubs to your back.

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Montaione to take the piss, Harry.” you took this time to really look at him after your surprise meet up. He looked remarkable, something that quite annoyed you considering he was dressed so casually. Then again, the man could pull off close to anything. He was wearing a pair of grey trousers; a single pleat running from his waist to ankles down the middle of the leg, a plain white t shirt that perfectly accentuated his dark tattoos, and a royal blue bandana that hung loosely from around his neck. The pair of sunglasses he had worn when walking up to you were now being hung from the bandana so that he could get a better look at you, and if you had to look at his sparkling green eyes for any second longer, you were sure you would combust.

“Despite how easy it is to get under your skin, I, surprisingly, didn’t come here to do anything other than see you for a few hours.”

“A few hours? You traveled down from Modena just to hangout for a few hours?”

“Knew I was in Modena then? Keeping tabs on me while we’re apart, are you?”

Your hand jut out and shoved him hard enough to make him lose a bit of balance while you two started walking down the street, just enough so that he had to take a few steps to the side to stabilize himself.

“Thought you weren’t here to take the piss, knob.”

He laughed, nodding his head and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “Alright alright. Truce. But to answer your question, yes I did. That a bad thing?”

“Uh, no it’s not. Just a bit surprising is all. That’s a bit of a journey just for lunch.”

“And I’d make it countless more times for you.”

Over the last two years, you grew to know Harry and when he was being serious or having a laugh, so you could instantly hear the sincerity behind his words. Despite the goofy grin playing at his lips, you knew that he was being truthful, and the thought made butterflies awaken in your belly.

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” the nod you gave was more towards yourself, but when you glanced up at Harry, you saw that he was already watching you, smiling as he took in your relaxed aura.

“You too, doll.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?” just as you did each time you met up, the two of you fell into easy conversation as you made your way towards the village square. Harry was one of those people that you could go months without talking to, yet somehow, the second you met back up again, you were able to pick up right where you left off.

“Alessandro may or may not have given it to me.” his voice was timid, like he didn’t fully want to admit he had asked your boss where you lived.

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

“Mhm. Says you’re his shining star. ‘M sure the man would create a whole collection surrounding you if you give him enough time.”

“Says the woman who he looks at like his next of kin.”

“Don’t make this into a pissing contest, Harry. You know he adores you.”

“Just him?”

It felt like spending time with a lifelong mate when with Harry, but when he said shit like that, when he made your tummy flutter with his mix of words and longing gazes, it made it hard for you to see him as just a friend.

“Didn’t you say that you only had a bit before having to get back?” you changed the subject quickly, not wanting to answer his question.

“Not get back, ‘m not headed back to Modena.” he shook his head when you sent him a soft, questioning ‘no?’ “Nope. Flying down to Sicily for a few days for Google Camp.”

“Google Camp?” your eyebrows shot up in question when he told you, “A sumit for the rich and famous to talk about climate change while flying in on private jets and yachts. How very unlike you mister Styles.”

“Oi, lay off. Got invited, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to turn it down. Besides,” he shrugged, “‘M flying commercial and carpooling. Being as eco friendly as possible.”

“Course, of course.”

“I have four hours until my flight, so just shut up and come get lunch with me.”

The room had gone totally dim during your trip down memory lane, indicating that it was time for everyone to begin getting in their places so that the show could begin. But even in the low lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the look of fear and doubt flash through Harry’s eyes. The look was something that appeared before every shoot or campaign you had been present for, only lasting seconds, yet always intriguing to you. The man before you was a superstar, someone who pranced around on stage in front of tens of thousands of people every night, without a care in the world. Yet, as soon as your exquisitely tailored clothes touched his body, his shoulders would tense, and he looked like a scared child. You’d never understood why.

“You’re nervous.” It came out as more of a breathy statement than a question.

“‘M terrified.”

You heard those words regularly from your models, especially the new ones, but hearing it fall from between his lips made your stomach tighten. Harry was such a natural at all of this; the superstardom. It was easy to tell that he felt right at home while on stage, how perfectly natural his body reacted whenever the camera was on for a red carpet, how easy going he was when it came to hair and makeup and outlandish outfits. All of it came so easy to him and it blew you away every time you got to witness it. And while he was so good at adjusting quickly to new environments, his team and fans constantly cheering him on with every new endeavor, he was still just a normal twenty five year old guy. He still FaceTimed his mum to get her opinion on new looks, still went out and enjoyed his free time with mates, and still got anxious when trying something new. He never seemed to want to disappoint you or Alessandro when he was wearing the clothes you’d made for him specifically. That was what got to him, you thought, the prospect of ruining spectacular clothes you’d made from scratch. The moments in time you’d just thought back on was indicator enough.

“It’s gonna be great. We saw you during the runthrough yesterday.” you smiled, reminding him how well he had done during the practice show.

“But that’s different. This time it means somethin-” he was cut off by Alessandro yelling it was time for all models to officially line up for showtime. “What if I go too fast and I step on Mae’s shoe, fuck up her walk? Or too slow and clog up the entire runway? Or the hat fal-”

“Hey!” To stop his incessant worrying, your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him stop for a second and look directly at you. He blinked once. “Stop it. You’re going to do amazing. Alessandro wouldn’t have put you in this show if he didn’t have complete confidence in you. And you should know by now I wouldn’t have wasted my oh so precious time making any of this fit you perfectly if I didn’t believe in you.”

Harry’s breathing began calming down, going from almost hysterical to a gentle, rhythmic, intake, indicating that he was coming out of his panic bubble. His eyes never left your own, quite different from all the times they had openly roamed your figure.

“You can do this.” You whispered, nodding slightly and sending him a loving smile as your hands dropped back down to your sides,

Alessandro’s voice yelled over everyone, demanding everyone be in their place immediately, but Harry made no move to leave your side. He continued staring at you, taking a few deep breaths every few seconds and nodding to himself, seeming to give himself a pep talk in his head. The lights went out in the museum, leaving the audience in complete darkness, and you knew the intense sound of an alarm would soon be echoing through the building to start the show.

But none of that held your attention.

In what could have only been a second, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was so quick that you didn’t have time to register what had happened before he was turning to run and join the other models, but it left you stunned. Like being in the warmth of your home during a snowy day and suddenly opening the door, letting the freezing wind hit you in the face.

And as much as the kiss had taken you off guard, it felt so very right that small second it happened. He hadn’t even given it a second thought, leaning in to kiss you like the two of you had been an item for years and it was part of your normal everyday routine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the thought alone made your fingertips ache to be on his skin again. Shaking yourself out the haze that had formed around you mind, your focus and priorities flipped like a switch as soon as the siren began playing, looking around the room to make sure everyone and everything was where it needed to be.  

Just as the precession of models began exiting the dressing room, and The Shadows Die Twice by Br1002 ranging throughout the museum, you made your way up to stand beside Alessandro. There was never a time you saw him truly stressed; not when you first started working with him and you accidentally ruined an entire bundle of fabric, not when he was in charge of creating dozens of different looks for the Met Gala, and not even now, watching as his newest collection strutted down the runway, making its worldwide debut. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.

“There she goes.” You admired, resting your head on your boss’ shoulder and watching all 217 of the looks he created and you helped bring to life, be released into the world.

The sense of pride that rushed through your veins each and every time you got to see the pieces you put your heart and soul into, was similar to what you could only imagine it was like for a parent to watch their child flourish. You could remember all the moments during the months leading up to the show that you wanted to quit, when you would get so frustrated with Alessandro and his brilliantly creative mind every time he brought you a new look idea, how badly you wanted to scream after pricking your fingers so much they started to bruise. You remembered all of those times when holding such an important job at Gucci felt like something you just weren’t ready for at the age of twenty four. But every hardship was worth it the moment your work came to a culmination. This moment of absolute pride and excitement.

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you’d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

“You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?’ to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[thelittleboyfromloveactually]

Two Shorten the Road

Part 2

Joel dawson x reader

Warnings: none I think

Word count: 1951

Promt: you and joel are of to a great start on your journey, that is until your get attacked by one of the mutated monsters

I’ve always hated goodbyes, especially when they might be forever. Joel and I had packed quickly and said our goodbyes.

“So joel, you gotta use your advantages, so like your small and fast, so ya know, don’t fight! Just run, run and hide” Tim told Joel

“Take care of him Y/N”

“Stay alive you two!”

“For real! Do not die!”

I met joel right under the bunker’s exit hatch. He looked at me, fear and excitement in his eyes

“You ready?” He asked as he adjusted his backpack

“As ready as I’ll ever be” I said looking up at the ladder

“You know you don’t have to-“ he stared before i cut him off, what was ur gonna take for him to understand that I was coming and that was that.

“I want to, really, I do” I said smiling at him

“Alright then” he said. He looked up and began climbing up the ladder, I followed after him.

We pushed the hatch open, and Joel helped me out. The sun was hot against my skin. I looked at joel. He was looking is all directions, amazed by the sight of the trees and grass. I smiled at him, remembering how long it had been since he’d been outside. We made eye contact, he took a deap breath. Joel jumped down and I followed.

“Ok so, we need to go west” he said looking at his map

“Right…West” I said looking around, I had no idea which way was west, i normally just followed everyone when i went out hunting.

“This is not….very helpful” he said looking at the map

Joel began walking one way, still looking down at his map. He turned noticing I wasn’t following him. Then he began walking the other way

“We’re gonna die” I said

“Hey just because I’m not entirely sure which way is west does not mean we are screwed” he said defensively

“Actually Kato that’s exactly what it means” I said, grabbing the map from his hands

He looked around, thinking for a second as I studied his map. Suddenly he began walking again, i quickly ran up behind him

“Let’s go this way, ya west is this way” he said, nodding confidently “split the difference, done! First decision made”

And we were off

It’s so weird being outside with Joel. I’m hardly used to being outside in general, and joel. Man I cannot even believe why joel is thinking right now, I mean he hasn’t been outside in 7 years. We have been walking for about one hour. We were walking through what seemed like a deserted neighborhood. There were a lot of cars and busses. Covered in vines, rusting away. Preoccupied with what was around me and not what was below me, I tripped, falling on my face.

“Oh shit! Y/N are you ok?” Joel ran over helping you up

“Yup, ya I’m good” I said dusting myself off. I looked up at joel, his eyes had worry behind them. I smiled telling him I was ok. His hands slowly let go of me. I looked down at what I had tripped over. A hot pink frisbee, how convenient.

“Ya I know, I know, your like an strong bad ass” he said jokingly

You laughed and pushed his arm as you began to start walking again

“Y-ya know I never thanked you and stuff, for ya know? Coming with me, I’m actually really glad you came, I don’t think I could do this without my best friend” he said, looking at his feet

“You don’t need to thank me joel, I don’t think I would have been able to stay one day in that colony without you” I smiled

“Also I really do need to thank you because I’m pretty sure I would have been killed already, to death” he said nodding his head

“Killed to death? Really? Wow sounds gruesome” u said laughing

“Wow” he said and we broke out laughing.

Suddenly a sort of rumbling sound came from somewhere, I couldn’t tell which direction. I looked at joel, panic now rest in his eyes.

“Run and hide” he said repeating what he had been told before leaving the bunker “hide….hide in the house! Y/N this way!” He said running toward the house, i threw my bow over my back, adjusting it and then running after him.

The house was quite, the wood creaked under my feet. I took off my bow and grabbed the arrow. Now I was ready to fight whatever bastard was gonna attack us. The sound got louder causing both me and Joel to run outside through the back door. We stumbled out of the house. I looked over at him and he shrugged. Suddenly another sound came from behind us. Bubbles. Me and Joel slowly turned around to see a little pond that had bubbles emerging on its surface. I grabbed an arrow, threading it through my bow as I began walking toward the pond.

“No Y/N!” joel demanded in a whisper

I stumbled back as a creature emerged, it was huge. I slowly backed away. Shit. I could hear Joel trying to tell me to run. He began counting

“Run on three Y/N! One, two, three!” we both broke off in a run toward the gate. I Pulled back my arrow and prepared to shoot but I was too late. Before I knew it I was being thrown into the fence and then dragged toward the toad-like creature. I grabbed desperately onto a log but it just came along with me.

“JOEL! shit! Help me! Grab my bow!” I yelled trying everything I could to slow this thing down. I could feel it’s tongue in my shoe. Joel was frozen in place. Shit. Then barks, something I hadn't heard for 7 years. A small brown dog came running toward me. It bit and chewed at the creature's yellow tongue. It quickly released me and I staggered up. I ran toward joel.

“Come on! We need to go!” I said , guiding him. I stopped to grab my bow before running out of the gate. The dog was behind us. But so was the Toad. The brown dog ran toward a deserted bus that had been decorated, painted. The doors opened and he ran inside, Joel and I followed.

The bus looked like it had been someone’s home at one point. Many different things hung from the room and pages of magazines and drawings covered the windows. I looked around as Joel caught his breath and calmed himself down. I walked over to a table and sat down, looking at what seemed like craft supplies.

“Nice place” Joel said still out of breath “mine if I sit?” Now this man was talking to a dog, figures. The dog looked up as if to say “yes”. Joel sat on the bed and I moved next to him.

“Are you ok?” He asked sweetly

“Ya, I’m good” I said smiling

Joel nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Are you all alone?” I asked the dog, he was laying on a bed made out of a quilt and a pillow that said “boy” on it. The dog shifted its head away from us in response. I really love dogs, and this was breaking my heart. I sat down next to the animal and began petting it. I could feel Joel’s eyes on me. Eager to break the silence I decided to test my theory for the dog's name.

“Boy” I said and the dog sat up, he was suddenly all ears. “Is that your name? Boy?” I asked, smiling and giving him more pets. Joel smiled.

“Your names boy” joel said “I’m Joel, and that pretty lady is Y/N” he said gesturing to me “she’s my best friend, thank you for saving her” he whispered

I smiled, how could anyone not love this boy? This Aimee chick is quite lucky. I am worried though. What if she moved on? Joel would be broken.

“Nice to meet you” I said kissing the dog on the head

Joel smiled and then continued to look around. His eyes fell on a red dress.

“Is this a dress?” He asked picking it up

“No, it’s a hat” I said sarcastically, Joel looked at me, confused. “I’m kidding” I said and I could see the realization in his eyes. Suddenly Boy moved and grabbed the dress out of Joel’s hands and brought it back to his bed.

“Ok, I won’t touch it again” Joel said, throwing his hand up in defense. I looked carefully at the dog. He looked sad

“Was that your owner’s?” I asked, the dog stayed still. I laid down to get closer to him “it’s ok, you don’t have to talk about it” I looked at Joel and shrugged. Then I realized “wait did you think I was her?” I asked the dog, still he lay avoiding eye contact. I sighed, this poor dog.

“Hey um, I’m gonna lay down too” Joel chimed in “is that o…” he stopped to take off his backpack which seemed to startle the poor thing. “No it’s ok! It’s just my backpack” Joel reassures the dog. He plopped it down on the floor and moved his feet up on the bed. I laid down next to the dog bed, laying my bow and arrows next to me.

“Wait hey” Joel said sitting up a little “you don’t have to nap on the floor” he told me

“It’s fine, I like to be close to Boy” I responded smiling

“Are you sure? I mean I feel like I should really let you sleep on the bed since you almost died and I couldn’t save you” he said sitting up fully

“Joel, it’s fine! I'm serious, and please do not beat yourself up about that. It’s not your fault!” I told him, trying to ease his worry.

He nodded “kkkkkkkkkkk” he said “just take this though” he took off his red jacket and handed it to me

I gave him a look that said “no really I’m fine” then he returned the look with an “I insist” look. I gave in and used the jacket as a blanket. I closed my eyes, almost drifting off to sleep…..but then Joel was up and at em. He put his backpack on and began to walk out of the bus. I scrambled up and followed him. Guess we are leaving…. Boy followed us out and for some reason Joel seemed surprised.

“Oh hey are you coming with us?” Joel asked and Boy ran back inside “ok then” then suddenly Boy was back out with the red dress

“Oh yes of course, Joel,” I looked at Joel. “We cannot forget the dress!” I told him as if it was obvious

“Oh right ya, here Boy let me put it in my backpack” he tried to pull it away from Boy but he wouldn’t drop it

“Hey it’s ok, he’s gonna keep it so safe in the safe pack” I said kneeling down to sooth the dog. He let go and Joel put the red dress in his backpack. I adjusted my bow and we began walking. Me on the right, Joel on the left and Boy in the middle. My weird brain couldn’t help but think about if we could all be a family. If everything was normal. We would get married and adopt Boy. That is if I ever get the courage to tell Joel how I feel and if he feels the same. Welp! Until then I am stuck in my imagination as we venture closer toward our destination.

[the1918]

2020 for the1918

Am I the last person to make this list? Maybe. Do I regret that? Yes. Am I making it anyways because my cognitive behavioral therapy is teaching me fix my avoidance issues? Also Yes.

Let’s do this: @The Trees In Front of Cevans’s House and @Bucky’s Arm... you da real MVPs.

But other than them...

Thank You to Everyone that Truly Made My 2020:

@cantabile-l  Jo (Daddy Dumpster™ Co-Founder) — I have to list you first. How could I not? Every friendship I’ve made in this fandom comes back to you. We literally bonded over porn lookalikes and started this craziness called the Stucky Porn Lookalikes Archive ( @stucky-lookalikes-archive ) to preserve the porn, and it now has now has 85k hits and 500 bookmarks (!!!?!!). But it’s more than that, even more than starting the Daddy Dumpster™ and bonding over culihos. Bespoke got finished because you got me excited enough to want it, just like half a dozen other fics. You were also the basis for many, many other friendships that I list below. Your nesting head canons were the inspiration for so, so many A/B/O moments in my fics. We’re so on the same length on an intellectual and spiritual level (I feel like you and me and @ixalit are three parts of one whole ❤) and I am in love with you for it. Culihos forever.

@hanitrash​ Hani (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) —I’m so, so damn glad you’re in my life. We share that sick sense of humor and refusal to adopt a filter. You add flavor to our Dumpster™ with your wit, and I feel so warm when you share pics and updates about the family with us. You were the first person I ran to when I “discovered” HTP and you held my hand 😂 And Jesus—your talent. I could go on and on and on about Through The Darkness I Heard Your Voice and Private Showing, but also one of my New Year’s resolutions is to start reading your work as Loralynne Summers. Thank you for making me smile every day of last year since April.

@trekchik Jini (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) — I can’t speak to the number of laugh-out-loud, belly-grabbing, cackling moments I have had in a year that could easily have been shit otherwise, all because of you. I feel like you’ve truly become a member of my family; like, I see you posting in the Dumpster™ when I wake up in the morning and I think to myself, “Oh, what’s the fam up to today?”. I know I’ve gone on and on about your talent (absolute queen of dialogue and pacing) before, but I don’t thank you enough for keeping the Porn Archive alive when the rest of us are slacking. Your Stucky Tumblr Drabbles (especially the meet cutes) puts a smile on half the fandom’s face regulary, and I’m excited to re-read the wonderful Anagnorsis & Peripeteia soon. Here’s to another year of weird dildo pictures.

@thegodswife Amanda (Dumpster™ Citizen) — I feel like we were literally destined to become friends. The love I feel for you and your little family is real and immense, and I feel like your victories (in life and in writing) are my victories. You have made a slow but steady convert of me to Shrinkyclinks with fics like peaches and because it's christmas, and I am in awe of your talent for writing charged dynamics with jaw-dropping moments. This fandom is lucky to have such a gem as you. 2021 is going to be the Year of Amanda (*clinks Lindeman’s Framboise glasses 🥂*)

@ixalit Max (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My relationship with you has and continues to be lifechanging for more reasons than I can even go into on tumblr. You make me laugh. You make me cry (usually in good ways). You make me horny by supplying the #porn-and-fun as the dutiful resident horny teenage boy of Dumpster™. I remember so clearly when we first messaged talking about your Evanstan thoughts and fics, and I knew your writing was special then (omg, Hiraeth?? How dare). You deserve all the success you earned in 2020 and every bit more success that you will continue to have this year. There is no one else I would rather have with me as we make this ~journey through Song of the Rolling Earth together. 

@becassine Bex (Dumpster™ Citizen) — What can I say about my lucky charm? 🍀 I found our friendship later in the year and I feel it was truly central to the way I finished out my year with a bang (lol). Your encouragement to finish Bespoke supercharged me, and I’m still riding that high in writing SoRE. But for every bit we talk about you being the Queen of Hype (Becassine, First of Her Name), I am also stunned by your own gorgeous writing. The Way I Feel For You is a gift to this fandom and it’s gonna keep rocking our world, along with any other creative endeavor you choose to embark on. Thank you for the treasure of your continued friendship.

@darter-blue​ Bec (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My gorgeous, gorgeous cunt of a friend. What ever am I going to do with you? I feel like you and I have clicked so perfectly and so instantly, and I feel such a strong connection to you. I have been enamored with your skill and your style since I first stumbled across your Sergeant Barnes and Colonel Rogers: A Love Story series and then rapidly gobbled up your other writing. Getting to collab with you on No Vacancies was a dream come true. You make me feel so connected to the outside world and humanity even in this bizarre time and even though you’re on the other side of the world.

@kalee60 Kel (Dumpster™ Citizen) — You flawless sass-master. You brilliant human. You tricky little bastard. What a perfect addition to the Dumpster™ you have been! And your talent, Jesus... just being around you makes me want to write. I have truly never seen someone with as much talent write so prolifically, and I am in very real awe of it. If I had to pick “Fic of the Year” for me, I would not hesitate to pick Push The Button—it turned my world upside down—but for as much as we talk about that epic, your AU Extravaganza is really miracle to behold. And I am so, so pumped for you during this exciting time coming up in your life. Here’s to magnificent year for you in 2021!

@andysmountains​ Andy Gator Lord 🐊 — You’ve changed my life. I’m sitting here and I honestly don’t know how else to put it. You’re hilarious and you’re a ball of sunshine and you have kept this breeder feeling rooted to reality (in a great way) and remembering how to smile during some of the shittiest times I can remember. Newts. You’ve helped me explore my identity, and I’m not sure what greater gift you could have given me. Also, I’ve never heard true love whispered more sincerely than when I see 🔪—and I would give you nine hundred and ninety-seven 🔪 now if not for the fact that you have literally beat me to it.  

@ceratonia-siliqua Cera — We’ve shared so much. I feel so privileged that you’ve picked me to be a person that you want to talk to during hard times because you’re such a special guy, and because you’ve got talent that the world needs to see forever and ever and ever (I continue to blown away by what you did in Sunshine, and none of us are ready for Quilt Fic™) and I hope you never stop writing your whole damn heart out. I truly love you. I do. Thank you for reminding me that there is endless humanity and prose in this world.

@howdoyousleep3​ K — I feel like 2021 couldn’t be starting off better now that you’re in my life again. Last year was largely defined for me by the time I spent with you, and I’ve truly been changed by you and your writing. You are an endless amount of inspiration for me and this whole community; I would bet real money that the number of Daddy Kink converts that owe their new *interest* to finding your Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes series numbers in the hundreds (not to mention your other AUs). But fics aside, I had so many smiles and laughter throughout 2020 because of you, and I owe such a big part of my happy heart to you and your presence in my life. You have a huge, caring heart. Cheers to Cevans continuing to be a giant, bro-ish man slut and us never stopping giving him shit for it — and here’s to Trucker Bucky and his bug.

@lullabybeauty Bee — I’m not sure I would still be writing if it weren’t for you. The interest you took in my fics and endless support you’ve provided have turned me into a real-life 🥺🥺🥺 face so many times I can’t count them. But more than the hype you provide, you are an amazing person, and I hope you never stop putting (and ceaselessly keeping) the word out in our community through your blog that Black Lives Matter and black women matter now and forever; it’s far too easy for those of us who are white to let that truth fade from our minds when there’s not something terrible happening in the news, and I’m so thankful for your posts filling up my dash with reminders I need to be a good ally and giving me information to share with others. Thank you for the gift of yourself.

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore Caroline—You sort of swooped out of nowhere for me and boosted my confidence through the roof. Your comments and your hype and your hilarious tags remind me every day that writers are only half of the fanfiction equation; all we do without supportive friends like you is sit in the corner dreaming of stories we don’t have the confidence or feel-good to put to words. Thank you for your constant support and for being so. damn. cool.

@littlesurfergrl Heather—Oh, Heather. Queen of the A+ tags. Sender of inbox updates about what time you get off of work and why you’re vibrating to read a fic. All-around beautiful person. Your love and support is magic in my veins.

@hoeforthegays Baby J—I am so damn excited for this creative project you’ve taken on; you are so talented. I look forward to our thirst talks all the time. You make me laugh with your screaming and even your advice. Such a source of sunshine in my life.

@capbvckyrogers / @tae-withsuga Cam — You were the first person who ever reblogged a farmer daddy post. You were the first person who ever sent me a prompt. Honestly, you were the first person who ever bonded with me over a character. There zero (0) chance I would have enjoyed fandom (or certainly any kind of creative success) the way that I did in 2020 if not for you. Thank you, endlessly. 

@justice-for-plums​ Kenz — Another “late in the year” friendship find that I am so grateful for. I love our talks! I am so thankful you felt comfortable to reach out and talk about writing. Our workshopping has helped remind me of what works and what doesn’t for me, and I love the creative collaboration on head canons! Excited for more in 2021.

Shrunkyclunks Bitches®, or those not mentioned already above: @dreadlockholiday (co-founder of the Bitches® with @justice-for-plums​ and #1 reason I blushed last year), @oh-i-swear-writes​ @wayward-lives​ @allegedlyann and others I either am missing on tumblr or forgetting (but not because I don’t love you) — Here’s to Cap Steve and modern Bucky and 1,000,000+ words written during our writing sprints in 2021. [Bitches® server membership is open by the way! If you love Shrunkyclunks, contact Dready @dreadlockholiday​].

And to the endless list of others who made me smile, laugh, sometimes cry, feel proud, but always feel that incredible Stucky love — a list that includes but is certainly not limited to @fishcustardandclintbarton,​ @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier, @willbakewithstucky, @hannah-stagram​, @thewaythatwerust​, @bigbraiiin, @musette22, @luninosity​, @fandomfluffandfuck​, @maddiewritesstucky​, @hbalbat, @doctorenterprise​, @epicstuckyficrecs, @k347 and the massive important people I know I am forgetting (...like some BIG ones)

To everyone above and anyone else who has scrolled this far:

Thank you.

Let’s all have a fantastic 2021 🥂

[demenior]

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons: 

I love talking about my own work and 

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and 

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories. 

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God. 

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’. 

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency. 

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics. 

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression. 

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question. 

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”. 

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish? 

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent 

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult 

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance! 

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired). 

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc. 

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years. 

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did. 

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.) 

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

[justletmeplayminecraft]

Okay so this may be a lil dumb but imagine the angst potential that Mumbo leaving the MR wasnt about ‘vaults’ he’s just fed up of Grian using him as a scapegoat that lands him in trouble or kinda humiliates him cause my brain goin brrr with that idea

oh this is absolutely not dumb i love it! especially given how they basically just recruited mumbo as a scapegoat, didn't even give him something to do compared to the latest HEP developments which were in xb's video... i love mumbo taking a more active role in his treatment, finally putting his foot down.

also, wrote a short 1kish ficlet under the cut based on mumbo & cub's meet up. it's basically a sad mumbo and cub comforting him but i thought it was sweet. read it if you wish!

It sounds like a weird thing to say. No, in fact, he knows it's a weird thing to say. Yet, looking around the HEP factory, Mumbo finds himself a little reluctant to leave. He must've spent around an hour with Cub already just talking about the vaults he's built. They're impressive things! From the front door, to a vault inside a vault! Mumbo had so many questions, and Cub answered them with matching enthusiasm. And now it's around the time he knows they should be parting ways but-

"Mumbo?" Cub calls him back to attention, voice soft. It echoes around the empty space of the factory, its brick shell waiting to be filled. Scar really is such a good builder. "Dude, you alright?" Mumbo sighs, turning to Cub when he steps beside him.

"I-" He closes his mouth to rethink what he wants to say. His hands tuck into the pockets of his trousers. He'll fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves otherwise. Learnt habits. Finally, he gathers the courage to ask, "Do you mind if a vent a little?" Cub tilts his head, dark eyes squinting in concern. Mumbo... Wasn't expecting that. Even when Cub speaks, Mumbo's waiting for an excuse why he doesn't have time.

Instead Cub tells him, "Come and sit down, then." He leads Mumbo to the bed he placed earlier. Mumbo doesn't understand why he feels so surprised. When did he get so used to people pushing him away? He takes a seat on the blue quilt, sinking into the comfortable fabric. Cub places down his ender chest, sitting down there, leaning towards him. "What's up, Mumbo? I know it's been a while since we last talked."  

"I just-" His hands dig into his lap now they don't fit in his pockets. He refuses to fiddle. "I feel like nobody really appreciates me, you know?" Cub's brows lower enough that Mumbo can see them beneath his helmet.

"On the server? 'Cause, you gotta know we love you here. The stuff you build is incredible, man. I wish I could build farms like you." Mumbo smiles, but his heart isn't in it.

"Sometimes it feels like that's all people want me for." He sighs, sinking onto his legs. His suit crumples around him, pulling tight around his chest. As silly as it sounds, it feels like a layer of protection. Him and his suit in this massive factory. Accompanied by Cub's concerned gaze.

"Explain it to me," Cub encourages. There's no judgment in his voice. None of his body language suggests an ulterior motive. Cub wants to listen to his worries. Goodness, why is that so surprising? Why is he so used to people stepping over him?

"I feel like I'm always just- ugh, I don't know how to say this." He tries to connect his thoughts back together. There's no pressure on him, but he still feels an urge to rush as if Cub's patience might run out any second. He tries again, "I always seem to be the butt of jokes nowadays. I mean, the whole mayor thing, for one. And now! I may act oblivious, but I'm not. Not really. They were setting me up to take their fall and I just- is that fair? Is that fair to me?"

"Mumbo," Cub says his name in a tone similar to Xisuma's when he's telling Mumbo to get some rest. "You understand you can say no to these things, right?" Mumbo's breath comes out in a frustrated puff. Fabric bunches between his fingers, trousers misshapen around his legs.

"I do. At least, I think I do." He scrubs a hand over his face, pushing hair back under his helmet. "Maybe I was foolish. But I hoped, maybe this time, I'd actually be involved in things. I could do something. But I don't even think they consider me a member! Just a scapegoat for them!" His hand returns to his lap like it's made of concrete. "Don't get me wrong, I'd do it for the plot. But... I don't think I'd enjoy it."

"Hey, Mumbo." Cub's voice settles him, gentle and reassuring. Mumbo's shoulders sink at the sound. Was he really holding that much tension? "If I've ever done something to pressure you, then I'm really sorry, man. This is supposed to be for fun." Mumbo finds he can't look at Cub anymore, the genuine apology squeezing his heart tight.

"I- You're okay, Cub. You're fine." His lips twitch into a sad smile. "I know these storylines mean a lot for people, I don't blame anyone... I think I'm just tired." Cub's tanned skin comes into his vision, taking Mumbo's pale hand into his own. Mumbo looks up, finding eyes so earnest it takes his breath away.

"You're right that this isn't fair on you." Mumbo doesn't want to admit that he nearly cries at those words, but he very nearly does. How long has he wanted his worries to be validated, now? His feelings acknowledged? "If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know. I can tell the others to tone it down, if you need."

"No, no, they're okay. I don't want to cause problems." Cub looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. Mumbo is grateful. There are some problems he's not ready to unpack just yet.

"That's alright. If you ever want to talk to me, let me know, okay? I'll be a willing ear, all plotlines put aside." Mumbo's smile is genuine this time.

"I... I really appreciate that, Cub. Thank you."

Cub squeezes his hand, "It's no problem, man. It's what friends do." Yeah. Friends. Mumbo swallows.

"I should probably be going. I was hoping to plan out some farms tonight." Despite Cub's concern, he helps Mumbo onto his feet.

"You sure?" Mumbo sends that smile in Cub's direction as he flattens out his suit.

"Yeah. I really am grateful for all this, Cub. It means a lot." Cub's smile is just as nice to see.

"I'm glad. Anything I can do to help. I'm just a message away, got it?" Mumbo nods, tapping the communicator in his cufflink.

"Got it. I'll see you around, dude. Thank you, again."

"Not a problem. Was nice talking to you."

Cub doesn't even make a comment about joining HEP as they part ways. They're just two friends. No war, no plotlines. Mumbo breathes in the grass outside the factory, closing his eyes against the bright sun. It's a beautiful day. He likes the crunch of grass under his shoes, how he can't smell the ever-present fungus from the shopping district.

Yeah. He's got some things to think about.

[middlechildanxiety]

I have a friend who constantly says that my family acts like a mafia or a cult. So, I've decided to collect the mafia and/or cult like behaviors of my family. Most of them are very cultish.

We will, occasionally, chant our family name

We refer to non-blood extended family as "married-ins"

When one of us really likes you, we will have you spend more and more time with various family members to see if you get along. It is generally acknowledged that if you don't vibe well with three or more of us, you will not be sticking around long, and that's okay

Once you are part of the family, you don't get to leave. If Gluttony had said the word, we would have done unspeakable things to The Ex, but the divorce was on good terms and The Ex is stuck going to family events and gatherings until they die

You also don't necessarily get to choose if you join the family. Once we decide we like you, we keep you

Most of us gravitate towards people who don't have a solid place of their own

We are sometimes uncomfortably close

Specifically, we lack boundaries. The girls will just start changing in front of each other mid conversation, or hang out with minimal clothing

Us siblings will share everything with each other. Sexual fantasies, my fanfic habits, my sister's and cousin's first sex dream, crushes, when we cheated in school, gossip about friends.....certain siblings share less with others, but a few of us are a bit too open

Pride, the youngest, talks to 'spirits', and given our experience with haunted houses, she might actually be able to

We often hate each other but are concerningly ride-or-die

Wrath isn't allowed in my room, but if they called at 3 in the morning I would drive across the state with/for them

The two years I was at school I "talked to" no less than three people about how they could be nicer to my siblings (I make promises and give guidance, I would never threaten, of course)

We are especially protective of the younger two, to the point of being vicious

I once scared my brother's friend so bad after he made Pride cry that we never saw him again

Very comfortable talking about killing. We know each other's lists of who we might kill first

Even more comfortable talking about death, and have almost all expressed what we want done with our remains when we die, even the youngest two

We get really cutthroat about board games and any team sports/games we play, but that may be a big family thing

We have a family quilt with pictures on it. I know other families do too, it just feels weird

We treat certain meals like rituals. I don't mean like lunch/supper, I mean the food itself. If mom makes That recipe, you show up early, wait for your predetermined turn, and sit with each other to eat because you do

[kittybellestark]

Valentine’s Day

This is soft boi Peter celebrating Valentine’s day the best way he knows how too.

I’m a little late with this I know. But but but I’m also right on time? Anyways please enjoy this. It’s really not angsty at all. There’s a lil bit of insecure Peter, and some miscommunication but this is some soft stuff okay?

-

Valentine’s Day was probably Peter’s favourite day of the year. He loved the pinks and reds and the extra excuse to cherish all the people he loved. It was cheesy and corny, but did Peter ever love the day. He never got to celebrate it for what it actually was-a romantic day- not with his short fling with Liz and not with MJ either. But that’s okay, Peter loved the day anyways.

He didn’t really understand people’s hatred for it. Yes, it was now mostly just a capitalist ploy to have everyone buy into, but it was more than that for Peter.

Valentine’s Day was an excuse Peter was able to use to show the few people he had left that he appreciated them. It was a day of celebrating love and a day to fall in love with yourself. Peter liked that.

He worked hard on finding what he could make that could fit into the Valentine’s theme without being too obvious. it often took months of work and crafting to make sure he was content with what he’d gift to everyone.

For Ned it was a portrait of the two but made of Lego. For MJ (despite the relationship ending they were still friends) sketchbooks where he made the paper and bounded it himself. For May a new throw blanket, made with the chunkiest yarn he could find at the discount store. For Happy a keychain with a little toy car attached, painted to say ‘Happy Taxi,’ on it. For Pepper a crocheted cardigan this time with crushed velvet and for Tony a painting of his mother.

He was good at making things for other people, to show them his appreciation and love. He worked tirelessly on them, letting it take up his free time. But it made him happy to know that he made something with his bare hands and was able to gift it to someone he loves.

No one really understood why he gave these gifts other than May. She would always give him a small smile and a hug and then the next day he’d get discounted chocolate. May was the only one who knew that Peter did all the work himself. Everyone else just thought he purchased them. Which was fine.

No one needed to know about the sleepless nights or bleeding fingertips. They didn’t need to know how long he spent working on each individual thing. And they most certainly didn’t need to know that Peter was selling some of his own possessions to be able to fund their gifts.

Peter didn’t really plan on telling any of them either. Why should he? He’s showing his appreciation to them, learning these new skills and then becoming good at them is just a way to learn and to show his love. Besides, he wants to show his appreciation, not force the people he loves to gift him something back.

Maybe the presents he gifts them end up shoved in the back of closets or tossed out after a month. That was fine. Just because he was showing his appreciation doesn’t mean they have to show theirs. Valentine’s Day is Peter’s favourite day, it doesn’t mean that the people in his life also need to like it.

But now it was nearing Valentine’s Day and Peter and Harley were kind of sort of maybe a thing. Honestly, Peter wasn’t very sure at this point. It wasn’t like Harley was one for talking about these things. But they had made out a few times and seemed to dance around any possibility of feelings.

Harley wouldn’t talk about his feelings, he was never very open about his emotions. Besides, Harley had a reputation at school for his relationships, if anyone could actually call a hook-up a relationship. Overall, Peter was very confused. Harley was sweet and kind. He made jokes that only Peter would get and casually sling his arm over Peter shoulders. Sometimes at the tower they’d find themselves cuddled on the couch when no one was around or sometimes Peter would find himself pressed against a wall as Harley tried to bruise his neck.

There weren’t officially together, due to the lack of communicating, which meant they technically weren’t exclusive. Peter wanted to be exclusive, but every time he tried to talk about it Harley would deflect and change the conversation. But now it’s coming close to Valentine’s Day and Peter doesn’t want it to be weird. Harley only started going to school with them this year, and while he’s been in the same friend group as Peter, it doesn’t mean he won’t look at the gift wrong. Most people think that Valentine’s Day is inherently romantic. And Peter really doesn’t want to freak Harley out, especially not when they’re still... enjoying each others company. 

It’s not like Harley ever celebrated Valentine’s Day the way Peter does. No one really does. So this might scare Harley. He could think that Peter believes their exclusive and while that is what Peter wants, Peter is also very, very painfully aware that that the two of the just hook up.

Spotting Harley already at their lunch table, created the perfect opportunity for Peter to explain his version of the day. Ned and MJ would be there, which would let them serve as proof that Peter just likes Valentine’s Day. So Peter hurried over to their table and sat across from Harley. It didn’t take much longer for Ned and MJ to join them and everyone to fall into their easy banter.

“So! Valentine’s Day is next week.” Peter couldn’t help the little shoulder shimmy, showing his excitement.

“Yeah, loser, what’d you get us this year?” MJ snorted.

MJ thought Peter’s idea of Valentine’s Day was cute. She was morally against the Hallmark Holiday but she indulged Peter by always accepting his gift. MJ would always roll her eyes and make some remark of her not celebrating the day but would always thank Peter for the gift. She knew the day was important to him and wouldn’t ever flat out reject Peter’s way of showing he cares.

“I can’t ruin the surprise, you’ll just have to wait,” Peter rolled his eyes, bumping his shoulder against hers, “but Harley has never been here for a Valentine’s Day before.”

“Valentine’s Day is a romantic holiday to take advantage of susceptible couples what of it?”

“Peter doesn’t celebrate the day like that,” Ned explained. “He uses the day to show the people closest to him he cares. So he usually buys us all something he thinks we’ll appreciate.”

Harley raised his eyebrows surveying Peter like this was some sort of mystery when it was really simple.

“Yeah, I mean my family is like all dead, so I like to show the people that I have left that I appreciate them. Valentine’s Day is a good excuse. Also not tainted the way other holidays are with missing my family so...”

“Peter!” Ned scolded, “You can’t just drop the dead parents card, that makes people uncomfortable.”

Ned threw a pack of crackers at Peter in punishment, not that it actually ended up hitting Peter. Instead Peter caught it before cracking opening up with a cheeky grin, popping one of the crackers into his mouth. 

“Listen, if I can’t talk about how my parents are dead because it makes other’s uncomfy then I don’t want other people talking about their alive parents because it makes me uncomfy.”

The group laughed before getting back onto track. 

“Anyways, Harley, I’ve got everyone else a gift for Valentine’s Day, can I get you one or does that make you uncomfortable? I don’t mind either way, and you don’t have to get me anything back, I celebrate the day differently and I don’t expect anyone else to celebrate the way I do.”

Harley seemed to consider Peter’s words, his eyes squinting slightly and his head tilting to the side. There was an edge of discomfort and something else Peter couldn’t really identify painted onto Harley’s face. Peter bit onto his own lip waiting for Harley’s answer and really couldn’t help but notice how pretty the boy was. 

“Peter buy’s the best gifts. Last year he bought me this quilt and I literally cannot sleep without it now.” 

The amount of times Peter bled over that stupid quilt- it wasn’t a stupid quilt. It was actually really cool. Peter went from thrift store to thrift store finding cool t-shirts and fabric swatches. He found an old sewing machine- from the 50′s no less- that hardly worked and he fixed up the best he could. No one really made parts for a sewing machine that old anymore, not with them being antiques and everything. But because it was so badly damaged, he got it for next to nothing. Fixing the thing had taken what felt like a century, and the research behind it along with creating all the necessary parts was extremely painful. But the quilt was worth it, and Peter was able to get all the bloodstains out. Ned loved the thing. It was big enough to fit on a king bed, not that Ned had a king size bed now, but there was a possibility he’d get one in the future.

“It’s true, last year Peter got me this painting done of my Grandmother in Washington protesting. I still have no clue how he found that.” 

Finding a picture of MJ’s grandmother was already very, very hard to do. But he managed to find a picture when he was over at MJ’s house once and cross referenced it from a textbook from the early 2000′s. From there he had the picture enhanced and expanded. Then it was just a matter of tracing the picture onto canvas, and learning how to paint. The whole thing was a wreck and Peter was positive that he was going to ruin the whole thing multiple times over, but eventually it resembled to actual photo and then started to look decent. By the time Valentine’s Day came around he only needed a frame, and Peter was okay with the idea of just purchasing a frame was more than enough. 

“I do happen to know a lot of people, and they also know people. And a few of them owe me some favours.”

“Peter there’s no way you know enough people to find something like that.” MJ rolled her eyes.

“I personally know three, no five billionaires, but I only consistently talk to three, I know not one, not two but three groups of super heroes, then I also know a bunch of other vigilantes and not to mention I know so many small business owners. It’s called networking M, it’s an extremely important skill to have.”

MJ scoffed in response, now taking her turn to bump her shoulder into Peter’s. 

“I don’t know why I ever broke up with you, you could have networked me into a world take over.”

“Maybe because we both realized we weren’t straight, I’m bi, you’re a lesbian? Wait no that was a power move, lesbian-bisexual solidarity. Honestly I’m not too sure anymore, might be the long distance thing we had going on, we used to sit kiddy-corner to each other at lunch. It was much to far to support our relationship.”

Ned pretended to gag, but in actuality was trying not to laugh. 

“You guys were insufferable when you were dating but it’s marginally worse now.”

“It’s because we’re gay,” Peter answered.

“Bitches.” 

“Say’s the token straight friend,” MJ quipped.

Ned stuck out his tongue, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“So am I buying you something or not Harls? Whatever you’re okay with, I don’t expect anything back.” 

“I’m only sayin’ yes because of those wonderful testimonies. I better be dazzled Parker.” 

The table cheered. Peter couldn’t help the pit of anxiety that started to form in his stomach. Now he had a week to make Harley the perfect gift and make sure that the message behind it didn’t lead to far on the romantic side. Up to this point Harley was clear about the one thing they’re not, which is the one thing Peter wants the most. So now this gift not only was going to be rushed, but not put any more pressure onto Harley then there already was. 

This was going to be tricky.

The week went by faster then Peter was expecting. Valentine’s Day was the next day and Peter had just barely managed to pull together something, somewhat decent for Harley. Between his friends and the occasional make out session in the alley way behind the school, Peter was genuinely surprised he managed to make things work. 

He scoured the internet and libraries looking for the perfect thing. Harley had been getting increasingly homesick, bringing up certain stores and area’s of Rosehill that he missed the most. So Peter found old pictures, many of them pre-dating Harley, and some from when the town was first established and he learned to stretch canvas and print the pictures onto it. Before printing the pictures Peter printed the headlines that the town had that really stood out to him, some from the city being founded, to others about Tony Stark making an appearance in town. With the pictures printed on top the headlines were only visible in certain lights. 

Peter really hoped that this gift wasn’t too much. 

“May?” Peter called from his room, each gift was laid out across his bed, except the one for May, ready for inspection. 

He paced around his room, worried that nothing was good enough, that he had made a mistake somewhere. Maybe the cardigan was too loosely crocheted, or the painting of Maria wasn’t accurate. The sketchbooks not enough, the Lego portrait not the right colours. Maybe everything was completely wrong and now it was too late to restart them. This would be so much easier if Peter just purchased some gifts for everyone instead. God, what if he had over stepped with something.

May walked into his room, a smile forming on her face at each display of affection her kid created for the people he cared about. Peter taught himself new skills to try and create things people would love and he never, ever took any credit for his own work. All Peter ever wanted to do was show people that he cared and loved them.

“Peter these are beautiful. When are you going to be giving them out tomorrow?”

Peter shook his head.

“I’m going for brunch with Ned, MJ and Harley. Then after that Harley and I are going to the tower, so I’ll be able to give Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts their gifts. Then Happy will be driving me home so I can be here for when your shift ends, so he’ll get his then. And then you get yours tomorrow night,” he explained voice rushed, and face flushed. “I think I overstepped though, with Harley. Honestly probably Mr. Stark too. I don’t know. It’s not like they’ll be keeping this stuff long term anyways right? It’s not actual quality, they’ll keep it out of curtesy then toss it out when they no longer feel like I’ll be offended. I mean, Mr. Stark probably won’t because that’s a painting of his mom, so it’ll probably just end up in storage. But Harley will. May, he’s going to think I’m such a loser for getting him this, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

May hummed, pulling Peter in for a hug. The boy melted in her arms, hugging her back. Peter rested his head on her shoulder, and tried to calm his breathing. May could feel him trying to force himself to match her own. 

“Baby, you made them all thoughtful gifts. You put your heart into this stuff. They’ve all been so good at accepting and appreciating the things you’ve given them. Now I don’t know how Harley will react to your gift, but I don’t think you over stepped. You’ve been pinning after that boy for months now and if he can’t see how much of a gem you are from this then he needs to open his eyes a little wider. Peter Benjamin Parker, you are a beautiful soul and these things you made for everyone reflects exactly who you are.”

“Okay. Sure, yeah. Alright. Tomorrow will be fine.”

It wasn’t fine. 

Well, it was fine, it just didn’t go over the way Peter was hoping for. Brunch went pretty well. Peter and Ned sat next to each other in a both, with MJ directly across from Peter and Harley next to her. They all drank milkshakes and all got different breakfasts. Peter ate crepes, MJ ate waffles, Ned had pancakes and Harley had a typical eggs, sausage, bacon and toast. Their group was there for nearly there for two hours when they started to wrap things up. Which meant it was time for Peter to give them all his gifts.

“I think Harley should get his first, because it’s his first time being here for Peter’s version of Valentines Day.”

MJ winked at Peter after her suggestion. She knew about their complicated web of a relationship. 

“Yeah!” Ned agreed, “we’ve all gotten years of this so Harley gets the honour of going first.”

Peter nodded in agreement and Harley smiled. All the gifts were in canvas bags, leaning against the window of their booth. It was best for proper protection, and also made carrying the canvases a lot easier. 

“Show me whachu got darlin’. I’m sure you found somethin’ great.”

He pulled out the canvas with a picture printed of Rose Hill’s town square, from some time ago. A few of the businesses in the were shockingly still around, and there happened to be a festival going on at the time. Peter had tried his best to find out what festival could have been happening but unfortunately there wasn’t much information online.

“Alright, so I managed to find this, but if you don’t like it I can have it returned,” he couldn’t return it, but Harley doesn’t need to know that. Really, Peter would either put it in storage or he would burn it. 

Peter handed it over with a smile, Ned nudging him just a little bit. Harley took it, and stared at it for much to long without a reaction. His face remained blank, jaw set and Peter felt his stomach drop. Peter had really believed this was something Harley would like, but maybe he misread what Harley meant by homesick. 

Peter felt like an idiot.

“Okay well, MJ here’s yours.” 

He pulled out the homemade sketchbooks, each in a different colour and tried not to look back at Harley. MJ took the notebooks, flipping through the pages a smile on her face. There was orange and red and blue and green, enough of a variety to give her a challenge when drawing, or to set the mood.

“They’re all 100% recycled paper. I know you were saying you were running low on sketchbooks and wanted to find some more ethically made ones so...”

“They’re wonderful Peter, thank you.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. No sarcastic remarks this time, a clear sign that MJ didn’t approve of Harley’s lack of reaction. Peter shook his head and MJ frowned.

“Okay Ned, this one is for you, be careful it’s a little delicate, not that it can’t be fixed but if you drop it then that’s it.”

“Yeah, yeah just let me have it.”

Peter handed over the Lego portrait, it was large, to say the least, the background red and it was accurate as it could be for plastic blocks. Ned gasped, and his grip tightened on the portrait. Peter watched Ned put it down and was pulled into a quick side hug.

“Dude! This is so cool, this is us! I can’t wait to put this on display in my room. This is so cool, they better make us into a Lego movie now.”

Everyone except Harley laughed. MJ and Ned both gave Peter looks of confusion and he didn’t have a response other than a shrug. This wasn’t the reaction any of them were expecting Harley to have. Not this silence. But Harley just continued to sit there, looking tense, no longer looking at the picture gifted to him.

“Okay, well Mr. Stark is expecting us at the tower in the next hour and we’re an hour and a half away so Harley and I should probably get going.”

Alone time could help. Or it could make things worse. They only had to sit through a bus ride and a subway trip before the tower. Maybe then Harley will have something to say. Besides they both have to work with Tony together. It’s a lot of time to spend together.

The group of teens all walked out of the diner, saying goodbyes and as they separated, gifts in hand. Peter followed slightly behind Harley as the made their way to the bus, trying not to accidentally destroy Tony’s or Pepper’s gift by taking up too much room on the side walk. He couldn’t help but notice the tight grip Harley used to hold on the canvas and Peter was very worried that Harley was going to stretch it or break the thing. 

Peter tried to start conversations with Harley. But every question ended with a shrug for an answer. It was clear to Peter that somehow, someway he royally screwed up. The bus ride was bad, the subway ride was awkward but the elevator ride up the tower was unbearable. Any reaction would have been better, in Peter’s eyes. He would take Harley screaming and tossing the canvas, never wanting to see him over this horrid silence. It was too tense, and Peter was genuinely worried that making any sort of sound or movement would make things crumble. At least he wouldn’t be at the tower for too long.

The elevator doors opened to the penthouse and both the boys exited. Harley stormed off to his room and Peter went to the kitchen. After hearing Harley’s door slam shut Peter put his bags down onto the island and checking to make sure that there’s no damage on either of the gifts. 

Tony entered the area, a big smile on his face. He was dressed up a suit jacket being carried in his arms. Tony and Pepper were supposed to be going out on a date, apparently Valentine’s Day is a great excuse to leave work behind for a few hours.

“Hey Roo, thought you and Harley would be hanging out?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to but I’m gonna head home. I just wanted to make sure you and Ms. Potts got your gifts. Right, yes okay first of all happy Valentine’s Day second of all I have gifts.”

Tony rolled his eyes with a fond smile. He placed his jacket down on one of the stools, and jumped up onto the island counter. He was careful to not disturb the things that were already on the counter. 

“Why is it that you get to buy Pepper and I gifts but then when I try to buy you something it becomes a whole thing?”

“Because when you buy me gifts it is typically something that is over the top. You tried buying a chocolate company because I was sad they were discontinuing my favourite kind. Our idea of gifts are very different.”

Peter stuck out his tongue and Tony flipped him off. 

“Okay, fine whatever now gimmie. You bought me a gift that means you can’t just not give it.”

The teen laughed pulling the painting out from the canvas bag. He handed it over and Tony took it, flipping it around to see Maria. Tony’s one hand went and covered his mouth and Peter gave a small smile. Tony gave himself a minute to recompose himself before reaching out his hand to touch his mothers face.

“Pete... How did you find this?”

Peter shrugged. “I know some people, and they also happen to know some people. They happened to not know that this was your mom and were trying to sell it so I got it.”

Really Peter saw a picture of Maria in the Penthouse, took a picture of the picture, stretched canvas went to the art store bought supplies. Sketched out Maria, tried putting down a base coat, cried because it was ugly, Tried painting it again, cried a little more while repeating “trust the process,” and the eventually it started to look vaguely familiar. Peter hated the process from beginning to end, but the painting itself was goo enough to gift so that was great too.

Just then Pepper walked into the room, hair curled and in a beautiful dark blue dress. She smiled at Peter before taking notice of Tony and the painting in his hands. Pepper grabbed onto Tony’s leg with a soft sigh. Peter felt like he was infringing in their moment when Tony looked up and her and Pepper ran her fingers through his hair.

“I uh, I didn’t get it framed, I didn’t feel that was right to do. I thought you might like finding a frame that fits your moms personality or making one, I dunno.”

“No, no, no that’s perfect. Thank you, Peter, this was just- thank you.”

“Literally no problem, Mr. Stark. I also got one for you Miss. Potts, though it’s not like an emotion one, I just thought you might want something for comfort when at home.”

Pepper tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips, eyes crinkling just so. “Peter, you really didn’t have to buy me anything.”

I know,” Peter dragged out his words head bobbing back and forth as he reached into the bag to get the sweater. 

Once it was out of the bag, Peter all but pushed it into Pepper’s arms. She unfolded the soft crushed-velvet cardigan. It was a deep purple colour, and used a simple enough pattern. There were a few golden buttons sewn on in case Pepper would want something that buttoned up. Getting Pepper’s measurements weren’t too hard for Peter, he just logged into FRIDAY’s servers, then went searching through things he doesn’t have access too and then wrote down everything he needed to know. Luckily for Peter, Pepper and May roughly were the same size, so May was his model in the end. The Cardigan should reach to just above Pepper’s knees and be slightly oversized on her. The entire process was painful, using a crushed velvet yarn was an ambitious move, especially considering that Peter’s crocheting skills are very basic. It was overall a success but a painful one.

“Oh wow, Peter this is really nice.”

She put on the sweater, lifting up one finger up before rushing to the bathroom to look in the mirror. 

“Peter this is so nice? Where did you find this? The quality is incredible and you can tell this is handmade by someone who cares for their work. Also It’s soft and, oh my god there’s pockets. Tony, honey, look, pocket’s I’m just saying that there’s not enough pockets in the world. I think I could fit a book in these pockets.”

Pepper stepped out of the bathroom and Peter was very happy to see it fit her properly. Her hands were deep in the pockets lifting the two sides of the cardigan up to showcase that the pockets were in fact real. She dropped her arms to the side after a moment, taking her hands out of her pocket and giving a little twirl. 

“This is probably my new favourite sweater, Peter. Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem Miss. Potts. I’m going to head out now, happy Valentine’s Day.”

Both the adults wished Peter well and on his way out Peter had seen Happy and was able to let the man know not to pick him up later as well as give him the little keychain.  Happy pretended to think the Happy Taxi keychain was very funny. Peter knew he did in fact enjoy the joke, as Happy had put it onto his keyring immediately. And Happy doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to- at least not when it comes to Peter.

The journey home from the tower was rough. Peter couldn’t help but thinking of Harley. By the time Peter got home he was consumed by everything he could have possibly done wrong. Maybe the gift was too much. Or not enough. Harley might actually hate the pictures that Peter picked out. Peter could have messed things up earlier and Harley just felt this was the right time to ice him out. Did Peter’s breath stink the last time they hooked up? Was he too clingy or just not good enough? Harley has a few people he hooks up with at school, which he’s stopped with everyone except Peter, so maybe Harley was upset with Peter.

Peter just wanted to scream. He tried his best to be what Harley wanted, to go with whatever flow was being set. Harley didn’t seem to want anything serious so Peter stopped trying to define what they were. They’re friends who kiss and that’s fine, except maybe Harley never wanted any of this and Peter pressured him into this. The entire thing was a mess, and Peter wished he knew what he did wrong. 

Boys are complicated.

Harley is complicated. 

It was March 1st before Harley started to talk to Peter again. Their group of friends had been tense, Ned and MJ did their best to keep things from getting awkward. None of it really worked. Harley would talk to everyone but Peter, and when Peter would try and talk he would be glared at instead.  But finally after two weeks of nothing Peter got a text.

Come over now ?

Peter’s anxiety went through the roof, but this was good right? A step in the right direction? Peter wasn’t so sure what it could mean, but talking was definitely better than nothing. So Peter responded and made his way over.

This could be the end of their friendship. What if Harley friend-breaks up with Peter? That would be mortifying. To be called over just to be told that Harley no longer see’s Peter as a friend is nightmare. It could be a reality. Peter must have messed up badly if Harley was calling him up to friend breakup. 

One Peter made it up to the pent house he was surprised to see Harley making popcorn in the kitchen. Peter had stepped out of the elevator, arms crossed over his chest, moving to sit at the kitchen island.

“I’m making popcorn. We’re watching a movie.”

Peter couldn’t help but nodding too fast too soon. He didn’t much like the way Harley was talking or Harley’s tense shoulders. It was too matter-of-fact. Harley didn’t have the emotion’s that usually filled his actions and move, not a single nickname or pushing his accent to sound stronger.  This was just Harley without the usual charm and it worried Peter. 

They both moved over to the living room once Harley was done with the popcorn. Peter sat down in his usual spot- on the left end of the couch and Harley, well Harley just a little bit farther away than usual. It wouldn’t have been too noticeable to Peter if Harley hadn’t shut him out.

But now Peter noticed everything. 

He couldn’t help but notice the way Harley’s heart was beating just a little bit faster than it usually did. Peter noticed the way Harley would not relax, how each movement was carefully thought out. Harley wouldn’t let himself take full breaths, and Peter could feel the vibration on the floor from Harley bouncing his foot. 

Peter was so focused on Harley, trying to find out Harley could possibly be thinking. He wasn’t paying any attention to the movie was playing, or even what Harley’s actions were. Peter was so focused on trying to understand everything about Harley that he missed it when Harley moved. 

Well, Peter missed it up until there was lips on his neck. 

Harley’s hands moved to Peter’s waist, trying to pull Peter up on top of himself without losing any contact. The tension in Harley’s muscles started to relax, and Peter couldn’t stop himself from melting into Harley.

This- Peter could be what Harley wanted like this. He can be pliable or rough. Whatever Harley needed, whatever Harley wanted, Peter could be it. It’s easy to be good and in the moment with Harley. There was no talking, sure, that wasn’t great. But kissing? Sitting on Harley’s lap? That was good.

Here, Peter can be whatever Harley wants him to be. No picture on a canvas or anger. The attention isn’t solely wrapped around the lack of talking between the two, but of them together. Peter can be what Harley wants, he really, can. He just need too-

No. Peter can’t be whatever Harley wants. Not without the communication. And definitely not with everything that’s happened in the last two weeks. Every day Peter has ran through what exactly went wrong on Valentine’s Day. Whether it was the gift, or the place, maybe it was some sort of unknown expectation Harley had. But it led to nothing. Peter felt like nothing. Peter doesn’t what to be nothing, not even if that’s what Harley wants him to be. 

He can’t be here, not like this. 

“Harley, Harley, stop.” 

Tears burned in Peter’s eyes as he forced them shut and turned his head away. Harley pushed Peter off of his lap without a second thought, and Peter hated how that felt personal. 

“Darling, what’s happening? Did I do something to upset you?”

Peter wanted to hate that honey-thick accent, but he also just wanted that concern to be real. Not that the concern was fake- Harley wasn’t the type to fake concern- but Peter wanted it to be more than just situational. He wanted things to be deeper, Peter wanted Harley to care about him the same way he cares about Harley. And if Peter couldn’t have that, then he wanted to hate Harley and his stupid accent, and southern charm, and blue eyes and not-quite-brown-but-not-really-blond-hair. 

So he straightened his shoulders out, and took a deep breath in. Peter opened his eyes to Harley only being a few inches in front of him. Barely enough room to breathe, but also way too much room. Peter sat more up right and shook his head.

“I can’t do this Harley. I can’t be the person you call for a good time. You haven’t spoken a word to me since Valentine’s Day, and now this is it? We just make out for a little bit and I have to pretend like I never felt like I was the one to do something wrong? I can’t do that.”

Harley pulled himself backwards, his hands pressed into the couch. His head was tilted just a little bit the the side, eye’s flickering back and forth as he thought.

“You literally gave me a present for Valentine’s Day, Peter, I wasn’t okay with that.”

Peter wanted to pull his hair out- he really did. He stood up and walked around the coffee table one hand tugging lightly at his hair while the other stayed at his hip.

“Why would you tell me that you were okay with me getting you something for Valentine’s Day if you’re going to be uncomfortable then. I asked you so I could avoid this. You even saw me give MJ, who is my ex-girlfriend, a present and Ned one. If you were not okay with it then why did you tell me to dazzle you?”

“Because I thought you’d buy me something. But you didn’t. Nobody has ever heard of Rosehill let alone sold pictures of it with headlines from the town’s news paper. You made that. I don’t want you treating me like I’m special.”

Harley also moved to stand, making his way closer to Peter. With every word he jabbed a finger in Peter’s direction, his voice getting louder as he continued. His face was patchy-red and Harley’s jaw was set tight.

“I don’t buy shit for anyone on Valentine’s Day, Harley. I made the Lego portrait of Ned and I, and MJ’s notebooks, I also painted Mr. Stark’s Mom, and crocheted Pepper a sweater, and May a blanket. Also I made Happy a little Happy Taxi keychain with working headlights. I don’t claim to buy anyone’s gifts. I do it all myself. So my bad for making you feel special for doing a two minute Google search and printing something out I’d thought you’d like. I spent months making gifts for everyone, except yours because I just didn’t know you well enough. I did what I could, but everything I gave was made by me.”

The room fell silent again. The teens stood face to face, just a few feet away from each other. Harley’s blue eyes were filled with anger and disbelief and Peter couldn’t help but feel hurt. They stood there, starring at each other for too long, breathing too heavily. The movie continued to play, casting different lights across the room and they all just seemed to fit too well.

“Okay,” Peter finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, “okay. I’m going home. I really cannot do this anymore, Harley. The ball is in your court now. Just- if you decide that we’re not going to be friends or whatever can you please not just ignore me at lunch? It’s awkward. Also it’s not fair to MJ or Ned. And please don’t tell anyone I make their gifts, I don’t want them buying me something out of guilt. I do it because it’s important to me. Other than that, if you want to stay out of my life or whatever you decide it’s fine. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I’m really sorry, Harley.”

With that Peter turned away from Harley. He hated that he was the one that was bringing things to an end. Is that even what this was? Peter gave Harley the choice, it doesn’t mean that Harley will choose to burn everything they’ve had to the ground, but he could. This could be it. No more friendship or laughing or kissing. It’d all be over. All because of a stupid picture and Peter’s need for attention. 

That’s all it was ever about. Attention. It had to have been. If he was being rational, then Harley’s silence wouldn’t have bothered him. Peter wouldn’t have met with Harley after school or during lunch. This was all Peter’s fault. He just liked the attention.

No. No. That wasn’t it. It couldn’t be. Peter liked Harley. He wanted a relationship with Harley. It’s not like he didn’t try waiting for him or communicating what he wanted. Peter tried to give Harley all the time he needed. It just wasn’t enough and now Harley has a choice. This wasn’t over a picture, or attention, it’s about Harley.

So Peter walked away. He made his way to the elevator where FRIDAY already had the doors opened and waiting for him. Harley just needed time, to figure out what he wants. That’s all this is. Time. It’s not an ending. It just feels final. 

Peter turns around and smiles at Harley, tipping his head forward. Harley is still all the way across the living room, just watching Peter walk out on him. The doors started to close when Harley finally, finally called out to him, making FRIDAY re-open the doors.

“I’m sorry for freaking out. I just thought you were trying to make me feel bad for not getting you anything.”

Peter sighed, “I don’t care if you get me anything, Harley. It’s my holiday, not yours. No one get me anything in return, it’s why I don’t say that I make the gifts. But I stand by what I said. I’m not doing this weird friends who make out thing anymore. I can’t be waiting around for weeks because you’re upset and wondering where things stand between us. You’re either in this or you aren’t. I can’t be another name on a list you work your way through because you’re bored.”

“Darling, you’ve never been another name on my list. I swear it.”

Harley made his way from around the couch and Peter stepped out of the elevator, but not enough to really be in the room. The both of them were saying their words a little too loudly, and it all felt like too much. 

Peter could feel the heat burning his eyes as he tried his best to to cry in front of Harley. His jaw ached from the feeling and everything in him said he should just leave. Cut his loses and leave. But Harley was here, pretty as ever, with his splotchy-red face and freckles. Peter just couldn’t convince himself to leave. 

“Cindy. Brad. Sarah. Ashley. Josh. Eric. Damion. Brittany. Jessica. Me. That’s a list, Harley. I tried to be okay with it, I swear. But there’s only so many times you can brush me off when I try to talk about it. You can’t tell me I’m more than just a name on a list when it’s all right there.”

Tears started to roll down Harley’s face first. Harley’s hands shook as he tried to wipe them away and Peter tried not to sob at the sight. Peter stayed where he stood and Harley moved forward into Peter’s space. He lifted his hands up to Peter’s face, thumbs on Peter’s cheeks and finger’s tangled in Peter’s hair. Harley cried as he held Peter, and Peter did his best not to lean into Harley.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I’m sorry that I’m scared and that I wouldn’t listen to you. I like you so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like this. I’ll do better. Please, honey, I don’t want to lose you.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. Tears streamed down his face as he let himself fall into Harley. He wrapped his arms around the taller boy, and Harley had one arm wrapped around Peter’s back and the other holding onto the back of his head. Peter was relieved to hear that Harley wanted him to stay. He just couldn’t imagine a life without Harley.

“We can be boyfriends, if that is also what you want Peter. I know I’d like that a lot. Just the two of us, no one else.  How’s that sound?” 

“Yeah, I like that, just the two of us, no one else.”

Harley tried to laugh as he held Peter, but it didn’t work out well. Instead the two just held each other as they cried. Finally releasing the emotions they held in during their fight, and instead of being left alone they got the comfort of each other’s arms.

The elevator closed. The movie played on. Peter finally got the one.

taglist: send an ask/dm to be added.

@peter-is-a-bean @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler @thecrazymarvelfan @bonjour-gays @thebestqueenoftheworld

[avengerscompound]

Catch and Release - 5

Catch and Release: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  3289

Rating:  E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ - Steve's Apartment

Warnings:  Smut (MMF, oral and vaginal sex, overstimulation)

Synopsis: When you overexert yourself on a mission with Steve and Bucky, the boys admit to having fantasies that involve you.  Fantasies that you share.  But with one Super Soldier needs intimacy and the other is still dealing with being touch starved, exploring those desires without anyone catching feelings is a little tricky.

Chapter 5: Lying in Wait

You knocked on the door to the apartment that Steve and Bucky shared.  They'd asked you around for dinner, which meant dinner and experimenting with their sexuality, and you were more than a little excited.  The dice game had gone over really well and for a couple of days after they would each come and tell you about what parts they liked the most.  You knew that they’d want to take it further and try more things.  Especially given Steve hadn’t technically gone ‘all the way’ with you.

You were very excited too.  This whole thing had not at all been what you’d expected.  The whole idea of a down and dirty three-way that was all about sex and just getting that release at the hands of the two super soldiers was definitely one that you’d visited alone a lot of times.  Somehow this was even better.  Steve and Bucky were such good friends, and this arrangement you’d come to was both exciting and safe all at once.  They might be finding out more about themselves, but this was your opportunity to find out more about yourself too.

Steve answered and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.  It was funny really, you’d seen him on and off all day, but that was Cap.  Steve was a whole different person in a lot of ways and so even though you’d only seen him half an hour ago, this was the first time you were seeing him all day.  “Come in,” he said as he held the door open for you.

“I bought wine.”  You said holding up the bottle of merlot you’d ‘stolen’ from Tony’s cellar. 

“Trying to get us drunk are you?”  He asked taking it from you.

You chuckled and followed through the apartment to the table.  Their place was a weird mix of old and new.  There was a blue velvet wingback couch sitting next to a black leather recliner that had speakers in the headrest.  An old cabinet style record player sat next to a large flat-screen TV and had a PS4 sitting on top of it.  A set of nesting tables sat in front of the couch and each one was littered with art supplies and Steve’s shield was propped up against the couch.

The walls were decorated with artwork of vintage motorcycles and photos of family and friends.  One entire wall was boxed shelving, and each shell was full of books and vinyls.  There was no clear theme to any of it.  A boxed set of Harry Potter novels sat next to books on military tactics.  The Wizard of Oz series was there in its entirety but each volume was sitting on a different shelf.  The Wizard of Oz was next to a book on guided meditation.  Ozma of Oz was beside some vintage Captain America comic books.

Bucky was in the kitchen cooking.  He had his hair pulled back and a floral apron on.  The kitchen itself was quite modern and clean compared to the living room.  The benchtops were black granite and the fittings were all brushed chrome.  Bucky smiled when he saw you and came over and kissed your cheek.  “Everything is nearly ready.”  He said.

“It smells so good,” you said.  “And you look amazing.”

He pinched your hip and went back to his cooking.  “Steve, did you put your shit away?”

“Yes,” Steve lied, going straight to the coffee tables and bundling up the art supplies.

“That means your shield too,” Bucky said.

“It’s away,” Steve said.  He shoved the drawings and pencils into one of the gaps on the bookshelf before grabbing his shield and shoving it into the hall cupboard.

You chuckled and took down some wine glasses.  “It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, I will never get over the fact that he’s the messy one.”

“He’s always been the messy one,” Bucky said.  “Drives me crazy.”

“Can I help at all?”  You asked as you poured out three glasses.

“There’s a salad in the fridge.  You think you can take it out to the table?”

The table was already partially set.  The plates and silverware were out, as was a loaf of crusty bread.  You took the salad out and by the time you were sitting with Steve and taking your first sip from your wine glass Bucky was bringing out a serving platter piled high with risotto.

“So,” you said, as you all started filling your plates.  “What shall we do tonight?”

“Oh, uh…”  Steve said, almost dropping his fork.  “We thought dinner and if you wanted we could watch a movie…”

“Really?  That’s what you want to do?”  You teased.

“He’s being polite because he doesn’t want you to feel pressured to do anything,” Bucky said.

“Oh, I know.”  You said playfully, putting your hand on Steve’s.

“I just want to make sure you know that your friendship is important to me too,” Steve said, giving your hand a squeeze.  “I don’t want to put the sex above that.”

Bucky smiled and leaned over the table and kissed him.  Not that you could blame him.  You could practically feel your heart swell up.  When Bucky sat back in his chair, Steve looked a little love-struck himself.

“Then we should hang out as friends sometime,” you said as everyone started eating.  “Like we used to.  But I am wearing really expensive lingerie and I’d really like to show you it.”

“And I would definitely like to see it,” Bucky said.

“We were talking about just…”  Steve stopped mid-sentence and froze like he had forgotten the word he was looking for.  “You know… normal.”

You and Bucky looked at each other and bit back laughter.  “Ah yes, normal threesome style, Stevie.  Just the way everyone who has threesomes does it.”

Steve looked at Bucky deadpan.  “You know what I mean.”

“Well, yeah.  I do ‘cause we talked about it before.”  Bucky teased.  “What he means is because part of this is him getting to do some things he hasn’t done before, we’d like to focus on you and it just be…”

“... vanilla guy on girl sex.”  You finished.

“That’s the one,” Bucky said tapping his forehead.

“Gonna run the train,” you said and took a sip of your wine.  “Nice.”

“Is that okay?”  Steve asked.

“More than.”  You said.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything,” Steve answered.

“And just to be clear here, I’m talking to Cap.  Not Steve.”  You added.

“Oh,” Steve said, his posture stiffening.  “What is it?” 

“No,” Bucky groaned.  “Don’t invoke the Captain in here.”

“Just for a second.  I promise.”  You said.  “What happens if the others find out about what we’re doing?”

Steve’s jaw tensed and twitched at the corners as he thought.  “I don’t think we should go around bragging about it,” he said.  “But this is our personal business  We aren’t breaking any rules.  If the find out, they find out.”

“Besides, if Tasha doesn’t already suspect, then I don’t think that’s Natasha and we better find out where the real Natasha is,” Bucky added.

You laughed and nodded.  “True.  You know if Tony finds out he’s going to give you hell for it.”

“What’s new?”  Steve said with a small shrug.  “Besides, like he can talk.”

“Also valid.”  You said.  “Alright.  I just wanted to make sure.  I agree.  I don’t want to go telling … well anyone, but like Bucky said, Nat figures this shit out, and I don’t want to be lying to our friends.”

Steve reached over and rubbed your arm.  “I would never ask you to do that.  You aren’t our dirty little secret.  You’re our friend.” 

“God, Steve.  Saying all the right things tonight.  I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”  You said.

“And I’ve got second,” Bucky added, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

The three of you finished up dinner and cleaned up together.  Steve had been right.  The three of you needed to nurture the friendship too.  This was how this started after all.

When the kitchen was practically sparkling Steve came up behind Bucky and wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his neck.  Bucky closed his eyes and hummed softly.  He held out his hand to you and you took it and let him pull you into his arms.

His eyes opened and he blinked slowly, as he gazed down at you.  “Ready, darlin’?”

You smiled up at him as Steve’s arm snaked around you and he pressed his large hand to the middle of your back.  “As I’ll ever be.”

Bucky leaned in and ghosted his lips over yours.  You reached up and tangled your hands in his hair and pulled him into a hungry kiss.  Steve kissed and nipped at Bucky’s throat as the two of you kissed and pulled you a little tighter against Bucky.  You could feel Bucky start to harden against you and you pulled back with a quiet gasp.

“Bedroom?”  He asked.

“Bedroom.”  You agreed and Bucky put an arm around each of you and the three of you made your way down to the bedroom.

The room was painted sage, with gray trim.  The floor to ceiling windows on the far side looked out over the East River and beyond that, Brooklyn.  There were more shelves against one wall, though they mostly held little knick-knacks.  Things like a signed baseball, a Build-a-Bear dressed as Captain America, and model spaceships - the kind you built yourself.  Next to it was an antique drafting table with more art supplies and sketches littering it.  There were framed prints on the one bare wall above the bed, each one held different black and white photographs of the New York skyline over the years.

The bed was a king and had been made.  A crocheted quilt in dark red and white lay folded in half at the foot over the gunmetal quilt.  The bedside table on the left was clean and neat with a digital alarm clock, a dock for a Stark phone a worn copy of Dune.  There was also a basket with condoms and lube, the same as you had set up when they’d come to your place.  You wondered if he’d decided to steal the idea from you.  You couldn’t imagine that they were still using protection like that with each other.  The bedside table on the right was a mess of water bottles, notebooks, dog eared novels, colognes, and random scraps of paper.

You looked around as you unzipped your dress.  Bucky and Steve began to undress too.  “I’ve never seen your room before.”

“So many firsts tonight,” Bucky said playfully.

“Your bed is big enough to fit us three and Thor too.” You said dropping your dress and revealing the black lace push up bra and thong you were wearing.

The two men looked you over like hungry wolves.  “Two super soldiers not enough for you,” Bucky teased, stalking over to you and hooking his arm around your waist.  “You gotta include a god too?”

“Hey, I’ve been single for ages.  Let me have my fantasies.”  You joked, as he pulled you to him and lifted you, carrying you to the bed and dropping you on the mattress.

You lay back and arched your back as both Steve and Bucky crawled up with you.  Both had taken their shirts and shoes off, but while Steve was down to his boxers, Bucky was still in his jeans.  “You’re giving us ours, if you want to share yours with us, we’ll see what we can do.”  Steve rumbled as he kissed your neck and collarbone.  His hand ran down between your breasts and over your stomach, making your skin break out in goosebumps.

Bucky kissed the other side of your neck and tangled his hand in your hair.  “Threesomes are the most common fantasy you know?”  You half moaned.  “And they’re more common to have the older you get.”

“How do you know this stuff?”  Steve asked as he moved his hand to your cunt and he slowly began to palm it.

You moaned pushing up against his hand.  “It was in a documentary.  You guys are over a hundred.  So bringing Thor in would be good for you.”

Steve snorted while Bucky broke down laughing.  “We’ll keep that in mind, dork.”  Bucky teased and kissed you.

As you kissed, Steve kissed lower.  He paused at your breasts and sucked and bit at your nipples through your bra.  You reached behind you and unhooked it Steve slid it down and pulled your nipple into his mouth.  Bucky joined him at your other breast and they both sucked and bit your breasts as Steve’s hand slipped into your panties and he started to finger your clit.  You moaned and squeezed your legs around his hand as you writhed under them.

Steve moved down lower, pushing your legs apart and pulling your panties down.  He nuzzled at your cunt and flattened his tongue running it up your folds.  You put your feet on his shoulders and pushed your hips up into his mouth.  Bucky’s hand caressed your throat as he continued to suck and bite at your beasts.

The sounds you made got louder and louder as Steve became more and more focused.  You could tell he hadn’t done this before, but the way he moved was almost like watching him in the field.  He’d stop and cock his head to the side while his tongue flicked over your clit or his fingers moved inside of you, when you moaned just the way he wanted, he’d focus on what he’d just done.

As they brought your apart with just their hands and mouths, they kept touching each other too.  Stroking each other’s backs or legs.  While you moaned and bucked, your orgasm right there on the brink, they held hands.

Steve corkscrewed his wrist and sucked hard on your clit and you came, arching hard up off the mattress and crying out.  “Fuck, yes!”

Steve sat up, a proud little smile on his glistening lips.  Bucky got up on his knees and kissed him hungrily.  You wrapped your legs around Steve and began to grind against his erection as you unfastened Bucky’s jeans.  Bucky pushed Steve’s boxers down and began to stroke his cock and Steve groaned into Bucky’s lips, his cock jumping in Bucky’s hand and leaking precum onto your pussy as you rubbed against him.

Bucky broke the kiss and began to nuzzle at Steve’s neck.  “You gonna fuck her, Stevie?” He whispered.

Steve groaned and grabbed your thighs.  “Yeah, Buck.  I want to.”

“She’s so wet and warm, Steve,” Bucky whispered as he grabbed a condom.  “You’re gonna really like it.”

Steve closed his eyes and caressed his fingers over your stomach and cunt.  You reached up and cradled his jaw as Bucky rolled the condom down over his shaft.  Steve looked down at you, his blue eyes blown out with lust.  With a snap of his hips, he sunk deep into you.

You both gasped and you arched back as he lifted your hips up to him.  Bucky kissed Steve again before leaning down and sucking on your breasts against.  His metal fingers went to your clit and rubbed it as Steve started to slowly rut his hips against you, each thrust accompanied by a roll, so it felt like he was touching every part of you.

You felt like a live wire.  All your nerves were raw and stimulated as they made you the center of attention.  Steve fucked you slow and deep, filling you completely.  You gripped his wrists and rolled your hips with him.  Pleasure swirled through, starting in your breasts and cunt and meeting in your core.  It pressed down on you and radiated out until it was all you knew and all you wanted to know.  Your core clenched and you came hard, bucking up under them.

Steve was far from close though.  He picked up his pace, fucking you harder and a little more erratically.  Bucky began to massage the base of his cock and balls while his thumb rubbed your clit.  He switched from one breast to the next, keeping you right on the edge as Steve fucked you.

Steve’s eyes stayed locked with yours and his jaw tensed.  You jerked up suddenly as another orgasm tore through you, and with a hard snap of his hips, he came.

Bucky sat back as you relaxed down panting and Steve slipped from within you.  “How’re you doing there, darlin’?”  He asked as he ran his hands up Steve’s chest.

Steve kissed Bucky’s neck and got up, removing his condom and tossing it out.  “Really good, Buck,” you hummed.  “You gonna fuck me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Bucky replied, grabbing one of the condoms and sheathing himself.  You sat up and stretched a little and Bucky sat opposite you.  You climbed into his lap and lowered yourself down onto his cock.   As you began to bounce on his cock Steve moved up behind you and sat with his legs on either side of you and Bucky.  He kissed your neck and ran his hands over the two of you.  Caressing skin.  Pinching nipples.  He rubbed your clit and massaged Bucky’s base.

You and Bucky kissed as you moved as one.  Your lips moved from lips to neck and back again and the sounds of your moans combined with each other’s and filled the room.

Sweat began to bead your skin as heat flowed through your veins, burning you up from the inside out.  Steve hardened against your back as you moved.  You began to feel fuzzy and high.  Steve’s fingers worked your clit as you bounced faster and faster.  It wasn’t long before you came again, and Bucky broke the kiss with a strained groan, gritting his teeth as he tried not to be dragged along with you.  It was no use though, his hips jerked and he came just after you.

You stayed joined, slowly rolling your hips as his cock emptied.  Steve ghosted his lips up the side of your neck and nipped at your earlobe.  “You up for more?”  He said in a soft growl.

“Mmm… I could go again.”  You hummed.

Three and a half hours the three of you spent switching from one to the other, the only break you got was to rehydrate.  By the time you called defeat you wondered if you were ever going to learn your lesson about trying to keep up with the two super soldiers.

You lay panting on the mattress as Bucky and Steve both lay back, the sweat running down their chests in rivulets.  You cunt ached and your legs felt weak. You had a vague feeling like you should get up and pee.  Get dressed.  Go home.  You didn’t think you’d even be able to get up.  You could barely even think straight.  It was all soft-focused.

You struggled up too sitting and blinked around the room.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”  Steve asked, putting his hand on your hip.

“Gotta go home,” you mumbled.

“You’re exhausted.  Just stay.”  Steve reassured you.

“Yeah, darlin’, you liked cuddling with us when we were camping,” Bucky added.

“If I sleepover, then they’ll know.”  You tried to reason.

Steve sat up and kissed your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist.  “So they know.  We’re adults, we can do what we want.  Now lie down, you’re exhausted.”

You let yourself collapse back down, unable to think of one possible argument.  They both wrapped you in their arms and you were asleep before the blanket was even pulled over you.

// NEXT

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December Contest Submission #12: Candles and Blankets

words: ca. 4,500 setting: mAU, candle shop AU lemon: not really cw: (SPOILER) fire, depression

Have you ever fallen in love with the gorgeous fiber artist across the street but she’s a really kind person and you aren’t sure if she’s into you or just being courteous, so you invite her to a romantic candlelit dinner for your own birthday in the back of your own candle shop?

Hey there.

My name is Anna, and …my life? Is pretty crazy.

I guess you could say the stars aligned for Elsa and I to meet.

It was a Tuesday.

New moon, new beginnings.

The sky was brightening with the dawn as I twisted my key around in the tricky lock. I really needed to call a locksmith soon, but I wasn’t sure if my business insurance covered new locks. Fires and floods, come at me; but an inconvenient lock… I probably wasn’t so lucky.

After a minute I finally heard the heavy click as my ears also noticed the sound of a car pulling up behind me. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, but instead of turning right around, I cautiously used the glass store windows to take a peek.

My shoulders relaxed. A blonde woman my age was behind the wheel.

I pretended to struggle even more with my key until I heard her get out of her vehicle. Then, I spun around with a smile on my face too bright for the hour.

“Good morning!” I greeted her. As she stepped into view to pay the meter, I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows. You would’ve done the same if the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen just parked in front of your candle shop at 6:30 AM in the middle of October.

“Hi,” she smiled gently. I’d never seen eyes such an icy blue give off so much warmth on a chilly fall morning. She glanced up at my sign, ‘Anna’s Awesome Aromas,’ and her smile brightened. “Oh! Do you sell candles here?”

A little confused how she parked right in front of a shop she didn’t know sold candles, but not one to judge, I answered, “Yes! I make them and sell them. In fact, I’m Anna herself.” I offered my hand out to shake.

She leaned forward to shake with a cold hand and then gestured across the street at the vacant shop building. “I’m here to look at the building for lease. Nice to meet you! My name is Elsa.”

“Elsa! Wow!” This woman was flawless right down to the name. “Wait, you’re looking into Kristoff’s old place? Sweet, what’s your business?”

“Oh,” she nervously reached a hand behind her neck. “I just make blankets.”

“Just? That’s amazing! Do you knit?” I wasn’t about to let this stranger downplay her talents.

“I, um, knit, crochet, quilt, design fleece patterns, and mess with a few other styles every once in a while.”

“Wow, so you can do everything! That is so cool, Elsa. Seriously.”

Her cheeks were turning magenta. “I still have a lot to learn. I’d love to see your candle shop!” She said, deflecting the attention from herself. “Maybe after the realtor and I do our walkthrough I could take a look inside?”

“Absolutely!” I nodded. “In fact, if you’re done around lunch time, come on in and I’ll share my lasagna with you in the back. I brought enough for a small army.”

The way she smiled at me, crinkling her eyes, before she turned and walked across the street had my insides feeling… cozy. Comfortable.

Safe.

——————————

That Christmas was the best I’d had in a long time. Elsa had set up her blanket shop in early November, and we became fast friends. I never ate another lunch alone - we alternated between her office and mine, always able to keep an eye on whichever shop was unattended across the street.

December was a busy sales month for us both, with lots of customers needing candles and blankets to warm themselves and their loved ones in the cold holiday season. For that reason, I cherished our lunches as the only time we had to get to know each other as new friends. We both worked long days keeping our shops running smoothly and churning out new products in our evenings, often late into the night.

Neither of us had any employees, even a business partner, let alone a life partner; so sharing lunch with a like-minded and equally hardworking woman was honestly life changing.

The week leading up to Christmas was so busy with last-minute-gift shoppers, we called off our lunches to keep our shops open every precious minute. In a stroke of luck, Christmas fell on a Sunday, so we both closed up shop for the whole weekend, giving ourselves a true holiday.

Naturally, we spent it together. After convincing her she wouldn’t be intruding, Elsa came over to my apartment on Christmas Eve and we relaxed all day with no talk of businesses. She spent the night on my couch and our Christmas Day was filled with lazy cooking and laughter.

She gifted me a beautiful tree skirt that she knit especially for me with stripes featuring all my favorite blankets she’d made. For Elsa, I made a candle with ten different layers, because she was always saying her favorite scent was my whole shop, with all my aromas melding together.

“I can’t believe we gave each other the same thing!” She had laughed.

“It’s perfect,” I was grinning wider than I had in years. “We’re perfect,” I wanted to add.

—————————————

It’s amazing how something as simple as having a friend can make time fly by. As winter melted into spring, both Elsa and I were entering our “off season,” as people no longer craved the warmth our products provided. Even so, the days didn’t drag on.

I still lunched with Elsa every day and we never ran out of things to talk about, from crazy customer stories, to new products we’ve tried to create, to old childhood memories. There was always more to learn about each other, even after I thought Elsa might know me better than I knew myself.

But then there was the concern: did she know me well enough to figure out I had an enormous, ever-growing crush on her? And did I know her well enough to figure out if she might feel the same?

That was my main source of anguish as the weather turned as warm as my three wick candles.

Every day I sat with Elsa as she ate her chicken caesar salads or Taco Bell (there was no in between), and I ate my peanut butter sandwiches, or Campbell’s soup. And every day I’d stare at her light shining hair and blushed cheeks, as she smiled sweetly and laughed at all my jokes with a sound more gorgeous than fucking wind chimes. And every day I could feel myself falling further.

I used to live and breathe for my candle shop; I woke up with a purpose to create new scents and gorgeous colors, experimenting with different types of wax. It was usually what I dreamed about.

Now… I was dreaming about Elsa. I was waking up excited, not about how many candles I might sell that day, but how many times I might make Elsa laugh during lunch. Will she flash me that look, the one where her eyes sparkle and the corner of her mouth smiles, making it look just for a second that she had glimpsed my soul - and liked what she saw?

I just didn’t know what to make of it, because Elsa was too nice. She seemed to interact with everyone the way she interacted with me. Granted, nobody else got to spend lunch with her everyday, or talk about our small businesses together, or drop by to visit on our rare days off. But how was I supposed to find out if she was romantically into me without risking everything good that had come into both of our lives?

It was June when I had the idea. My birthday was coming up the following month, so why not plan something special? Something …romantic? Then if there was anything to blossom between us, it would have the perfect environment to happen without forcing anything or asking potentially devastating questions.

Perfect!

It wasn’t hard to plan out once I had the idea. I chose the restaurant I’d be ordering out from, and easily convinced Elsa to come over to my shop after we both closed.

I was wearing my favorite green summer dress - the flowy one with pockets - and kept my hair down for a change. At the stroke of 7 I closed up and headed out to pick up the dinner and suddenly it hit me. Was it weird to plan and host my own birthday dinner? A birthday dinner for only me and the girl I was in love with?

Well, it was too fucking late, if so. I came back with the food and spent the next half hour setting up a table with nice place settings and lighting my sexiest scented candles all around my office and store. As the sun set, eight o’clock rolled around and Elsa closed up her shop, too.

As I watched her delicately make her way to my side of the street, I chewed my lip. Here goes… everything.

I came to my shop door to let her in as she approached my dimly lit building, and was stunned by how beautiful she looked. She was wearing a shiny blue sleeveless top and tight white capris, with heels to match her blouse and the kicker - a white bow tie hanging untied around her neck. Her wavy hair was gently bouncing around her shoulders with each step. I opened the door for her and the bell above jingled loudly.

She beamed when she saw me, stepping inside to set down her leather backpack purse and white gift bag to give me a big hug. “Happy birthday, Anna,” she said softly into my shoulder.

“Thanks, Els,” I squeezed back, breathing in her perfume. It was my favorite scent, one I’d never quite been able to replicate at home - something between the ocean breeze and a floral woodland meadow.

As we pulled apart I glanced down her outfit one more time, “You look incredible.”

“So do you! And well, you said to dress nice, so… that’s what I’ve got,” Elsa laughed nervously.

“It’s perfect. So!” I clapped my hands together, “Shall we head to the back?”

“After you, lovely,” Elsa grinned and picked up her two bags again. As we walked she began to notice the candlelit atmosphere. “This is really something, Anna. You went through all this trouble just for the two of us?”

I winced. This was a weird thing to do… Play it cool. “Oh, it wasn’t much trouble at all! I thought we deserved something nice. Something special.”

“We do! Especially you, Anna. You work so hard.”

“Not as hard as you,” I countered, as we stepped into my cozy office. My desk was in the corner by the window-wall facing out to the street, and in the front area by the couch we usually ate our lunches on, I had set up our small dining experience.

The only light was from all the candles I had placed around the room; a few were on the little table itself, which also held our take out dinner that I already plated up.

“Wow!” Elsa was standing wide-eyed behind me, a huge smile creeping onto her face. “This is — it’s incredible. Did you get Romeo’s?” She recognized the food from the local fancy Italian restaurant.

“Bone apple teeth!” I grinned. “Shall we eat, before it gets any colder?” I said, gesturing to a chair.

As we settled in to eat, my racing heart calmed a little. This felt right, it felt like us, sharing a meal like we did every day. Just… fancy.

“I’m thankful you got me Alfredo,” Elsa said a few minutes into our meal. “Or my white pants may never be the same.”

“Oh man!” I said with spaghetti hanging out my mouth, “That was a lucky guess. Imagine if I made you get tomato sauce on your pants!”

Elsa laughed. “I imagine I’ll be taking them off.”

“What?”

“Um, I said I imagine I would be taking them off. If I stained them.” A blush was forming on Elsa’s cheeks.

I felt my face warming too, wondering if Elsa had meant what she had first implied. Then, Elsa set her fork down and took a deep breath.

“No, you know what,” she said, looking me intensely in the eye. “You went out on a limb here with this dinner, and so will I. Anna, I really like you.”

Was I supposed to hear the blood rushing past my eardrums?

“Everything has been better since you came into my life - or since I came into yours, whichever way you want to think of it.” Elsa smiled sincerely, “I didn’t realize what was happening right away, but I’ve known for a while now that I’m just - just helplessly in love with you.” Her gaze shifted down to the table as she kept talking, “It’s hard to pretend that I can keep my cool around you when all I feel is the warmth of friendship, of …love. Of something deeper. Something I’ve never felt before, and I’d never want to feel with anyone who isn’t you.”

She cleared her throat and looked me in the eye once more, “So, if this dinner was your way of saying you might share some of those feelings for me too… first of all, at this point I fuckin hope it was; and secondly… that was it, I can’t remember…”

By the time Elsa had trailed off her words, I was next to her chair, cupping her face with my hands. “Can I kiss you?”

She touched one of my hands, holding it to her cheek as she stood up. Taking a step away from the table, Elsa slid her other hand behind my waist. There was a moment we just looked into each other’s eyes as the pull between us became stronger. “Please,” was all she whispered before our lips came together like the pages of a closing book.

I had never kissed anyone - I had… no idea it could be like this. Her lips were so soft as they moved with mine, and it felt like they were asking permission with each caress. A small tear escaped one of my closed eyes.

I felt so emotional as she ran her fingers through my hair, stroking my scalp. She - Elsa, she wanted me, too. She loved me, too. And I realized I hadn’t actually said that yet — I pulled away suddenly and watched her open her eyes in surprise.

“I love you, Elsa.”

She smiled in relief.

I rested my forehead against hers, standing on my tiptoes to reach. “I just wanted to make that clear.”

***

We did not finish our meal.

The folding chairs sat forgotten as I laid Elsa down on the nearby couch and straddled her hips as we both reached for clothes we no longer wished to wear. I took a second to be grateful for the partial wall that blocked the couch from the view of anyone passing by the shop’s windows.

Elsa tugged on one end of her bow tie and it slipped out from behind her neck in one fluid motion - probably the sexiest move I’ve ever seen.

As I lifted my dress above my head, Elsa was gazing up at me, hypnotized. I let the dress fall to the floor beside us. “You’re falling a bit behind, love.” All she had taken off was her tie, and I already sat in my under garments.

She reached for the bottom of her blouse. “One advantage to dresses I suppose,” Elsa said. “If you’re into that.” She sat up a little to whip the shirt off, exposing a black sports bra.

“God, how are you so hot?” I didn’t let Elsa answer before leaning down to kiss her again. I reverently felt her soft skin as I ran my palms over her sides and found the small of her back. “I’ve, er, never done this before.”

Elsa gave a slight squeeze to my hips. “Me neither. It’s ok. We can figure it out together, but I’m probably gonna need to take my pants off first.”

I laughed, “Alright, I’ll get up.” When I planted a foot on the floor and stood up, I paused. I took another breath through my nose. “What’s that smell…?”

Elsa looked at me. She sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”

I turned to the doorway leading into the hallway to the store. An orange glow far too bright made my heart drop and my stomach fill with dread.

“On second thought, keep your pants on.” I grabbed Elsa’s top, threw it at her, and grabbed my dress, pulling it on haphazardly. I ran to the doorway and stopped when I saw how big the fire was in my shop. It looked like everything was engulfed in flames. Nothing could be saved from there. Oh my god.

Pop!

Pop pop!

Candles on my shelves were exploding. Oh god oh god oh god.

“We gotta get outta here!” I slammed the office door shut to hold off the blazing heat of the main store’s fire, trapping us in my office. I ran to the wall of windows by my desk, grateful there was no second floor.

Elsa met me at the wall with her bags. “Can we send this through the windows?” She pointed at my filing cabinet.

Together we pushed the metal cabinet to the window wall and then heaved our combined body weight into it, sending it crashing through the panes. Shards of glass rained down on us, but only a few pieces were sharp enough to cut. The cabinet toppled over onto the pavement outside.

I pushed out a few extra pieces of glass to make way for us to squeeze through. After I got out I helped Elsa climb in her heels, over the filing cabinet out onto the sidewalk. Together we pulled it farther away from the building.

“You call 911 and stay back from here,” I yelled as I ran back to the broken glass. “I have to get a few more things.”

Elsa looked terrified as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and took more steps backward into the deserted street. Turning toward my shop, my hand shook as I reached forward, crouching through my broken window, back into my smoldering office.

The room was starting to fill with smoke and almost constant candle explosions could be heard through the wall. I decided the most important things to get out first were my computers. I grabbed my laptop and quickly unplugged everything from the desktop computer tower. I didn’t need the keyboard or monitor.

Stifling a cough, I crouched through the glass and carried the computers to the curb. As soon as they were down safely, I turned and ran back in.

I couldn’t help but cough this time. Soon the door holding back the inferno would bust - or maybe the shared wall would be engulfed first. Either way, I was running out of time. The air was so, so hot.

One of the candles across the room burst. A searing hot glass shard lodged itself in my arm, near my elbow. I screamed, brushing it away, and the scream turned quickly to more coughing and sputtering.

Through the attack on my lungs, I grabbed everything I could hold off my desk - my purse included, and made my way out as fast as I could.

As I climbed out onto the sidewalk, I felt the office door behind me blow out. In the split second I had, I hurled everything I was carrying as far out as I could and then threw myself to the side in an attempted barrel roll just as the fireball rolled out and licked at my heels.

I sputtered and coughed on the ground as Elsa sprinted over to me. She grabbed a flat piece of debris and swatted at the edge of my dress that had caught fire. Once it was out, she lifted me over her shoulder and took me over to her building where she had been taking the items I rescued from my office.

Setting me down gently, she kept my hand in hers. “They’re on their way.”

My coughing still wouldn’t let up but I couldn’t actually feel my aching lungs anymore, or even the searing gash in my arm, as I sat on the concrete, numbly watching my store go down in flames.

Watching everything I worked for burn away.

———————————————

I didn’t notice August.

They held me at the hospital for two days for the smoke inhalation, my burn wound, and other minor cuts. Then I was released and I sat in my apartment.

I didn’t have a job to go to. My work was gone.

The insurance claim was going to take 90-120 days to go through but they assured me I would be covered for the total loss. So I wouldn’t go into massive debt, but I still mourned. I had no business, no product, no motivation.

So I sat.

I threw out all the candles in my home.

Maybe it was anger, maybe it was guilt, but it most definitely was fear. I never wanted to see another candle again in my life. The destruction they caused - my own creations did this to me. My own negligence. My own lust.

I had also shut Elsa out.

I knew it wasn’t fair to her but I couldn’t even think about her without reliving the terror of the fire. I just couldn’t handle seeing her… so I said I needed space, I needed time to recover alone.

It’s been over a month though, and while the pain still hasn’t gone away, now loneliness has joined it in my torment.

I missed Elsa so much it hurt. And not even in the we-didn’t-even-get-to-have-sex way; I missed my friend.

A week into September, Elsa begged me to come to her apartment. She said she just needed to see I was ok, just needed to talk.

It wasn’t a hard decision with the way I felt like I was dying without her in my life. But I needed her to initiate it or my guilt never would’ve allowed me the opportunity. So I went.

I couldn’t bring myself to change out of the sweats I’d been wearing for at least a week, but I managed to put on deodorant. My hair was pulled into the cleanest messy bun I could muster. It would probably be the bags under my eyes that she would comment on first. The two main subjects of my dreams were now either nightmare fuel or guilt trips, so I had barely been sleeping.

The biggest surprise to me when I met her outside were the matching bags under Elsa’s eyes.

As I walked to her she met me halfway with a warm hug. I saw the look of mixed relief and concern on her face as she took in my appearance.

“Anna,” she whispered as she held me close.

I drew in a shaky breath. “Els,” my reply was like a reflex and I melted into her embrace. With a little sadness I noticed she wasn’t wearing her perfume, but everything else about the hug was all that I had been craving.

“Come on,” she led me into her apartment.

It wasn’t hard to tell I wasn’t doing ok, and neither was she for that matter, so the question was never brought up. Instead she made me tea and held me on the couch, murmuring soft things like, “I’ll keep you warm.”

When I was calm from the tea, Elsa went to get something from another room. She returned with the white gift bag from my birthday, though it might have been replaced with a new gift bag, given how pristine it still looked.

“I still want you to have this, Anna,” she said softly. “But first let me tell you about an idea I’ve had. I just want you to listen to it, no need to respond right away.”

I nodded.

She sat back down with me. Her voice never raised above a light trickling of a fountain as she spoke, “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been going through. But I do know what trauma feels like. So I have a clue about what you may be feeling toward what you used to do; what you used to love doing now feels painful. Maybe even terrifying…”

Elsa took my hand in hers. “I got this idea a couple weeks ago when I accidentally dropped my bottle of perfume into your gift bag.” She chuckled grimly. “It all spilled out and your present soaked it up.”

She reached down into the bag and turned her head to me, “Would you mind closing your eyes?”

I closed them.

With a soft whoosh, a thin, but nicely heavy blanket settled onto me. As I breathed through my nose, suddenly a wave of familiar comfort washed over me. Her perfume was scenting the whole blanket. I wanted to cry. “Elsa,” I whispered, my hands shaking.

She rubbed my leg through the fabric. “I know, sweetheart,” Elsa sat back into the couch, cuddled close to me and I kept my eyes closed as she continued to talk. “After that happened, I thought… nobody really does this. Creating scented oils just for the purpose of dripping onto fabric like blankets for an extra comforting experience. Like I know essential oils exist, but that’s just the beginning of the potential you would have if you, say… wanted to become my business partner, to create scent drops for my blankets…”

She trailed off and let that sit there with me to think about. I felt the same revelation she probably experienced coming up with the plan. “Elsa,” I said with my eyes still closed. “That’s brilliant. When I’m ready… I would love that.”

I felt her sigh with relief. “Can I see the blanket now?” I asked.

She sat upright, “Here let me hold it up for you to see. It might bring up some emotion. I swear I had no idea what was going to happen when I was making it…”

The blanket was lifted off of me. I slowly opened my eyes to see… a perfect image of my shop in all her glory, hand stitched and glowing softly yellow through the windows. Around the edges of the blanket were the words, “Anna’s Awesome Aromas,” repeated in a pattern. I sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said, gathering up the blanket. “It’s too soon, I shouldn’t hav—“

“Stop,” I said while tears dripped down my face. “It’s perfect,” I stood up and flung myself into her arms, making the blanket fall to the floor at our feet.

“You’re not upset?” she asked.

“I’m only upset that I shut you out for so long. I’m sorry,” I held her tight. “You are everything I need, how could I not see that?”

“It’s ok,” Elsa kissed my forehead. “Some things aren’t meant to be seen; they have to be felt, or smelled, maybe tasted.”

With a gentle kiss, she began my healing.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 114 prt 1

114

It snowed as they slept, a tangle of limbs. Lance fell asleep in the bath, Keith carrying him back to the bed where he stripped off the dirty quilt and roused Lance enough to coax him under the blankets. They’d woken some time before dawn, the sex slow, sleepy and sweet, before falling back to sleep holding each other. Waking the following morning, Lance was shaking with the cold. Keith tucking the blankets around him as he fetched their gear from outside. Everywhere was dyed white. The lights on in the main cabin, but it was too early to human. Keith grabbing up their things and darting back inside, it was fucking freezing out there, barely past dawn. Sleepily Lance called to him

“Babe?”

“I’m here”

He wasn’t about to wander off naked

“It’s cold”

“I know, I’m coming back to bed now”

“‘kay... miss you”

Lance was still cold when it came time actually get up. Keith running them a warm bath. His boyfriend clinging to him as he carried him into the bathroom. He liked Lance being clingy, but those fingers of his were no joke. Getting Lance into the bath, his boyfriend whined softly when Keith didn’t join him right away. Keith hadn’t had his coffee yet, the fact Lance wasn’t dropped was a birthday miracle. Maybe he was magically cured... Nah. That wasn’t going to happen over night

“It’s alright, babe. I’m going to grab us some clothes to wear”

“Mmm, okay... but don’t be too long”

Heading back into the bedroom, Keith dumped their things out on their bed, finding Lance had hidden his present to him under all their clothes. He didn’t want to open it. Not yet. Not until he was awake to function. It was hard to ignore though. Lance had really nice handwriting, his name on a little gift card signed from his boyfriend with a heart. Forcing himself to grab them something to wear, he came back to the bathroom with the gift still on his mind. In his absence Lance started dozing in the tub... looking adorable as he did, surrounded by the bubbles that came from the provided body wash.

Joining Lance led to bath sex... Lance’s skin smooth and oily from the bubble bath, his boyfriend whining softly at the hot water slipping inside of him, not that that stopped him. It was slow sex with plenty of kisses and Lance doing the hard work. It’d taken him three and a half weeks to be intimate with Lance again. He regretted not being ready sooner, especially in the wake of Lance’s breakdown, yet his boyfriend had calmed a lot since he’d started rubbing and touching his stomach more. They were being those kinds of parents, taking photos weekly as Lance’s stomach began to grow. Not that you could tell at the moment. The small amount of pudge still looked as if Lance had eaten too much, not that he was carrying a baby. He got what Lance meant about being physical, but he was also kind of glad they hadn’t rushed into immediately upon finding out they were expecting.

Lance was more awake after they’d had sex. His boyfriend dried his hair, then wanted to dry him down, peppering kisses to Keith’s scars. Lance never pushed on them, instead he seemed to know that some had stories Keith wanted forget. His kisses like he was trying to heal the hurt behind them. When they were dressed, and Lance had had his vitamin injection, Keith carried him to the main cabin seeing they’d left Lance’s boots their the previous night, Lance holding on for dear life as Keith’s pre-coffee clumsy was strong.

In the main cabin breakfast was underway. Pidge nursing her coffee as she sat at the dining table. Kosmo was already making a pest of himself as Hunk and Shay made breakfast, his dog lolling his head back to acknowledge their existence but the call of bacon was too strong. Matt and Rieva were in front of the fireplace. Shiro and Curtis cuddles up on the sofa. This was nice... nice, but Keith felt kind of left out seeing they were the last to arrive

“We thought about sending a rescue party to find you”

Lance climbed out of his hold, shivering as his feet touched the cold wood floors

“Totally my fault. Needed a bath to warm up... stupid snow”

Lance flashed their friends a smile. Keith feeling worse about things seeing it was fake... Keeping up appearances was hard and unfair. Shiro chuckled

“It’s a cold one. Matt and Rieva were straight in front of the fireplace. There’s coffee left for Keith”

Lance kissed his cheek

“Here that, babe, you better get some coffee in you while I put my boots back on”

“Can you two not be gross before breakfast?”

Keith rolled his eyes at Pidge. She was just jealous she wasn’t here with her partner. The thought sticking with him as Lance walked over to the fireplace. Pidge wasn’t dating anyone. He hoped she didn’t feel any less wanted there, because he wanted her there

“Leave Keith alone. He’s allowed to be gross in his birthday weekend”

Flipping Shiro off, Keith cautiously shuffled into the kitchen, Shay an angel as she passed him a cup of coffee, giggling at the happiness on his face

“Shiro already warned me I better have it ready”

“Babe, he’s as bad as Pidge when doesn’t have her”

Shay giggled at being called “babe”. Lance was right. Hunk and Shay were very well suited together. Taking his first mouthful of coffee, he found it lukewarm, meaning he could drain the whole cup. Hunk noticing

“There’s coffee next to the kettle. The milk’s in the fridge. It’s lactose free, Lance made sure to tell us repeatedly, as if we forget”

“Thanks, guys. You didn’t have to go to the effort”

Pidge snorted from the table

“Dude, you’re our friend. We do nice things for the people we actually like. Everyone else can go fuck themselves”

Matt and Shiro both called out in synch

“Language!”

The kind of timing that couldn’t be brought. Grumpily Pidge leaned back in her chair, cradling her coffee

“Blow me”

“Blow you what?”

Matt was the only one game enough to mess with her. Keith making for the coffee and the kettle, dying for another cup and this time hopefully warm. This wasn’t a bad way to spend a birthday at all... Not now he had caffeine starting to drive the blood out of his caffeine system.

Feeding Lance for the morning proved slightly difficult. Shay was in the kitchen, meaning he could go pouring blood into Lance’s morning shake. Instead he had to be covert. Making like he was putting away the milk, he hovered near the fridge, pouring out too much blood into the shake cup. He then had to use both hands and some very awkward body language to hide the contents as he added the shake powder. On a cold day it was probably better for Lance to have more blood than he needed, though he didn’t know if it’d make his boyfriend short the rest of their stay. Topping the shake up with water, he snapped the lid into place, shaking it as he carried it over to Lance who was sitting near the fire now he had his boots on. A normal person would be sweating from the heat

“Babe, food”

Lance eyed the shaker bottle with defeat. Matt shaking his head as the concoction

“I don’t think I want to ask”

“Have to hide breakfast somehow”

“Leave him alone to eat in peace”

“But, babe...”

“You finish that sentence, Matthew Holt, and I’ll put you out in the snow to pee like Kosmo”

Matt pouted at Rieva. Lance shooting Rieva a smile. Keith not jealous... He wasn’t. He simply needed more coffee

“Am I making pancakes?!”

Calling out from where he’d been frying eggs and bacon, Hunk laughed as they all called back “yes”. They really felt like a weird family... a weird family that he wasn’t sure he deserved.

With the baby, work and Lance, letting himself be distracted from his birthday blues was easier this year. Lance knew his past, knew not to push and when he needed that push. Shiro hadn’t pushed... Keith still feeling down about it especially between the ultrasound and the weekend, the feeling kind of like nothing good could possibly come from it and it was all going to be a big joke. That everyone was faking caring and there’d be no cabin. He felt dumb for doubting his friends... but some things were so ingrained that all the love in the world from his friends’ wasn’t going to magically break down those walls or heal the damage in an instant. All of these people being here for him scared him. He liked all of them... and they all liked him... he found a place here and he never wanted to lose it.

Settling down at the dining table with this cup of coffee, Pidge punched him in the arm

“What did I do now?”

“Birthday punches. Normally you punch the person however many times they are old, but I need more coffee for that”

“Thanks... I think?”

“You’re welcome. I’ve got your present in my bag. What did Lance give you?”

“I haven’t opened it yet...”

“Shit. I could have gotten in first... Guys, Keith hadn’t opened anyone’s present yet! He’s still fair game”

Was that a thing?

“Pidge, leave him alone. Besides, I booked the holiday!”

“You just want Keith all to yourself. I’m into your McClain!”

“He is my boyfriend!”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers”

“Merp!”

Pidge flipped Lance off. Curtis laughing at the pair of them

“With your compatibility, I am sure you would find Keith most agreeable to keep. Though he is more compatible with Lance. You’d both murder each other over the first cup of coffee for the day”

Pidge wrinkled her nose

“If I have to share my coffee like that, you can keep him”

Lance enthusiastically claiming him

“Done! He’s mine! But I left his present in his bag...”

He didn’t need presents... He didn’t need anything. Being here with them... he’d never had this like this...

“Guys... you don’t have to give me presents. You being here is enough”

Pidge raised an eyebrow

“Dude. It’s free stuff”

“I don’t need a lot”

She wasn’t backing down

“Shut up. You do too. Now drink your coffee birthday boy”

Breakfast was loud. There were discussions and firm plans put in place for a snowball fight, and something about maybe making snow men, Hunk bragging a little about his skills. Lance hadn’t taken the delicious scents as well as the others, his boyfriend slipping off to throw up, missing the second half of things before Keith went to check on him. Hunched over the toilet, Lance smiled at him weakly

“You shouldn’t be worrying on your birthday”

“I came to check you’re okay”

“Better... just letting the cabin air a bit before... nope... never mind”

Throwing up again, his boyfriend weakly gripped the toilet as he did. Keith hated seeing him like this, and he hated he couldn’t do anything about Lance’s morning sickness. Sitting himself down behind Lance, he wrapping his arm around him, rubbing the taunt muscles of his stomach

“I feel like I should apologise”

Lance hacked and spat, sounding throughly done as he did, before letting himself relax back against Keith

“You don’t need to. You’ve done nothing wrong”

“Still...”

“Nope. It’s your birthday. None of that”

“You’re being stubborn again”

“Because I’m okay. I feel better than I have in a while... other than this...”

“This is kind of my fault”

“It takes two to make a macaroon. You should be more worried about Pidge in a snow ball fight. She shows no mercy, even to her team”

“She did seem pretty keen”

“Personally I think she can’t wait to rain hell down on Matt”

“I can see that. Are you up for it?”

“Traipsing around in the cold? Ugh... maybe I’ll umpire”

“We need one?”

“You know Pidge will accuse Matt of cheating. This wasn’t supposed to... I mean... I didn’t think it’d snow so soon”

“It’s fine...”

“Mmmm... maybe. No one made a fuss, did they?”

“Nah. Shay’s the only one who doesn’t know human food doesn’t stay down”

“I really want to bring her in to sign a non-disclosure, but she deserves a life where she doesn’t have to fear the dark”

“I think she could handle it... Hunk wants to tell her”

“It’s not fair on him”

They both fell silent for a moment, Keith rubbing at Lance’s belly. This birthday was so weird. His next birthday he’d be father...

“Babe... I know birthdays aren’t the best for you, but I hope you still make some good memories of today”

“I already am... I... kind of feel weird having everyone together because of me”

“That’s because we all love you, silly. You deserve every happy moment”

“I don’t know about that”

“Then it’s a good thing that I do. You, Keith Kogane, are loved. Very much... I’m just sorry that I’m tired”

“Was last night too much?”

“Last night was perfect. So was this morning... and this morning again... you’re a total horn dog”

“I can’t help it... you’re so cute”

Lance blushed softly. Keith’s heart doing flips

“Should I be worried you’re going to gobble me up?”

“Maybe. But if you don’t want to... I mean...”

“I like having sex with you. Even if I did worry I was going to piss myself in your lap”

“Babe, I wouldn’t really... No. You need to feel safe with me”

“I do... last night was pretty close though”

“Let me know in future. I’d rather stop than hurt you”

“I know. I think maybe I’m done. My stomach feels like it’s settling”

“That’s good. I worried I put too much blood in your shake”

“You did, but it’s alright. I needed the energy boost”

“Should I be worrying about that?”

“Nah. I’m sleepy for all the right reasons... and the fucking snow”

Keith chuckled

“You’re so much like Mami. Her showing up bundled up like that”

“Mmm... I’m definitely a tropical vampire. It was hard to hide it all when Pidge and Hunk didn’t know. Hunk used to fret so much over how cold I was...”

“I’m fretting over how cold you are”

“Ahhh, but this is perfect weather for snuggling with the birthday boy, after he wins the snow fight”

“If you’re not...”

“Don’t you finish that. I’m your boyfriend, not your keeper. Have fun with our friends. I know how much you missed them. I’m not going to be lonely laughing at you guys”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. I’ll just borrow someone’s phone and take photos”

“You could borrow my camera”

Lance raised an eyebrow, Keith not sure why

“Your camera is your baby”

Oh... that was why

“It’s not like you’re going to drop it”

“I don’t want to risk breaking it”

“You won’t. I’ll set it up so all you have to do is point and shoot”

Lance groaned at him

“They’re going to awful compared to your skills”

“I’m not that skilled”

“Babe. Love of my life. Anger loaf and lover of Macaroon. You really are. I was totally thinking about getting you camera stuff for your birthday, and I mean, I know I remember stuff, but then they went off and started in talking in some weird language with exposure and angles and it was complicated”

“Not as complicated as legal jargon”

“Oh, that’s pretty up there... but give me a day in the courtroom over deciphering camera talk”

“That’s because you’re not used to it”

“Does that mean you’ll teach me?”

“If you want to learn”

Lance chuckled

“Not really. I’m happier watching you. Okay, let’s get off the floor. My butt’s going numb with the cold”

“We can’t have anything happening to that arse of yours. It’d be butt a tragedy”

Lance’s glare said he wasn’t amused, Keith on the hand thought himself funny. For two people so close, he couldn’t believe how calm Lance was taking things when compared to him losing it over finding Lance the perfect last minute gift. Next year he was going to be prepared.

*

Lance wasn’t imagining things. Shay kept looking at him like she wanted to say something, the looked away when their eyes met. They’d talked a little in the car, Shay asking how he’d been, the others must have told her he’d been, or more likely Hunk had turned to her upset over what had happened. Thanks to his life being flipped upside down again, he’d barely seen Shay as much as he used to. It sucked... and the snow really sucked.

Sitting on the veranda of the cabin, Lance watched the others playing in the snow. Keith hadn’t been keen, then had been ganged up on by Curtis and Shiro, his boyfriend tackled down and snow put down the back of his shirt. For all his yelling and complaining, Keith was laughing as hard at as everyone else. The air was still cool, but the snow had already begun to melt to slush. Kosmo was so confused to what to do, running after the balls of snow only to watch them disappear, or even worse for the poor doggo was when he thought he’d caught them onto find them vanishing like magic. He made his displeasure know as he barked, bounding around with everyone. This was how life should be. No shitty vampire “war”, and now worries. He truly hoped this would be the first in a long line of happy birthdays for his boyfriend. This time next year they’d be parents to a little Macaroon that really needed a better name.

Playing in the snow resulted in an early lunch. Lance skipping real food for a shake, the smells of breakfast still in the air, and he wanted to make an effort to keep something down. Lunch was less formal than breakfast, not that breakfast was formal. Deciding on snacks, they lounged around, Keith not keeping him warm as his boyfriend was damp from Shiro smooshing snow into his hair. Each time he went in for a hug, Lance sank back into the sofa wishing he had a blanket

“Lance, I have to ask, what’s with the shakes. You didn’t even have a proper breakfast?”

Shay finally spoke what was on her mind. Their friends all looking momentarily panicked

“I’m fine... just you know, dieting and stuff”

Shay giggled at him

“Dieting? If you diet any harder there’ll be. Nothing left of you”

“She’s right you know, you’re a twig”

Fucking Keith, Lance huffing

“I’m a manly twig. Are you’re cold. Stop trying to squish me with your coldness”

Keith laughed at him, laying back against him with that cold wet hair of his. All of them should have gone for hot showers and warm dry clothes

“You love me anyway”

“I do, but if you keep this up I might have to run away to Cuba until spring... I’m not made for cold weather”

Matt cackled at him. Stupid werewolves and their high body temperatures

“Dude, it’s not that cold. What are you going to be like when winter really sets in”

“I’m going to hibernate. Build myself a little Lance burrito and hibernate”

Keith kissed his cheek, ignoring Pidge pulling a face as he did

“Can I join in?”

“Not if you’re going to bring the cold with you. I should have grabbed my heat packs from the bag”

“Want me to grab them?”

Keith was too sweet

“Nah, just keep your frostbite to yourself. Honestly, the lot of you should have had showers and changed”

“Your age is showing, dad”

Pidge giggled at her comment. Lance sorely tempted to flip her off

“Someone’s gotta be the sane and reasonable one around here”

“As if you’re sane. I know you too well, Gremlin”

“Saner than you”

“Riiiight... I’m not the one who developed a macaroon fetish after getting out of hospital”

Lance bit down a laugh, relieved to know they didn’t suspect macaroon was a baby and not a dessert snack

“That’s right. You were in hospital. Hunk said it was an accident. Are you okay?”

Why was Shay bringing that up now?

“Yeah. I had a stomach bug and fainted. A whole lot of worry for nothing”

“Plus he’s been working in Platt...”

Hunk was trying to help, but how was he supposed to explain that? Especially when Shay looked so interested

“You’re a lawyer, right?”

[thiswasinevitableid]

42 or 20 with indruck! Can you tell I'm a sap?? ❤❤❤

I went with 20, since I’ve actually done a variation for 42 for Indruck before.

Prompt 20 from this list: My amazing partner just dumped me. Please come home with me for the holidays and pretend to be my partner.

“DUCK I NEED HELP!”

Duck’s used to his neighbor and friend entering his house without knocking. After all, he does much the same to him. But the panicked tone is enough to send him tumbling off the couch.

“Ow. What’s up, ‘Drid?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Indrid drops to the floor to check on him, and Duck waves his hand dismissively to show he’s fine, “I’m just, it’s, I realized another horrible part of Derrick dumping me.” 

Duck sits up, facing his friend as the thinner man continues, “The few times I spoke with my parents since I started dating him, I bragged about how wonderful he was. Goodness knows they’d criticized me enough for everything else, at the very least it felt nice to tell them my relationship was going well. And now I get to go home in a week for the holidays, without the wonderful boyfriend I told them all I had. It’s going to make everything worse.”

Duck nods sympathetically. He’d been the first person Indrid told about the break up, Derrick leaving him abruptly two weeks ago after revealing he’d been dating someone else at the same time until he could make up his mind about who would make the better.

He’d apparently said Indrid needed “too much work” to be the winning partner. Duck keeps hoping to run into the guy so he can give him a piece of his mind (and tell him to be glad it’s Duck, and not Aubrey, who’s confronting him because she is pissed). 

Indrid is weird, sure. He can be absentminded, messy, can leave sketches scattered across his floor for weeks. But he’s funny, thoughtful, and Duck has pictured him without clothes more than once, wondering what it would be like if it was him drawing the high, faintly cracked noises from him on the other side of the wall. 

But more than any of that Duck always gets a strange sense of belonging when he comes home in the evening and sees Indrid’s apartment lit beside his own, still dark one. Indrid is home, next door, and that means things will be okay. 

Duck would have given anything to be in Derricks place. 

“Duck, I need you to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Duck should have put some specifications on that statement.

“‘Drid, you full well I can’t lie well enough to pull that off. And ain’t they gonna notice I’m nothin’ like the guy you told ‘em about?”

“I kept everything vague to decrease the chances of them finding something to disapprove of. You won’t need to lie, Duck, please I’ll,” Indrid’s gaze darts around the room, his red glasses sitting on his forehead allowing Duck to enjoy the light brown of his eyes, “I’ll design your next tattoo for free, I’ll pay both our internet bills for a year, I’ll, ah, I’ll-”

“Whoah, whoah, ‘Drid, you ain't got to do anythin like that. We’re friends, we help each other out.”

“So you’ll do it?” Indrid bites the inside of his lip.

“How long would it be?”

“Five days, six if we hit bad weather coming back up here. That wouldn’t take you away from work too long, would it? Or do they expect the part time rangers to cover the holidays?”

“Nah, the center is closed on Christmas. And I’m pretty sure Juno wants a few extra hours anyway. I’ll ask to be sure, but think I oughta be able to get the time off.” He looks back at Indrid’s face. There are bags under his eyes, the result of the semester and graveyard shifts at a coffee shop. His strange, wide smile is tentatively trying to spread across his face. It’s the first time since the break up he’s looked hopeful. 

“Yeah, what the hell, can’t let my friend be lonesome for the holidays.”

Indrid makes a delighted noise, flapping his hands, “Thank you!” He throws his arms around Duck, and Duck returns the hug. Indrid loves his hugs (most people love Duck’s hugs, but Indrid’s opinion tends to take up the most space in his mind). 

He’s doing his friend a favor, and that makes the fact this is a terrible idea worth the risk. And hey, five days paling around with his friend in some fancy seaside town will be fun.

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

Juno: You know that’s a terrible idea, right?

Juno: Pretending to date Indrid is going to make for one heartbroken Duck and you know it.

Duck: It’ll be fine

Juno: How long have you had a crush on him again?

Duck: A year. And we stayed friends the whole time because I fucking knew when to keep it to myself. And I can keep keeping it to myself because his friendship means more to me than my fucking dick. 

Juno: ……..

Juno:...... Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you

Duck tosses the phone on the bed as he finishes packing his suitcase. Yes, he’s had a crush on Indrid for awhile. And yes, by the time he realized just how intense the crush was, Indrid was in a relationship that made him happy, and the strength of the crush was overwhelmed by the desire to not make Indrid’s life harder. So Duck kept those feelings to himself, focused on being Indrid’s friend, including putting in a good word on his behalf to their landlord so he could get the little studio apartment next to Duck’s one-bedroom. 

Who knows, maybe spending so much time in close proximity will get rid of the crush….

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

…………….Or it will make it ten times stronger Duck muses during his turn at the wheel. It’s the west coast, so there’s no snow, but rain patters on the windshield as they drive down I-5. Indrid is humming along with the playlist he put on, finishing up the last of the meal they grabbed from  Dairy Queen. He’s been intermittently hand feeding Duck fries so he can keep driving. 

He also does a thing where eagerly and licks the spoon while eating his Blizzard and Duck is afraid he might hit the guard rail if he doesn’t stop staring. 

“How did we meet?” Indrid asks somewhere near Sacramento. 

“Uh, think Dani introduced us, right?”

Indrid nods, “That’s what I thought. We’ll need to have our story straight, but it seems easiest just to describe our relationship as truthfully as possible.”

“You mean we ain’t tellin ‘em we me when I rescued you from an evil goat?”

Indrid “humphs” crossing his arms, “I did not expect to tackled at the petting zoo. But I appreciated the rescue all the same.”

“Thought Aubrey was gonna wet her pants laughin at you.” Duck giggles at the memory of Indrid flat on his back with an extremely hungry goat on top of him.

They run through increasingly ridiculous things to tell Indrids family; that they met on a botched bank robbery, they got trapped in an elevator together, their characters fell in love during a game of D&D and it spread out into their real lives, and so on until Indrid is doubled over with laughter. It would be so easy, feel so natural to reach over and squeeze his hand or stroke his face as they both come down from their giggling fits, but Duck knows better than to trap his friend in a car with unwanted affection.

By the time they reach Carmel, it’s well after ten at night. Indrid drives the last leg, explaining that the house numbers can be tricky to see. They arrive at a stately three story house four blocks from the beach.

“Right.” Indrid sits in the front seat, key in his hand but showing no desire to reach for the door, “here goes nothing.”

They carry their bags up to the house, which is all dark save for the porch light. Once they’re inside, Indrid slips off his shoes, Duck following suit and immediately spotting why.

“Who has this much white carpet?”

“My parents.” Indrid grumbles. 

They tiptoe towards the stairs, and in spite of the fact they’re expected guests, Duck feels like they’re teenagers slipping in after curfew. The bedroom Indrid leads them to is bland.

“My, they really did take it all down.” Indrid sighs, setting his suitcase on the floor.

“This was your room?”

“Yes. I wonder what they did with all the art and posters. I liked a lot of them. And I’d lay money that all of Brad’s sports awards are still up somewhere. They always preferred those to my art.” He sighs as he changes into his pajamas, then slides under the floral bedspread. 

Duck didn’t bring pajamas. He just sleeps in his boxers.

“Um” He points at himself in an attempt to indicate the problem. Indrid goes completely still, looking him up and down.

“It’s alright, Duck. That doesn’t bother me. Come on” he pats the mattress, flipping back the covers, “I’m cold and you’re a spaceheater disguised as a man.”

Duck snorts,settles beside him, “No, you’re just an icicle that got an art degree.”

Indrid barks out a laugh, sets his glasses on the bedside table “Touche. Goodnight, Duck.”

“Night, Drid.”

The light goes out and Duck nestles under the covers. Should he roll over so his back is to Indrid? No, that might seem like he’s hiding something. But rolling towards him could be too much, seem like this is real instead of a trick they’re playing.

“Duck?” Indrid whispers.

“Yeah?” He rolls over, finds Indrid on his side facing him. 

“Thank you. For coming with me. The, the next few days may be a bit awkward.”

“‘Drid, I wasn’t expectin anythin else. Not after eveythin you told me about your folks.”

“I know but, well.” Indrid takes his hand, toying with his fingers, “I’m sorry in  advance for anything they say.  Or do. Or imply. Or-”

“‘Drid.” Duck takes their joined hands, holds them against his chest, “You ain’t gotta apologize to me for shit they might do. I knew what I was gettin into when I agreed to this.”

“Thank you.” Indrid says again. He looks so tired. 

“Go to sleep, icicle.”

Indrid smiles in the darkness, and shuts his eyes. He keeps his hand in Ducks, humming softly when Duck pulls the larger quilt over them. Their hands stay linked as Duck sinks into the pillows and a deep sleep. 

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

Indrid towels himself off absentmindedly, eyeing the china-shop decor of his once lovely room. Duck volunteered to venture downstairs in search of coffee for them (Indrid trusts three people to make his coffee sweet enough: himself, his friend Barclay, and Duck). Indrid woke up first this morning, found Ducks head resting against his shoulder. He took his time studying the lines of his face, wondering if Duck would let Indrid draw him. Ideally, nude. 

Maybe asking his friend who he has a raging crush on to join him on his trip was a bad idea. 

He’d realized his feelings for Duck about four months ago. But he was happy with Derrick (well, until the last two months before the break-up, when he’d suddenly gone cold around Indrid), and knew it was common to get crushes on people even when dating someone. Besides, he and Duck were close friends; Duck made him feel safe, didn’t judge him for his quirks, was funny and charming in his own quiet way. So what if he occasionally pictured him while masturbating, imagining what it felt like to kiss him on every inch of his body?

There’d been a temptation to ask Duck out in the days after the break up. But his friend would no doubt assume Indrid was treating him as a rebound, and Duck deserved to feel truly wanted. Now it might be too late. 

The door swings open and Duck shuts it quickly behind him.

“This is a fuckin labyrinth.”

Indrid chuckles, “Couldn’t find the kitchen?”

“No! Thank fuck we got a bathroom attached to this place or I;d go to take a piss and you’d never fuckin see me again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you don’t need to worry about a Minotaur unless my brother is up.”

A silver bell rings and blinks, “Does your family use a fuckin dinner bell?”

“Yes.” Indrid finishes dressing as Duck checks his hair in the mirror, “and it means it’s time to face the family.” He holds out his hand, “stay close; I’d hate to lose you in the maze.” 

Duck hesitates, then grabs his hand, and they head downstairs. 

His parents and brother beat them there.

“Is that really what you’re wearing out today?” His mother asks when they appear. 

“Hello to you as well.” He and Duck sit side by side, and he only relinquishes Ducks hand in order to pass dishes. 

“So,” His father eyes Duck, the scrutiny in the gaze making Indrid wince automatically, “you’re Indrid’s boyfriend.”

“Yep. Name’s Duck, and it’s real nice to meet y’all.”

Brad, his brother, snorts, “Duck?”

“It’s a nickname, oh, thanks darlin.” He smiles when Indrid hands him a cup of coffee. 

“Indrid says you’re interested in...environmental science, yes?” His father continues. 

“More or less. Done a lot of work in forestry and botany and such. Goal is to be a full time ranger in a national park or somethin.”

“I don’t know why we even have those; why the fuck are we preserving a bunch of trees when that land could help enrich the economy.”

“Shut up, Brad.” Indrid glares. 

“Indrid, manners. Besides, your brother has a point. All that land could be a boon for mining and development,”

“With all due respect, uh, Mr.Cold, public lands are one of the best ideas we’ve had as a country. And they bring in lots of money to places that wouldn’t get it otherwise. Hell, back home in Kepler, most of the money comes from tourists visitin the national forest.” Duck chews his eggs thoughtfully, “Plus, screwin nature only comes back to bite us in the end.”

“At least it’s a degree that has a potential job that comes after it.” His mother stares pointedly at him and Indrid groans.

The rest of breakfast goes much the same, and Indrid pulls Duck from the table as soon as he’s done eating. 

“Right, that was awful.” Indrid sinks onto his bed. 

“And you didn’t eat anythin.”

“I had toast.” Indrid snips back. 

“One piece. Come on, darlin, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my sweetheart starve?” Duck catches the pet names this time, coughs, “sorry, figured better to keep up the game in the house, in case someone can hear us.”

Right, of course. Duck’s being practical. He doesn’t really think of Indrid as his darling. 

“There somewhere in town you like?” Duck settles beside him, voice gentle, “It’s okay if there ain’t. Can even brave the labyrinth and grab you leftovers if you need me to.”

Indrid meets his eyes, and gingerly rests his head on his shoulder, “Well, there is one place…”

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

The outdoor mall is obscenely cheery, Christmas trees covered in shiny baubles and carols blasting from storefronts. Signs tout the perfect gift for that special someone, and Duck imagines himself wandering from salesperson to salesperson until he finds the thing that could show Indrid just how much he cares about him.

After a leisurely breakfast in a tiny, scruffy cafe (indeed, the only scruffy store amidst the pristine, wealth soaked chains and boutiques) in which Indrid scarfed two cinnamon rolls the size of his head, they wander arm in arm, window shopping and people watching. Indrid relaxes incrementally, and keeps casting strange, affectionate glances Ducks way. 

In spite of the chilly weather, they opt to go to the beach, finding it mostly deserted. Indrid shows him a patch of tidepools, and proceeds to ask a dozen questions about what he’s seeing. Duck does his best, though ocean life isn’t his specialty. 

“Oooh, hello little friend.” Indrid is on his stomach, leaning over one of the pools with a hermit crab in his hand, “your shell is so pretty.”

“Uh, ‘Drid, you might wanna keep an eye on that-”

Splash

“Wave.” Duck tries not to laugh at his friend, who now looks like a surprised, damp cat. 

“Oh dear.” Indrid looks at his soaked top half and shudders, “that is going to be unpleasant to walk home in.” 

“Here, take those off.” Duck unzips and doffs his jacket, unbuttons his green shirt and hands it to the taller man, “That oughta help until we get back.”

Indrid, skinny and shivering, takes the shirt and slips it on. His fingers fumble and Duck steps forward and begins buttoning it for him. 

“You don’t-” Indrid starts

“I want to” Duck finishes. When he buttons the last one, he looks up and finds their noses nearly brushing. 

“We should head back.” Indrid murmurs.

“Yeah.” Duck drops his gaze, taking a step back, “lead the way, darlin.”

Indrid hops off the rock onto the sand, offering his hand to Duck so he can do the same. Duck supposes they don’t need to hold hands on the empty beach. 

They end up holding them all the way back to the house. 

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

It all comes to a head at dinner the next night. 

“This is low even for you, bro.” Brad grins.

Indrid rolls his eyes, “What is?”

“Bringing a fake boyfriend because your skinny ass got dumped.”

The little bit Indrid’s eaten threatens to come back up. Duck is still, save for the chewing on the inside of his lip.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Indrid responds coolly. 

“Friend of a friend on Insta said in a group text that he knows your ex.” Brad looks over at their mother, “Apparently Indrid is too stupid to know when he’s being strung along, and too much of a dud to actually keep the guy.”

“In that case” His father turns to Duck, “how did you end up involved in this?”

“Probably paid him.” Brad sips his beer and Indrid growls. 

“Actually” Duck says quietly, “I came because Indrid asked me to. Couldn’t say no to the most amazin guy I know. Indrid’s perfect and Derrick was shitty to him. Just cause we ain’t had time to put a label on things don’t mean I ain’t crazy about him. And for your information” he stares down Brad, “that ‘skinny ass’ is the nicest lookin ass on the entire coast, and you are the shittiest siblin’ I’ve ever had the displeasure of meetin’.”

“How dare you?” His mother hisses and Indrid takes that opportunity to bolt, certain Duck will follow him. As he’s halfway up the stairs he hears Duck drawl, “Mom always said money can’t buy class. Thanks for the real-time demonstration.”

By the time his friend enters the bedroom, Indrid is huddled on the bed, trying not to cry. 

“Shit, ‘Drid, I’m sorry, that was outta line of me but I can’t, I couldn’t sit there and let ‘em talk to you like that. I know you got your reasons for not speakin up, but you don’t deserve to have no one takin your side.”

“It’s not that. I can’t, Duck, how could you say those things knowing full well we aren’t together? Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to believe you feel that way about me? That’s the most loved I’ve felt in months and I know it was a lie.” He buries his face in his hands, glasses denting his skin. 

“Hey, goofus.” Duck nudges him until he looks up, “you’re forgettin the part where I can’t lie.”

The gears of the world grind to a halt, and in a frozen moment in time Indrid processes a dozen realizations at once.

“You do like me.” He whispers. 

“No shit, darlin. Indrid, I’ve been into you for months, but I didn’t wanna push you away by tellin you and makin’ you uncomfortable. I meant every goddamn word, and that all barely scratches the surface of how bad I want youMOphhhm.”

Kissing Duck is a hundred times better than he ever imagined, the two of them tangled up before they even fall fully backwards. Warm fingers tangle in his hair and Duck whimpers beneath him, arching frantically into Indrids touch.

“Fuck me.” Duck pants when Indrid lets him breathe. 

“Not here. I, I think we should go somewhere else, leave early. They don’t want me here, not really, we could go home, rent a hotel room, anything, Duck, goodness please let’s get out of here.”

“It was an exclamation goofus, this room is a boner killer if there ever was one. But yeah, gettin gone sounds real fuckin good to me. I’ll let you take the lead, sugar.”

“You promise?”

Duck kisses his nose, “Wherever you wanna go, darlin. I’ll be right there next to you. I promise.”

[notsosecretspy]

The Kids Aren’t Alright pt. II

****************

Hello guys, gals, and non-binary pals! This is part two of my 2015 fan fiction. So be prepared again for some throwback 2015 fan fiction style. If you enjoy the nostalgia, like it currently, or find it humorously bad, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings:, cringe writing, talk of past child abuse, talk of child neglect, cursing, talks of PTSD and schizophrenia, slight misogyny (seriously what was going on with past me?)

Word Count: 1,500

*****************

The Start of a New Life

“Hello Mr. Holmes. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, using the most polite voice I had.

“Likewise.” His cold eyes squint and a forced, toothless grin and an outstretched hand is what meets me. I return my own and give a curt handshake. His look made me feel like I was a specimen, like I was some sort of puzzle that he was trying to figure out. It actually makes me slightly uncomfortable, I hope he isn’t always going to be this weird all the time.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, after checking out your profile you are clear for the adoption,” Mrs. Shanon drops smoothly as she hands him the forms. I wonder how she could say it so casually as if she was repeating her grocery list and not as if she didn’t just say something that would be so monumentally life changing to me.

I could feel my mouth go slack a bit as I glimpse towards the forms and see I’ll be living at 221B Baker Street. Although my jaw doesn’t tense I could feel the effort go immediately into trying to reign in my thoughts. Already? I just met the guy. This is a really exciting opportunity. We should just at least try it out, right? How do they know that he won’t try and hurt me? Remember what our therapist said, not everyone is trying to hurt us and you have to be willing to trust some people at least a little bit. Can he really pay for all my medicine? I really have a lot. Did you see his coat and suit? He doesn’t seem to be short on money. Deep breath, and take a leap of faith on him.

“Go get your things, Josie.”

I didn’t say anything but simply nodded my head and walked out of the room. The steps that I never really took much notice seemed to creak extra loud to me, like they wanted me to stay. When I reached the top and looked at the hall, it had apparently grown in length since I last treaded upon it as I walked towards my room. Taking a breath as I looked at my room, my home, for the last time, I continued my leap of faith and walked towards my wardrobe. I always thought I had more than I did, and opened the simple two drawers and realized that I didn’t have a lot. Besides my clothes on me, I had my uniform, an extra pair of pants, socks, and an extra tank top. Hopefully since he seems to have a good amount of money I could get some more clothes so I wouldn’t have to wash mine as much. Also in my drawer was a backpack Mrs. Shanon gave me from Thailand, and my phone and computer as well as their coordinating chargers, a quilt I had sewn when I was little, and a teddy bear that I won at a fair Mrs. Shanon took me too.

Mrs. Shanon took care of us like we were her own kids, when we were new at least, then she forgets us and moves on to the next one. I haven’t done much with her since I was like 7 but she was still like my family. But, maybe this time they’ll be a bit more fair to me. So, with nothing left to distract myself with, I put all of it in my backpack and grabbed my violin that I had a friend that had painted it to look like Starry Night, and headed down to the office.

When I come back down I see Mr. Holmes standing outside the room and is fervorously typing something on his phone, so I walk back into the room with Mrs. Shanon instead.

“Goodbye Josie, I hope you have fun in your wonderful new home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Shanon,” I say while tightening my arms around her. Tears pricked my eyes unexpectedly as she let go. She gives me a crooked smile, one who is not wanting to say goodbye just yet and so she gives me the traditional £50 that she gave everyone and folds her arms into herself.

“You’re welcome Jose. Now go on,’ she says with a nod of her head, ‘Go enjoy your new life.” Giving her one last squeeze I exit the door to a now unoccupied Sherlock and we start walking towards Baker Street who had gently reached out a hand to take my violin from my hands, which I gratefully did.

The walk on the busy pavement is oddly quiet and not at all what I expected from my first time with my adopted parents. Though, I feel like his eyes seem to be baring into me.“So, um, should we play 20 questions or something?”

“I don’t know. Is that what people usually do?” He replies while turning to me briefly.

“I guess I don’t really know. But anyways, I can tell you were kind of uncomfortable with having to be professional or whatever, so you can feel free to be yourself now and drop the entire act thing,” I feel my face heat and throw a look towards him, only to see him have a quick flash of surprise or maybe curiosity. “So, how much do you know about me? I can tell you’re curious and I’m really not sure how extensive my file is. Maybe we should play the game and get to know each other a bit more. But, I also guess that you can probably read me in a similar way I’ve been observing you so you might know more than me.”

“So you are a clever one,” Sherlock smirks and finally turns some more attention towards me. “Well Josephine, I have a few things that I’ve deduced about you and from the file. By your unconscious behavior I would think that you were abused as a child from some scars that are visible and I am guessing there are more on your back from the way you layer your clothes, there are more layers on the places you want to hide the most. Also you have post traumatic stress disorder and schizophrenia from your meds that I am paying for, Zyprexa and Fanapt. Also you are a talented musician, you are able to play the piano and violin from the calluses and shape of your fingers. Also, from the graphite on the side of your hand I can guess that you are an artist and choose pencil drawings as your medium. Should I go on?”

What the fuck man? Why did he have to bring that stuff up since I still barely know him? “Um, no, thanks. You ,show off, can calm down a bit.” I try to give a short laugh despite my discomfort. I see him casually roll his eyes, “So, what can you deduce about me?”

I take an elongated breath in, “Well,” I say mimicking his voice though I’m still a bit shaken, “I can observe from you that you play the violin as well from the mark underneath your chin and your chapped fingers. You probably practice quite often with how prominent they are on your skin. I assume you also live with someone in your flat, you don’t seem the type to live in a house and seem to also want at least someone around so you aren’t alone. My guess that it might be a man in the flat at 221B Baker Street, since I’d assume if you did live with a girl you’d want them to come with us to make me feel more comfortable with going to live with you. But, moving on, I think you are a detective but not really, since you seem to be more intelligent than necessary for police work, but my guess is that you at least still work with them since you have that badge shape in your pocket. Also,you don’t seem to live in the presence of children at all since you are clearly a bit unsure how to be in mine. By your lack of clear occupation on the form I’d guess you have a sibling or similar person who is higher up in some sort of authority where you get a small income of money from since you still have your flat. And from your slight twitching in your fingers I’d guess that you have or had some sort of addiction... Shall I go on?”

He gives a light laugh and with amusement in his eyes gives me a look. “No you’ve done quite well. And, it’s a brother that I have. He’s my only sibling.”

I simply give a grin and nod my head. Before I knew it we were turning towards the door of the flat. He produces a key from his pocket and turns the golden knob. We walk up a set of stairs and open a sturdy wooden door.

“Hello John. I’m here with the girl.”

[hymn2000]

Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player - MCU AU Fanfic - C16

(Previously Ideal Confusion)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, family conflict, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 16 - Together Going Down

-

Loki released Tony and moved off him, sitting back on his heels. Tony slowly sat up, and shoved Loki hard in the chest, catching him off guard.

“...Ok, maybe I deserved that” Loki said. “But I stand by my decision”

Tony didn’t say anything, but the tears in his eyes said more than enough. He went and sat at the end of the bed, keeping his eyes down.

“...Tony?”

There was another sound, and Loki saw that Peter had started crying too. Loki carefully got to his feet.

“Hey” he said softly. “Don’t you start”

Peter couldn’t help it. He could never deal with seeing people he loved cry, especially his parents - even when he was cross with them. So, seeing Tony cry was bound to have a knock-on effect.

“Tony, come on. It’s not that big a deal. Is it?”

Tony didn’t look at him. Loki reached out to touch him, but stopped, looking at Peter. He looked between the two of them, not knowing who to go to, not quite knowing who needed him more. He couldn’t help being reminded of that Pingu gif Peter had gone through a stage of sending him regularly, where he couldn’t decide between the phone and the kettle, and just sat down and started crying. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to do the same.

“This isn’t a crying matter” Loki said uncertainly. “Come on”

He swallowed hard and went to Peter, picking him up.

“Here, come and give your dad a cuddle” he said, and went to put him down on Tony’s lap.

“No!” Peter squeaked, struggling away, very nearly falling over when he landed on his feet. “Why would I want to hug him after what he did?! I don’t want anything to do with him!”

Peter was out of the room before Loki could even blink.

“Oh...”

Loki almost ran after him. But then he looked at Tony, saw how he’d started crying more, and he sat down heavily and wound his arms round his husband. He felt bad not for running after Peter, but he couldn’t really be in two places at once. Besides, legally, he’d made more promises to Tony when he married him. Thinking it didn’t help much, but he had to justify his decision somehow.

-

Loki looked at the boy curled up on the laundry room sofa.

“I must admit, this is the last place I expected to find you” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’d just given up searching. You weren’t in the poolside store so I thought you’d gone out”

“You didn’t tell dad, did you?”

“No, I thought I’d spare you that one” Loki said. “He’s taking a bit of time out. I was just going to swap the washing over”

“Do you need a hand?”

“You can double check the pockets on the dark’s for me, if you like”

Peter nodded, slowly getting up. He knelt on the floor, doing his task absentmindedly, watching Loki move a set from the washing machine to the tumble dryer. He watched him setting up the washing machine for the next load, scooping laundry powder and measuring out fabric conditioner.

“... There’s nothing in the pockets” 

“Good. Here, you can help me get it into the machine”

Peter held the basket while Loki put everything in the machine.

“Thank you. Stick the basket over there”

Peter did, and then he went back to the sofa and curled up again. Loki followed, turning to the kitchenette and turning the kettle on. He got a couple of mugs down from the cupboard and put a tea bag in each.

“I only cried because he did. I hope you know that” Peter said. 

“I know” Loki said. “You’ve never been good at keeping your eyes dry when ours aren’t”

“I don’t really care that everyone’s gonna know now. They never would’ve if you hadn’t called Marco. I don’t think dad would’ve ever told”

“He would have done eventually” Loki said. “But eventually wasn’t soon enough”

“If it were the other way round, what would you have done?”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, pouring water into the mugs.

“I mean, if you were my real- um, my bio dad...”

“I see”

Peter swallowed, watching him for a moment before turning away. “You would have announced it straight away. Well. After you’d let it sink in”

“Maybe” Loki said, sitting down beside him and handing him a mug. “But perhaps not. I’m not too big a fan of the press, and we all know that”

“Mm, I guess so”

“Why here, chick?”

Peter shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t want to be found just yet”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Peter shook his head slightly. “No; I’m quite glad you’re here”

Loki put an arm round the boys shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Sorry about what you had to see”

“I’ve seen worse” Peter said. “It was kinda good to see you properly standing up to him. He had it coming”

Loki laughed slightly. “Well, perhaps. Your father is nothing if not a challenge”

“I’m used to seeing you two wrestle anyway”

“Well, yes, but usually in fun”

“I didn’t think he’d cry”

“It was frustration more than anything else, I think” Loki said. “He’ll be fine. He’s getting it all out of his system”

“Mm” Peter looked down into his mug. “I don’t think your plan is gonna work. I don’t think I want it to work”

“Don’t be silly, Peter” Loki sighed. “I know you’re upset with him, and that’s understandable, but I don’t for a second believe that you’re ready to just cut him off. You want to be back being his best little friend, I know that”

Peter had to admit Loki was right. “It just doesn’t feel like it’s gonna happen. I wish we could just get on all the time. Or at least most of the time. He’s been all weird for a while now. Hot and cold, y’know?”

“I know. I think he’s a bit poorly, but he’s seeing someone to try to smooth things out. None of this is going to be plain sailing, but it will get better”

“You always sound so sure when you say that”

“Well, I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Peter looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Yeah, always”

“Exactly” Loki said, squeezing his shoulder. “So don’t you go worrying your pretty little head about it”

-

It felt strange going back upstairs after being in the laundry room for so long. Peter didn’t want to leave, but Loki had insisted, so he had no choice.

Peter stayed under Loki’s arm as they sat in the living room, taking note of the weight of his arm and the feeling of his pulse. He thought about how he’d carried him upstairs so effortlessly. He was definitely the strongest person he knew. Well, perhaps Thor and Captain America were on the same level, but he saw Loki’s strength much more often - and without the muscles and obviousness of the other two. It was strange that it was such a fact of life that he often forgot Loki wasn’t human. He was just daddy Loki most of the time. The fact he came from another world entirely didn’t really seem to matter.

-

Tony did join them later on, hair still dripping from his shower. He didn’t look happy, but he wrapped the quilted blanket round Loki’s shoulders and pulled him close. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Loki, but they both seemed happy enough with their arrangement - although Loki kept glancing at Peter at first, making sure he was alright now he wasn’t under his arm anymore.

Soon enough, Loki started to drift, and Peter could tell there was no point opening his mouth. So, he stood up slowly and slipped out of the room, down the hall, and sat down at the piano. A bit of practice couldn’t hurt.

-

Peter took himself to bed later on. He checked the living room first. His parents were still together: Loki had long since fallen asleep, and it looked as though Tony was going that way too. He left them to it.

He knew there were some challenges to come, mainly what people at school would say now there was a press release, and the over-impending threat of paparazzo. But those were things he’d deal with in the moment. He sighed to himself as he climbed into bed. Maybe tomorrow would be a bit simpler.

-

Tuesday morning was met with distaste. Peter hadn’t slept especially well: he felt restless and worried, and to top it off, people kept waking him up with texts, sending multiple messages. He didn’t reply to any of them, but the constant beeping for the first couple of hours made him so angry, it was all he could do to not throw his phone across the room and smash a window into the bargain, just to let his frustrations out. Eventually he just turned off his phone, but even then, he couldn’t settle down, and being woken up for school on so little sleep didn’t bode well with him.

“Come on, chick. You’ll be late if you don’t get up now”

Peter didn’t had a choice. Besides, going to school sounded like a good idea. Sure, he’d have to deal with the aftermath of the press release, but he didn’t really want to stay in the house when his parents were potentially still going to be at odds with each other.

-

It was incredibly strange to be in the car with Tony on the way to St Hendrick’s. Peter had expected Loki or even Happy to take him after the events of last night, but Tony had appeared seemingly at the last minute, ready. He seemed different, somehow - and Peter wasn’t sure if that were reassuring or not.

“So, are you doing anything for that end of term show?” Tony asked a couple of minutes into the journey.

“Um...” Peter couldn’t quite bring himself to look at him. “I don’t think so...”

“No? You should. You know, get involved, make the most of the time you have left there. You might end up regretting it if you don’t”

Peter didn’t say anything. Tony seemed to be acting almost normal - which, given the circumstances, was certainly not normal. And that was unsettling.

So he stayed quiet. Tony kept glancing at him. Peter looked out of the window and tried to ignore him, but it was difficult as he was still hyper-aware of every little move he made.

“Well, think about it” Tony said eventually. “Go out with a bang”

Peter still didn’t say anything. Luckily, the school was in sight now. The awkwardness would be over soon.

- 

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair by way of a goodbye, but he didn’t linger, much to Peter’s relief and surprise. He wasn’t feeling 100%, and that journey hadn’t helped. Still, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be - and he had a feeling he was going to have to exercise that today.

-

There were whispers, of course, and stares, and a few pointed fingers. Peter kept his earphones in, sound-tracking his journey to the form room, and not looking anyone in the face until he found Millie and Flo.

“I was right” 

Peter glared, a little bit angry, but not enough to make a big deal out of it. He sat down beside Flo, who offered him a sherbet lemon. Peter declined, but he was glad of the touch of normality.

“You haven’t been round for ages” Flo said. “Are you still going to visit me after... Well, you know”

Peter looked at her. He grabbed his bag, finding his whiteboard.

You can’t get rid of me that easily

Flo read the message, and smiled. “Good”

“What about me?” Millie said. “We’ll still be friends, won’t we?”

Peter nodded.

“What about Macy?”

Peter wrinkled his nose. He hadn’t exactly made up with Macy yet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was a shame, he thought, that Malaki wasn’t interested in Macy - they’d make the perfect ill-adjusted couple. 

Speaking of Malaki...

Peter looked round, but he couldn’t see him. Part of him wanted to, even though Malaki had guessed right about the DNA results. At least Malaki respected him, even if he was a bit full-on and a bit of a bad influence. Even Peter had to admit that. 

As if on cue, there was a series of loud thumps, followed by a crash as the form room door burst open, denting the wall as the handle smacked into the plaster, and there was Malaki, looking like he’d been running from the police, his hair newly purple - incredible, considering what the boarding master had done last time he’d gone purple. Malaki spotted Peter, and straightened up, hoicking his bag up onto his shoulder.

Flo shifted, and Peter heard her noise of disapproval. 

“In a rush, are we, Malaki?” she said.

“Oh, always” Malaki said, pushing his hair out of his face and plonking himself down on the desk. “Hey, Curly”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

“Good to see you, too” he said. “Have you got a few minutes?”

Peter checked the clock. They had a few minutes before the bell, but Flo grabbed his wrist when he went to stand up.

“You’re going to get into trouble” she said. 

Peter looked between the two of them, trying to weight it up, when there was another bang and crash, and Nigel made his own dramatic entrance, looking worse for wear. He paused, hands on the sides of the doorway. 

“OWENS!”

Suddenly Malaki’s dishevelled look made sense. It was quite amusing, in a way, how Malaki avoided Nigel with such ease, laughing and dodging whenever Nigel made a grab at him. He jumped up onto the nearest desk, jumping between them, ignoring people’s protests.

“I’ll kill you, Owens!”

Well, Malaki might be nimble, but even he couldn’t avoid the swinging of a full school satchel against his legs. There was a collective gasp and hiss as Malaki fell off a desk and onto the floor with a stomach-turning thump. Nigel took the chance to get the upper hand and lunged. It seemed like an unfair advantage, so Peter pulled away from Flo and decided to stick his oar in.

Nigel wasn’t expecting to suddenly have an arm round his neck, and it made him jump. It was the work of a moment to throw Nigel aside and crawl to Malaki’s aid.

“Hey, beautiful” Malaki mumbled, sitting up and sucking his breath.

“Are you alright?” People were asking. “Are you hurt??”

“I’m fine, I’m fine” Malaki said, but the puddle of blood on the carpet said differently. 

“Nigel, you idiot!” It was Millie, fuming, smacking him one with her Hello Kitty notebook. “He could have cracked his head open! Hey, Peter, move”

Peter did as he was told, letting Millie take charge of the situation. Everyone soon had a full view of the damage to the back of Malaki’s head, and the blood made the whole situation so much darker.

“Oh my god! Nigel, look what you’ve done!”

Millie wouldn’t let anyone else intervene. She pulled her jumper off, pressed it to the back of Malaki’s head, and did her best to get him off the floor safely.

There was a small silence after Millie had left with Malaki to go down to the nurse. Peter looked at Nigel, who had turned very pale, and whose eyes widened as he made eye contact with Peter.

“Hey, it was an accident”

Peter didn’t believe him. He pounced, and was shocked at the way Nigel grabbed him.

“Come with me”

“Peter, don’t!” Flo tried, but was quickly shut down. 

She might have a fierce streak, but she didn’t fancy her chances against Nigel.

-

There was a door on the wall opposite the form room, leading to a secluded outdoor space. Nigel didn’t let go of Peter’s arm until they were out there and the door had closed behind them. 

“What are you playing at?!” Peter snapped, shoving him. “You’re lucky you’ve got a rich dad, you know”

“Not as rich as yours”

“That’s not the point!” 

Peter went for him again, and within seconds, they were flat on the concrete, and somehow Nigel had ended up on top. Peter stopped, breathing heavily, and Nigel stooped and kissed him. So Peter smacked him one.

“What are you doing?! This isn’t some film where you can get rid of all the tension by hate-kissing!”

“I can try”

“You wouldn’t”

“Wouldn’t I, Peter Stark? Watch this”

He kissed him again, ignore Peter’s protests.

“You like it really” he said, kissing his jaw and neck.

“No, I don’t! I said stop it! Nigel, get off me!”

It took a little while for him to gather himself enough to fight back, and when he did, it was with full force. It was restrained only by the tight, restricted uniform he was wearing, but even then, Spiderman was no match for a misguided little rich kid. 

Only it didn’t work in his favour. Sure, he was stronger, and more skilled, but Nigel was heavy, and the ground was slippery and uneven - so it came as no surprise when they both went tumbling with a heavy thunk.

“AH! Ow!”

“Peter? Hey, are you alright?”

“What do you think?!” Peter growled, grabbing his bleeding forehead. “You could’ve cracked my head open as well as Malaki’s!”

“Good payback for a broken heart?”

Peter knocked him over and hauled himself to his feet. “You’re such a prick, Nigel”

“Does that mean you’re not going to visit after you leave St Hendrick’s?”

Peter looked at him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable”

He went back inside, and Nigel scurried after him. “Hey! Come on, don’t be like that! You’ve been talking to me alright! It’s been nice”

Peter glared at him, feeling a little giddy after hitting his head so hard on the fire door handle. 

“...I’ll take you to the nurse”

-

The look on the nurse’s face when Peter and Nigel turned up said it all. 

“Two in one day! And you haven’t even had your first lesson yet!” she exclaimed, pushing Peter down onto the bed. “Whatever will the headmaster say?”

Peter looked at Malaki, who was lying on the next bed, looking pretty unwell, Millie at his side. But one look was enough to tell him that he hadn’t spilt the beans about Nigel. It looked like it might be down to him. Again. And he supposed, after everything Nigel had let him get away with, maybe he owed him the same courtesy. 

-

Peter got off a lot lighter than Malaki. His bump to the head had felt a lot worse than it was, and a quick clean and dressing, and a glass of water was all it took to fix him up. As for Malaki... Well, even without seeing how it happened, there were enough bloody medical consumables for anyone to see the extent of it, and not long after Peter got there, he was sick. And then he was sick again, and his consciousness started drifting. It was bad, and Peter had way too much experience with it. 

The headmaster and boarding master were summoned, and before long, Malaki was packed up to go to hospital, and the paramedics asked the question all four children had been dreading: “What happened?”

Everyone looked at Peter. He started crying, just a bit.

“...We...” he looked at Nigel. “We were just messing about...”

Mr Pipe-Fowler shook his head. “You’ve been very silly, all of you”

“This one’s always silly” Mr Hardwood, the boarding master, sighed. “He needs putting back on baby reins”

-

Mr Pipe-Fowler escorted Millie, Nigel, and Peter to their first lesson, made their excuses, and left. Once they were settled in groups, Nigel leant across the table.

“Why did you let me get away with it?”

Peter didn’t want to answer. Flo pushed his whiteboard at him.

“I want to know, too”

Peter picked up his whiteboard pen.

I owed you one

Nigel nodded slowly. “Well. Thank you. My father would have killed me”

“You deserve everything you get” Millie said.

“Everyone makes mistakes” Flo said. “You’ve let Peter get away with things. Not as bad as that, but, well, I suppose you’ve levelled the playing field now”

“Table three!” Mr Jones barked. “Stop gassing and get on with your work!”

“Sorry, Mr Jones!”

Peter looked down at his workbook. Luckily the rest of the morning was independent study. Maybe he’d see if he was allowed a practice room. He couldn’t get Malaki of his mind, but maybe a bit of playing would help.

-

Mr James was happy to make an exception and allow Peter full reign of a practice room.

“Stay as long as you like” he said. “I’ve got a class but I’ll check on you in a bit if you’re still here”

Peter just nodded. He waited till he was alone, and then sat down at the piano. He leant his elbow on the keys, listening to the heavy notes reverberate as he did so. He rested his head on his hand and tapped a few keys. He couldn’t get the events of the morning off his mind. He still wasn’t entirely sure how it had all happened, but he wished it hadn’t. He couldn’t seem to settle his mind now. He didn’t even feel like playing. Really, he just wanted to go home and go to sleep. He wished it was a viable option. It almost made him envy the boarders: some of them had the option to go back to the boarding houses for their independent study periods. That would be a godsend.

-

The rest of the day seemed to drag painfully slowly. Peter was exhausted by the time the final bell rang. He dragged himself outside, feeling even more tired and fed up when he saw Tony’s car waiting for him. 

“Hey, kiddo” Tony said as he climbed into the car. “Hey! What happened to your head?!”

“Can you take me to the hospital?”

“What? Why, what is it?! Does your head hurt? Do you feel sick, dizzy?”

“It’s not for me! I need to see Malaki!”

Tony blinked at him. “Malaki? Hey, Peter, what happened?”

Tony rested his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, looking at him worriedly. Peter looked at him for a moment, his heart thudding, and suddenly everything came flooding out and he gabbled everything that had happened.

There was a small silence. Tony withdrew his hand.

“It’s probably best we get you home: sounds like you’ve had a rough day”

“I need to see Malaki! Please, just for a bit. It’s not like we’ve got anything much to get back for”

“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. What if he’s not allowed visitors?”

“He is; he texted and told me. Dad, please! I really need to see him. Please...”

Tony sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll take you, but if they say you can’t see him, we’re not arguing, ok?”

What choice did he have? After all, at least this distracted from the other obvious trauma. And Peter was speaking to him again, at least. That had to count for something.

*