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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

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What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

“Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

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#what a lie we're in #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years ago

Text

Endless Love

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Plus Size Reader

Summary: JJ has a surprise for you...

Taglist:

@drewswannabegirl @velyssaraptor @kaitieskidmore1 @jiaraendgame @teamnick @jeyramarie @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @baby-pogue @ma10427 @judayyyw @must-be-a-weasley-92 @iamaunicorn4704 @agirlwholovescoffee @justcallmesams @lasnaro @lonely-kermit @jellyfishbeansontoast @ifilwtmfc @gviosca @fernweh-fangirl @runway-to-my-aid @eb15 @tangledinsparkles @hurricane-abigail @outerbongs @jaxandcomet

Note: This is another request I hope I did you justice! Also just wanted to throw a quick psa that I DO NOT condone body shaming or anything of the sort. I am a plus size female and the words used in my writings are words that not only myself but others I know have heard said about their size. Body shaming is still happening today and I want to shed light on the fact that no matter your size YOU ARE WORTHY, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, YOU DESERVE LOVE! There is not enough representation for plus size queens on this app and I created this series so that whoever reads it feels inclusive since most reader inserts are assumed to be a cute, short, skinny female. Not saying there is anything wrong with that, but there is never any stories that females are described in various shapes and sizes which is why I created this series. If you are triggered by anything in these fics then please do not read these and hurt yourself. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

=======================================

After a long day at work, there was nothing more satisfying then seeing JJ. The way his beautiful baby blue eyes sparkled every time he saw me, and the way his whole face would light up. He was the light I needed in the darkness of my mind. He made me feel beautiful despite what others, and myself think. He made me feel like I deserved more than what I let myself believe.

======================================

It was a busy day at The Wreck, Kie and I were flying around the restaurant serving customers. Just as it had slowed down, the guys came in. I was cleaning a table, so my back was turned to them. I felt a pair of arms around me and jumped. I turned to see JJ, his signature goofy grin adorning his features.

“Hi,” I whispered, still clutching the rag I was using.

“I wish I would have known you were planning on looking so sexy today. I would have stopped and got a picture.” he grinned, I rolled my eyes.

“You saw me before I left J, I haven’t changed any.” I laughed.

“Maybe it’s seeing you hard at work that has me going gorgeous.” he chuckled, kissing my cheek. He lived to see me blush, he thought it was adorable.

“You’re so dumb.” I giggled, trying to escape his hold so I could go back to work. He tightened his hold, his eyes full of mischief.

“What’s your hurry babe?” he asked, mock confusion tinting his features. His hands started to roam, from my waist, down to my love handles, and further to my ass.

“JJ stop, I’m at work!” I whisper yelled.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” he said, his hands still roaming.

“Quit!” I laughed, grabbing his hands in mine.

“When are you leaving? I have plans for us.” he smiled, wriggling his brows at me.

“As soon as Kie’s dad says so, what are we doing?” I grinned, excitement coursing through me.

“It’s a surprise.” he whispered, lips ghosting over mine.

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I sighed, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips that were brushing against mine.

“I know babygirl, but I really think you’ll like this one.” he smirked.

“I need to go back to work before Kie comes and yells at us.” I chuckled, giving him a quick kiss before breaking from his hold.

“My hard working woman, makin’ me horny just by wiping down some tables.” he winked.

I slapped him with my rag, shooing him away so I could get out of here faster. I was a little way from the bar, turning my back to my friends. I was hoping they would talk about whatever this surprise JJ has for me. I was dying to know so I could mentally prepare myself. Surprises gave me extremely bad anxiety, but not as bad if it’s JJ.

“Can you not harass y/n while she’s working? I’d like to go home today.” Kie sighed, smiling at how sweet JJ was to me.

“You’re just mad I get to take her sexy ass home, and you get stuck with this” JJ said, pointing to Pope. I chuckled, shaking my head at his antics.

“Hey!” Pope exclaimed.

“Sarah and I got everything set up, text me right before you get there so we can bring out the food.” John B. tried, and failed, to whisper to JJ.

“Guys, what if she doesn’t like it?” JJ asked, I could picture a worried look on his face.

“She will love it, I know y/n.” Kie said, I’m sure she was rolling her eyes at the blonde.

==============================

I practically sprinted to the back as soon as Kie’s dad gave us the ok to head out for the night. I was excited to spend some alone time with JJ. Both of us basically lived with John B, so we were never really alone. We really had never gone on a date either, we were always with the other Pogues getting into something. Of course I loved them, but it would be nice for one night to just be JJ and I.

As soon as I walked to the front where JJ was waiting for me, he grabbed me up in his arms. We were both smiling like idiots, basking in our love. He leaned down and planted a sweet, tender kiss on my lips. I smiled into the kiss, making it hard for him to actually kiss me.

“Baby, stop I’m trying to get my kiss I was denied earlier.” he laughed, his lids heavy as he pulled back to look at me.

“I can’t help it!” I giggled, grabbing his face to kiss him properly.

“Are you ready for the best surprise of your life?” he winked, pulling me out to the van.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grinned, thanking him as he opened my door for me. JJ jumped in the driver seat, throwing on his aviators

“I love you,” he said, gripping my hand.

“I love you J,” I whispered, smiling softly at him.

==================================

I was very confused when we arrived at The Boneyard, not expecting the surprise to be here....

“Why are we at the beach?” I asked.

“You’ll see, patience baby.” he said, tipping his sunglasses down to wink.

“You irritate me,” I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“I promise you’ll love it.” he said, leaning over to kiss me quickly.

JJ grabbed some stuff out of the back, opening my door when he was finished. He grabbed my hand once I jumped out of the van, taking us down the little walk way. I gasped, not believing the sight in front of me. A table was set up with a white table cloth, candles, and a vase of roses. Next to the table, a bed sheet was laid out with lots of pillows and blankets. On closer inspection, the plates on the table had my favorite meal along with a bottle of my favorite wine.

“JJ,” I whispered, tears gathering in my eyes.

“Do you like it?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“I love it, I love you.” I laughed, hugging him tight to me. I kissed him hard, hoping to show my appreciation for him.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.” he grinned, kissing my nose.

========================================

We talked, all evening long. Reminiscing on our most embarrassing moments of childhood, sometimes laughing so hard one of us almost choked. The best part of our relationship was the both of us having the same sense of humor, never a dull moment between us. I loved this boy so much, sometimes thinking about it made me want to cry. He was so kind, generous, and funny. He cared so deeply for me it left me stunned sometimes. I had known this boy my whole life, and he still was full of surprises. Kie and John B love to tease that they had never seen JJ look at a girl the way he looks at me.

“Want to go swimming?” he winked. Another great thing about JJ is that I didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed to be in a bathing suit, I mostly had to worry about him trying to tear it off of me.

“Where am I supposed to change? I didn’t even bring a bathing suit.” I chuckled.

“What if I didn’t want us to change?” he asked, his eyes clouding with an emotion I had never seen before.

“JJ, I’m not swimming in my clothes.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“Didn’t say we were wearing our clothes baby.” he said, eyeing me up and down.

“So you want-you...you want to go skinny dipping?” I asked, my face turning red.

“Mhm,” he nodded, his tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“I-I...I don’t know J.” I stammered. I had never been naked in front of JJ before, we hadn’t sealed the deal yet. I was nervous to say the least. He got up from his chair, coming to squat in front of me.

“If you don’t want to we don’t have to baby, it’s just something I’ve always wanted to do....with you.” he said, staring deep into my eyes.

I really wanted to, but I was hesitant. I had never shared anything intimate with anyone before, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t absolutely terrify me. But this was JJ, and I knew he loved me with all my flaws. I knew I could trust him with my insecurities.

“I just...I’m a little nervous. I-I’ve never been ya know, in the nude in front of anyone before.” I mumbled, not able to meet his gaze.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world y/n, you know you don’t have to hide from me. I love you...how about, if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll go out first with my back turned, and you can meet me in the water.” he said, his eyes shining with hope.

“Ok,” I whispered, my cheeks flushing as he kissed me.

He stripped, winking at me before running out to the water. I sat stunned, my eyes wide as saucers. The boy had to be sculpted by God himself, there was not a single flaw on his body. I got up from my chair, slowly removing my clothing. The wind was a tad chilly, so I wrapped a towel around me.

I walked out to the ocean, my nerves starting to skyrocket. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest, I was afraid it would jump out any second. I removed my towel just as the dry sand met the wet, letting my hair down as well. I was thankful the waves were calm, making it easier for me to reach JJ. I ducked down in the water, swimming closer to him. I grabbed his bicep, and he turned to face me. He got down in the water with me, pulling me closer to him. I leaned my forehead on his, nuzzling his nose.His ringed hands found my thighs, pulling my legs around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his strong arms caged me to him.

“Not so bad is it?” he grinned, tipping his nose to mine.

“I guess not,” I chuckled, leaning back to look at the sky. “It’s so pretty, look at the stars.” I said in awe.

“I don’t need to look, I have you in front of me.” he said, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his cheesy line.

“That was cheesy even for you” I laughed, my stomach hurting from how hard I laughed.

“Well I thought it was romantic.” he huffed, pouting his lips.

I pulled myself away from him, a mischievous look in my eyes. His eyes narrowed, knowing I was up to something. I jumped, dunking him underwater. I giggled at my childish ways, squealing moments later when JJ yanked me with him. We both resurfaced, his hand came to push his hair out of his face. He stood to his full height, stalking up to me. I backed away, the look in his eye was as if he were an animal, and I was his prey. I was so turned on I started feeling pulsations all over my body. My breathing became short, my eyes wide with anticipation.

He snatched a hold of my wrist, I gasped as he yanked to to him. Our chests were touching, my hard nipples brushing his abdomen. I stared into his eyes that had grown darker with lust. My other hand brushed against his thigh, I got a burst of confidence and started to trail my hand up his thigh. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath on my lips. I came in contact with his hard member, JJ groaned deep in his throat.

I tested the waters, sliding my hand up and down to see what made him make that sound again. I slid my thumb over his tip, causing a shudder to run through JJ. He was starting to pant the faster I moved my hand, his whole body becoming more twitchy. His rings were digging into my skin, his grip on my waist insanely tight, but I didn’t mind. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure from watching JJ get off from just my hand took over my senses.

“Baby, please...you’re torturing me.” he moaned, thrusting his hips into my hand.

I hummed, leaning my cheek against his. I kissed down his neck, moving my hand slightly faster. His panting breaths were hitting my neck, he leaned down and bit my shoulder. I moaned loudly in his ear, the pain mixed with the pleasure had me rubbing my thighs to seek some kind of friction. He sucked on my skin, leaving his mark behind. I jerked my hand faster, stopping to rub my thumb over his slit. He cursed into my shoulder, biting down harder on it.

“Fuck, shit...I-I’m gonna cum baby.” JJ groaned.

He only lasted a few more seconds before he was yelling curses, his member twitched in my hand. I was in awe of this man in front of me, the pure beauty of his face in absolute pleasure was astonishing. Once he came down, he smashed his lips to mine. I moaned in his mouth, tongues and teeth fighting in a passionate battle.

JJ started to pull me towards shore, my heart clenched. He would see me fully naked before him, but I was so turned on I didn’t pay any mind to it. I had come to the realization that no matter what I thought about myself, JJ would love me no matter what I looked like. He loved me for the person I was, and he loved every inch of me. I wasn’t scared anymore, I wanted to be with him, and I wanted him to see me at my most vulnerable state.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling me to the sheet that was laid out with pillows and blankets.

We both laid down, JJ coming over me. I stared at how his arm muscles bulged as he held himself up, the veins in his arms coming to the surface. His shark tooth necklace dangled from his neck, I grabbed a hold of it and pulled him to me. Our lips met for a breif second before JJ pulled away, smirking at me. I grinned as his lips moved down my neck, stopping to make little love bites along the way.

“Our friends are going to make fun of me if you don’t stop marking me J,” I laughed.

“They’ll just know we had a good time princess, I think it’s a good look on you.” he smirked into my skin.

He moved lower, my giggle turning into a moan as he took my nipple into his mouth. He nibbled lightly on it, sending tingles all the way down to my lower regions. His other hand came to play with my other nipple, his cold rings making me shiver. My hips shifted under him, the need to feel him in my most private area becoming almost too much. JJ finally began to move, kissing the valley between my breasts and lower. He kissed all around my stomach, knowing it was one of the areas on my body I was most insecure about.

“I love you here, and here, and here.” he kissed my stomach, my waist, and my hips. Eventually kissing all over my body, a huge smile played on my features. My cheeks began to hurt from how big my smile was. My heart soared with love for this boy in front of me.

“I love you J,” I whispered, waving my hand through his drying blonde locks.

JJ got down between my legs, propping himself on his elbows. My breath hitched in my throat as I felt his breath near my heat. I choked on a moan as he took a long lick all the way up my heat, my hips bucked into his face. His strong arms came around to hold my hips down as he licked and sucked all over my heat. My hand got tighter in his hair, yanking him closer to me. He shook his head to get as deep as possible, a long moan forcing itself from my throat. He dipped his fingers all over my wetness and his saliva before entering a finger inside me. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but I relaxed myself. When I got used to the feeling, JJ entered another finger, and bean scissoring them inside me. He sucked on my clit as his fingers began to move faster, curling inside of me. His fingers hit that special spot inside me, stars forming in my vision.

“JJ, baby, please!” I begged, squirming underneath his hold.

“Don’t interrupt me while I’m eating babygirl or you won’t get your treat.” he smirked, I groaned and threw my head back against the pillow.

He moved his fingers faster, pounding them inside of me at this point. His head shaking to get his tongue as far as it could go, alternating to sucking my clit. I could feel the knot in my stomach ready to snap, the obscene noises from JJ’s fingers inside me was like music to my ears.

I let go, screaming JJ’s name over and over again. My hips tried to move off the sheet, but JJ threw his arm across me to hold me down. Sucking and licking until I started to twitch. He sat up, a proud smile on his face. I could see his chin glistening with a mix of me and his saliva, he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen him do, I looked down and saw that he had become hard again. The need to feel him inside of me taking over.

“I want you inside of me JJ,” I whispered, the sultriness of my voice surprising me.

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning down to kiss my cheeks.

“Yes,,I want you.” I said, sliding my hands down his sides.

“You tell me if you want me to stop ok? Do I need a condom?” he asked, raising a brow at me.

“Yes, and no. I’m covered.” I said, pulling his mouth to mine.

He poked his member where the wetness seeping out of me was, slicking it up before slowly entering inside me. I could feel the sting, my nails dug into his biceps. He stopped for a moment watching my face. I relaxed myself, giving JJ a nod to continue. He slid all the way in, stopping to let me get used to being full of him. We were both panting at this point, JJ’s pupils were blown wide with pleasure.

After a few moments, JJ started thrusting slowly. The uncomfortable feeling started to fizzle away and I began to feel nothing but pure ecstasy. I gasped when JJ started moving faster. His eyes were glued to where we were becoming one, his breathing becoming short. I grabbed a hold of his hair, yanking his lips to mine. Our tongues moved in sync as we both moaned into each other’s mouths. JJ tilted our hips, the new angle causing him to hit somewhere inside me that made me yelp. I threw my head back, moaning his name as a feeling of pure bliss sky rocketed through me. I could imagine him smirking at me, loving the way he made me say his name. He was pounding into me at this point, an animalistic growl leaving his throat as he chased his high. He brought one hand down to my clit, adding to the exceeding pleasure.

“Are you there baby?” he asked, his breath hitting my lips.

“Yes, fuck.” I squeaked as he hit that spot again.

He started to move faster, the sloshing sounds becoming more obscene from where we were one. His thumb on my clit moved impossibly swift, my legs starting to shake as I was almost to my peak. Both of us let go at the same time, JJ’s head fell to my neck, moaning loudly in my ear. I screamed his name, my legs twitching and shaking as I clenched on his member. My nails scratched hard down his back, a hiss coming from JJ as I’m sure I left welts behind. We both came down from our highs, JJ leaned to plant a soft kiss on my lips. He reached over to get a towel to clean ourselves off, pulling a blanket over us.

“You’re amazing, I’ve never came so hard in my life.” he sighed, flopping down on the sheet.

“You’re lying” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him.

“No I’m serious, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. Rest up my love because we’re doing that again.” he smirked, his hand traveling down to squeeze my ass.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to go again, I think I might have wore you out J.” I giggled, tracing my fingers over his abs.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, quirking a brow at me.

“Maybe..” I mumbled, biting my bottom lip as I stared into his eyes.

He rolled on top of me, his tongue poking out to lick his lips. He leaned down close to me, our lips just brushing together. I breathed out shakily, my eyes wide with anticipation.

“I love you baby, thank you for giving me you.” he said sweetly, his eyes holding so much love I could have cried.

“You’re the man of my dreams J, there’s no one else I would rather have shared this with.” I grinned.

“And I’ll be the last, that I’m sure of.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from me.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I giggled.

“I plan on keeping you for a long time, so buckle in princess.” he smiled wide, leaning down to kiss me before I could let out my witty reply.

“Love you,” he said against my lips.

“I love you,” I whispered, caressing his cheeks.

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bellaireland1981 · 4 years ago

Text

New Beginnings: CH 6

Characters: Andy Barber x Single Mom! Briella James (Named Reader), Jacob Barber, Ava James

Summary: Briella James is a HS teacher and has Jacob in her class. Jacob meets Briella’s 5 year old daughter and they form a bond. Andy is interested in Briella but her ex (and Ava’s dad) is becoming a problem!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some angst, jerk of an ex that harasses Briella, kissing… will update in future chapters.

Word Count: 4084

A/N: I do Not own Andy Barber or Jacob Barber, they are fictional characters. I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work or translate it to another site. Reblogs always welcome! This is my FIRST EVER attempt at writing for Andy…or any character, so be gentle! THANK YOU to my friends for supporting me and encouraging me! I’m my own worst critic so I love their feedback! @denisemarieangelina @fluffymisha97 @jamielea81

Chapter 5

Thankfully the rest of the week went pretty quickly. Friday morning, Ava was a ball of excited energy for dinner with Andy and Jacob. She wasn’t the only one. You couldn’t wait either.

Unfortunately, throughout the day you were inundated with texts and calls from your ex, which set you on edge. You managed to make it to your lunch before you broke down and actually called Andy. You planned to just leave a voicemail, as you were sure he was busy. You were happily surprised when he picked up.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said, “Are you on lunch? How’s your day going?”

“Yeah.” You said, “It’s much better now that I’m talking to you. I was just going to leave you a voicemail, but this is much better.”

“Everything ok?” He asked, concerned, “And unless I’m in court, I’ll always answer for you.”

“I’ve been getting a lot of texts and calls today from the ex.” You replied, shakily, “It’s just getting to me. It’s exhausting.”

“Forward me the messages,” he said, “I promise you, this will be over soon. In the meantime, we have tonight and tomorrow night together to look forward to.”

“That’s what’s getting me through.” You replied, “I can’t wait to see you. Ava is beyond excited as well.”

“Only a few more hours.” He said, “I can’t wait to see you and Ava either. How about you both come over at 4:30. Gives you time to get her picked up and I’ll leave work early and meet you at my house.”

“Sounds perfect.” You agreed. “I’ll let you get back to work, and I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon.” He said, “And you can call me whenever you need to.”

The rest of the day went smoother. The calls and texts tapered down so you were at least able to focus. Once your last class was finished, you wrapped up some last minute emails to parents, then shut your laptop, grabbed your stuff and headed out of the building.

You got Ava picked up from school and headed home to change before going to Andy’s. Ava insisted on wearing her Elsa pajamas, even though you repeatedly told her it was not a sleepover. One thing you were sure of, the child was headstrong. You changed into jeans and a lighter weight sweater. It was starting to get cooler, especially at night.

You arrived at Andy’s and parked behind his black Audi. Getting out of your car, you made your way around to get Ava out and the two of you walked up to the front door. Andy was already there waiting with the door open, smiling at the two of you.

“Hi Andy!” Ava exclaimed, bounding up the step and throwing her arms around him. He hugged her back, smiling at you over her head.

“Hey, Princess.” He said, “I hope you’re hungry. We’ve got lots of pizza on the way, and enough snacks to rival the movie theater.”

“I’m starving.” she confirmed, beaming up at Andy. “Where’s Jacob?”

“Right here” He said, coming up behind his dad. “Come on, let’s steak out the best seats for the movie.” Jacob reaches for Ava’s hand, helping her into the house.

“Hey, Beautiful.” Andy said smiling at you, “Come here.” He gently pulled you up the step into the house and into his arms. You felt your whole body relax into his embrace. The stress of the week and everything with your ex melting away.

“That was exactly what I needed.” you said smiling up at him, “Thank you.”

“If I’m being honest, I needed it too,” He replied, “It was a long day. I was more than happy to leave it all behind. Come on, let’s go inside, I’ve got wine or beer. You’ve earned it.”

Andy led you into the house and to the kitchen. It was a very nice house from what you saw of it so far. It was definitely larger than yours. Surprisingly, it looked very homey, not the bachelor pad you were expecting with two males living there. Jacob and Ava were seated in what looked like oversized bean bag chairs on the living room floor flipping through Disney+, deciding on which movie to watch. It was cute that Jacob was patiently flipping through them all, even though everyone knew the choice would be Frozen.

You’d decided beer sounded better for the evening, especially with pizza coming. You and Andy sat at the island in the kitchen sipping your beer, enjoying each other’s company while you waited for dinner to arrive.

“I wasn’t sure where you’d like to go tomorrow night, but some of the other lawyers at the firm suggested the new sushi and steak restaurant KoFusion. I made reservations but we can always go somewhere else if you’d prefer.” Andy said, taking a sip of his beer.

“That sounds perfect.” You replied, smiling. “I’ve actually been wanting to try it, but Ava isn’t really open to trying sushi or steak.”

“I don’t think I would have been much for them either at her age.” He laughed, “Jake may eat steak now, but I doubt I’d ever get him to try sushi.”

“I was planning on making them a mini taco bar for dinner.” You said, “It’s easy to make.”

“I know Jake loves tacos so he’ll be happy.” He replies.

The doorbell rang, signaling dinner’s arrival. Andy grabbed the pizza and paid the delivery person, bringing the pizza back to the kitchen. We loaded up plates for everyone, grabbed drinks for the kids and brought it all to the living room.

“We’re going to watch Frozen!” Ava declared, “Jacob said they haven’t seen it yet!”

“We were just hoping to get to watch it with you, Princess Ava.” Andy said smiling and winking at Ava, while handing Jacob his pizza.

“Be careful, Monkey.” I told her, handing her a plate.

“Mommy, I want a Princess party this year for my birthday!” Ava said, “And I want Jacob and Andy to come to my party!”

“When is your birthday, Ava?” Jacob asked.

“November 6th!” Ava said excitedly, “And guess WHAT?”

“What?” Jacob humored her smiling.

“I’ll be 6 years old!” She replied, “Mommy said it’s special because it’s my golden birthday!”

“That is very special, Ava!” Andy said, “We’d love to come to your extra special princess party.”

“We’ll go get the invitations next week and fill them out so you can pass them out to your friends.” You told her, “

Jacob starte the movie and we all watched while eating our dinner. Once everyone was finished, you stacked the plates on the coffee table until the movie was over. Andy scooted closer to you on the couch, pulling you into him. His arm was round you and relaxed against him, enjoying just being with him.

Halfway through the movie, Andy paused it and declared it was ice cream sundae time. Everyone went to the kitchen and built their own sundae before carrying it back to the living room to resume the movie.

After the movie was over you helped Andy to carry all of the dishes to the kitchen. You offered to help him with the dishes but he said he’d have Jacob help later. Ava was starting to get sleepy, so you got her tucked into the car and said goodnight to both Andy and Jacob. You were definitely looking forward to your date the next night.

“Drive safe and text me when you get home.” Andy said leaning in to kiss you gently through the driver’s side window.

“I promise” you replied, smiling.

By the time you got home, Ava was fast asleep. It was a good thing she’d worn her pajamas afterall. You didn’t want to wake her enough to brush her teeth, you figured one night wouldn’t hurt. Thankfully, she was still light enough you were able to carry her into the house and get her tucked into her bed. Once you finished that you text Andy to let him know you made it home. You exchanged a few more texts back and forth and then you too, decided to call it a night.

You spend most of Saturday getting errands run and household chores you’d neglected over the week completed. Ava spent a few hours with your parents while you got everything done. They were used to getting to spend time together on the weekends. Later afternoon you swung by to pick her up so that you could go home and get ready for your date.

“She’s welcome to spend the night here if you want, Sweetheart.” Your mom said, “That way you don’t have to rush home from your date.”

“Jacob is coming to the house to hang out with her while Andy and I go out.” You replied, “Those two are thick as thieves already.”

“All we heard about today was Jacob and Andy.” Your mom said smiling, “I can’t wait to meet them. Just be careful, Bri. I’d hate for Ava to get attached just to get her heart broken. You too for that matter.”

“I wouldn’t let her get attached if I wasn’t sure about this, Momma.” You reassure her, “I know it seems fast, and really, it is, but the connection is there… and it’s strong. Wait until you meet them, you’ll see.”

“How about you bring them over Sunday for a family dinner.” Your mom suggests.

“I can ask him.” You replied, “If this Sunday doesn’t work, we can always schedule for next week.”

“Just let me know.” she said.

Ava came in with her jacket already on, bouncing in excitement.

“Come on Mommy! Andy and Jacob are coming over soon!” She said. She ran and gave your parents hugs, “Bye Nana and Papa! I love you!”

“I’ve ever seen her in such a hurry to leave us before.” Your dad pouted, “We’ve got competition now, Honey.”

“That we do.” Your mom laughed, “Have fun tonight Baby doll! You can tell me all about your fun night with Jacob tomorrow, ok?”

“I will! And Mommy can tell you about her date with Andy!”

“I can’t wait.” Your mom said, winking at you.

“Love you both” You said, “I’ll call you about dinner.”

“Have fun, Sweetheart,” She said,”I’m really happy you’re getting back out there.”

Ava was already in her seat and buckled when you got to the car. On the ride home you glanced in the rearview mirror to look at Ava and noticed the same car had been behind you for several blocks. You shrugged figuring it was nothing and continued on your way home.

Once you pulled into your driveway and parked, you got Ava out and the two of you headed inside. She immediately started setting up the living room for a movie and game night. Poor Jacob would be kept busy for sure.

You decided it made more sense to get the taco meat cooked up and veggies chopped before getting ready, so you got to work on that while Ava was setting up the living room. She finished before you and came into the kitchen while you were getting everything ready.

“Mommy, can I have a snack?” She asked.

“There are apple slices and grapes in the fridge,”You told her, “Grab a bowl and you can put some fruit in it.”

“OK!” She carefully grabbed one of her bowls from the cupboard on the island and went to the fridge.

Twenty minutes later, all of the food was prepped and the taco meat was finished. You settled Ava on your bed with her tablet geared up to one of her learning games and you started looking through your closet to decide what to wear.

“Mommy,” Ava said looking up from her tablet, “You should wear the pretty blue dress you wore to Nana and Papa’s party. Andy wears blue lots, I think it’s his favorite.”

“You think so?” You asked, smiling, “I like that dress a lot too. I think I will wear it! Thank you my sweet Monkey!”

She beamed then went back to playing her game as you quickly changed into the dress. It was a short sleeved, chiffon fit and flare dress, simple yet elegant. Most importantly, it was comfortable so you wouldn’t be readjusting it all night. You chose the diamond pendant necklace your parents gave you when you graduated college, and a pair of silver drop earrings to match. Once you were dressed, you went into your bathroom and did your makeup. You decided to leave your hair down, but quickly took the curling iron to it give it a little bounce. Finally you were as ready as you were going to get.

Satisfied with the end result, you finally stepped out of the bathroom.

“You look pretty, Mommy!” Ava said, “Is it almost time for Jacob to come?”

“Almost!” You confirmed, “And thank you, Monkey. Let’s go downstairs, I need to check my phone.”

Ava made herself comfortable on the couch, while you went to your phone. You had several messages from your ex. You chose to ignore them for now. You didn’t want anything to ruin the night with Andy. You had one message from Andy, which you tapped to open.

Andy: We’re leaving now, be there shortly. See you soon. XX

You checked the time stamp and the current time and realized they’d be here any minute.

“Mommy! They’re HERE!” Ava exclaimed, launching herself off of the chair by the window where she’d apparently taken up watch.

“Give them a moment to get to the door, Monkey” You laughed, “Don’t go flying out of the house.”

You started to head to the door to open, but Ava flew past and beat you to the door. She remembered to look back and check that it was OK for her to open the door. Once you’d given permission she quickly pulled the door open. Andy and Jacob were just getting to the door.

“Hi Jacob!” she greeted him, happily, before launching herself at him to hug him. Jacob chuckled, bending down a bit to hug her back.

“Hey Ava!” He replied, “Ready to watch movies, eat junk food and stay up past your bedtime?”

“YES!” She confirmed, “Can you always be my babysitter? Not even Nana and Papa let me do all that!”

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to reveal your master plan while the parents are present, Jake.” Andy laughed.

“Hi Andy!” Ava said, breaking away from Jacob to hug him, then looking at the button up dress shirt he wore, added, “I knew blue was your favorite color! I told Mommy to wear the blue dress because she would be pretty and it was your favorite color!”

“Blue is my favorite color,” He confirmed smiling at her, then looking up at you, he said, “And your mommy looks beautiful.”

“Told you, Mommy!” Ava beamed, happy having helped you out.

“You did tell me, Monkey.” You replied smiling, then to Andy said, “You’re looking pretty handsome yourself.”

“Ok, Ava,” Jacob said, playfully rolling his eyes, “Let’s get away from these two.” The pair headed into the living room, Ava already chatting a mile a minute.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Andy smiled, stepping into the house, and closing the door. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close and dropping a quick kiss onto your lips.

“Hi.” You replied, smiling up at him, “Looks like we’ve learned how to clear the kids out of a room.”

“That’s going to be a handy skill to have.” He agreed, laughing. You both made your way into the living room where the kids were.

“Ok, the tacos are all ready to go, although you may want to reheat the meat. There are drinks in the fridge. Ava knows where all of the snacks are. Just make sure she isn’t bouncing off the walls from too much sugar.” You laugh, “There are emergency numbers on the fridge. If you need anything, just call or text.”

“We’ll be fine” Jacob assured you, “I’ve got this. You guys go have fun and don’t worry. We’ll be having too much fun here to even miss you.”

“I’m feeling the love here.” You teased him. “I know you’ll be fine, I’m not worried in the slightest.”

After hugging them both, they pretty much shoved you and Andy out of the house.

Once you arrived at the restaurant, Andy quickly came around and opened your door. He held your hand as the two of you made your way into the restaurant, only separating for him to open the door and then his hand landed on your back, gently guiding you into the building. Once inside, he took your hand in his own again.

You were seated at a semi-private table toward the back of the restaurant. Your waiter took your orders for drinks and then left you to look over the menu.

“This all looks amazing.” You said, “How is anyone supposed to make a decision?”

“I was thinking the same thing” he laughed, “How about we get a variety and we can try it all?”

“That’s a brilliant idea.” You agreed.

The waiter returned with your drinks and you placed your orders. You took a sip of the wine to help calm your nerves. You weren’t nervous around Andy, just being on a date after not dating for over 5 years was causing a little anxiety.

“I haven’t been on a first date since college.” Andy said, as if reading your thoughts. “I have to say, this one is already far better.”

“I haven’t been on any date of any kind since before Ava was born.” You replied, “But I can say with certainty that this one is already better than any date I’d been on before that.”

“Here’s to many more dates together.” Andy said, raising his glass to you. You raised yours toasting.

“And possibly to last first dates.” You said, smiling.

“I’ll definitely drink to that.” He agreed, smiling back at you.

“Ava spent the morning with my parents while I was running errands and according to them she didn’t stop talking about you and Jacob.” You told him. “They offered to keep her tonight but she wasn’t trying to miss out on time with Jacob.”

“I think Jake would have been bummed to miss out on time with Ava too.” Andy said, “I think he really likes having someone look up to him.”

“They’re good for each other.” You agreed, “My mom invited you and Jacob to dinner tomorrow, I told her I’d pass along the invite. It feels weird to say that on a first date. You don’t have to accept, I know it’s really soon.”

“We’d love to.” Andy reassured you, “It might be soon by others’ standards, but I’ve had enough of living by others’ standards. I think we just need to do this our own way.”

“I like the sound of that.” You agree, “We can make our own standard.”

The waiter brought the dishes to the table. You and Andy enjoyed the variety of sushi, trying different kinds. Conversation continued to flow during dinner. It honestly felt like you’d been on many dates by the time you were finished eating.

“I don’t think our kids want us home yet, and I’m not ready for this date to end.” Andy said, “Do you want to go for a walk by the lake?”

“I’d love to.” You said, “I’m not ready to go home yet either.”

After paying the bill, Andy leads you out to where the car is parked. He opens your door for you, and you slide into the passenger seat. He quickly walks around to the driver’s side and gets in. The drive to the lake doesn’t take long and being pretty deserted, it’s easy to find parking. Andy once again comes around to open your door and offers his hand to help you out of the car.

You’re glad you thought to grab the lightweight sweater to wear with your dress. It provides enough cover to where you’re not going to get cold while enjoying time with Andy.

You make your way to the path that leads along the lake, Andy taking your hand in his, your fingers intertwining.

“I’m really enjoying the milder fall weather this year.” You said, “It’s been really nice to be able to be outside longer. I’m hoping it holds through Ava’s birthday before it gets cold.”

“I imagine it would be easier to hold the party outside as opposed to all of those kids inside the house.” He chuckled, “I’ve really loved the weather being so mild too. It allows me to go for walks by a lake with a beautiful woman.”

“Smooth, Mr. Barber.” You laughed, “And yes, holding the party outside would be much less of a headache.”

“I’m only stating facts, Sweetheart.” He smirked, “And whether the party is inside or out, Jake and I can help wrangle kids.”

“That would be most helpful.” You said, smiling.

The two of you continued to walk along the path, stopping when you arrived at a pier. Andy led you to the end where there was a bench and you both sat down, close to one another. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in close, and you relaxed into his side.

“I haven’t been this happy or relaxed in a long time.” Andy admitted. “Even before everything exploded with Jake and then after...with the accident… I wasn’t happy. I was trying. I wanted to be happy and to want the life we had, but it felt too forced. I can’t remember the last time I was happy. Meeting you and getting to know you better, has changed everything. I don’t know if I deserve to be happy, but I’m going to hold on to this.”

“You deserve to be happy, Andy.” You said, turning slightly so you could look into his eyes. “I thought I was happy with my ex, I thought I wanted to marry him, but once he walked out when I got pregnant, I realized that I wasn’t actually happy with him. I don’t know that I ever really loved him. Being with you though, makes me happy.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, his head lowering to yours. His lips connected with your own, his beard rubbing against your face. His tongue licked at the seam of your lips, asking for entry. You allowed him access, your own tongue snaking out to meet his. The kiss deepened, he pulled you closer into him, your arms wound around his middle. You continued to kiss until you finally had to break apart for air. His hand stayed cupping your face, his thumb brushing against your kiss swollen lips.

“Maybe we should have had your parents keep Ava,” Andy teased, his voice husky, “We could have continued this without a curfew.”

“Maybe next time,” You smiled, “Depriving Ava of Jacob wouldn’t have won you any points.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” He agreed, “I need her on my side.��

“I think you’re good on that front.” You assured him.

“As much as I would love to stay out here with you, we should probably start to head back.” Andy said, reluctantly.

“We probably should.” You agreed.

You walked back towards his car hand in hand. On the drive back to your house, Andy kept your hand in his own, driving one handed.

Once you arrived back at your house, Andy parked and came around to you. This time when he helped you out of the car, he pulled you into him and kissed you again.

“I can definitely get used to that.” You said, smiling.

“Me too.” He said. “Shall we head in to see what the kids are up to?”

You nodded, turning to head to the front door. As you turned, movement caught your eye on the street. You turned your head to investigate and felt your stomach drop. In the street light, you were able to see the same car that you’d thought had been following you yesterday. With the light, you were able to see the driver.

“Andy” You said shakily, “It’s him. That’s my ex in the car.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, turning quickly to see the driver before he drove off down the street.

“Yes.” You confirmed, “I think he followed me yesterday too.”

“Let’s go inside.” He said, guiding you up to the door.

@nickysurfer28 @waywardodysseys @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

#andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x oc #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans

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vickyvicarious · 4 years ago

Note

Eliot sweet talking Nana into sharing her secret family recipes so he can get more vegetables into both Hardison and Parker.

I was just going to write a short headcanon post about this but then the first line popped into my mind along with a line about Eliot utilizing his retrieval skills, and then next thing I knew this was a fic. First in this fandom so go easy on me.

(AO3 link.)

The carrot cake was the final straw.

Eliot knew his partners had terrible diets, okay? It was impossible for anyone to miss that, the way Hardison would just fill up any empty space in any fridge with orange soda, or Parker would get more cereal than was physically possible to store in the cupboard until there was at least one box permanently sitting on the table. He was well aware, and he’d been taking steps for a while to deal with matters.

He bought Hardison a fridge of his own - a mini fridge - and just poured out any soda he found anywhere else. He impressed upon Parker that just this shelf was for cereal and solemnly swore to her that he would never let it get beyond half-empty before filling it again. In the meantime, he filled the rest of his kitchen with actual ingredients, and always had a bowl of fruit out so they would have something healthy as an easy-to-grab snack. He didn’t put anything Parker liked hidden on a high shelf, because she’d find that fun; just small decoy portions while he kept most of his chocolate inside an old Wheat Thins box at the back of the cracker shelf. Speaking of chips, if he opened the bag of a good brand, then Hardison would gravitate toward it once he’d finished his Cheetos instead of going out to buy more, so that was just a matter of letting him buy one bag and then watching the level and timing when to get the other stuff out.

They both ate meat well enough, though Hardison liked to put in requests for absolutely sacrilegious misuses of various cuts; when Eliot humored him and actually destroyed his fish or brisket or whatever else as requested, he actually did seem to enjoy it, which was... very wrong, and disappointing, but at least the food was still going in his body. Parker quite liked some types of pasta now, and she seemed to enjoy when he put effort into plating things up nicely, but she was still a work in progress on any actual mealtime like a family (or a date. Not that Eliot hadn’t had to eat on the run plenty of times before, but - he’d had to. You don’t walk in to a table set for multiple healthy, delicious, innovative courses he’d been cooking for hours and then just grab bites as you wander around the room! He’d had wine out! Norah Jones playing softly in the background! No candles because he wasn’t an idiot, but it was clearly a romantic meal! What the hell kind of untrained toddler behaviour-).

Breakfast was easy, since they both liked eggs and there were a lot of ways to go from there. Breakfast potatoes were a hit too, and bacon, and they’d even eat oatmeal if he smothered it in sugar so that was something. For lunch, Hardison at least appreciated a good sandwich. Granted, usually only a stolen one because he didn’t like to make any kind of food at all that didn’t come out of a plastic package with microwave instructions on the side (and that had been an argument for the ages, the microwave one. Frankly most things could be heated better on a pan or in an oven, and those that were meant for the microwave were usually mass-produced garbage Hardison really didn’t need in his diet, but he disagreed vehemently and in the end that was one battle Eliot had definitively lost), but once Eliot caught on, he just started making double whatever he ate. Parker scoffed at the idea of lunch, for some reason, claiming that a granola bar or a brownie would get her through till dinner, but if he packed a lunchbox to look interesting and then gave it to her, she’d usually eat it. He just stocked up on bento boxes and made various kinds of colorful and/or childish looking foods and they came back mostly empty so that was good enough.

(Hardison claimed to have gotten jealous about it. Eliot was pretty certain he was making fun of him, so obviously he said he’d be caught dead before packing a lunch for him. He was a grown man and could do it himself.

“She’s a grown woman!” he complained, pointing at Parker, who was sitting perched on the back of an armchair nibbling away at her kraken bento - black noodle limbs, gyoza face, and grabbing a little egg scuba diver. “Sh-she should have to - this is discrimination!”

“Stay away from my octopus,” she squinted menacingly. When Hardison just glared mulishly back, she hugged the food closer to her chest. “It’s not for you, this is my little dead man.”

She popped the egg into her mouth and chewed, never breaking eye contact.

He turned back to Eliot to complain some more, but apparently that was only an attempt to fake her out, because he tried to grab the gyoza barehanded and she screeched, flinging her chopsticks at his face before fleeing across the room. Noodles got everywhere, Hardison had two little round bruises on his cheek the next morning, and somehow Eliot wound up packing everyone lunches every morning after that, and putting notes on them to label who each one went to.

He did not put sappy notes instead the boxes. He wasn’t their parent, okay. The notes inside the lunch were only ever reminders they needed for the con, like Parker’s character’s peanut allergy and how she needed to have the attack exactly two minutes after the mark joined her at the break table, or for Hardison to lock Lucille II behind him because even if he could track down someone who took off in her, he really shouldn’t have to again.)

Anyway, Eliot had something of a system down at this point. It wasn’t perfect, but it was workable for the most part. The one exception was vegetables, which they both hated. He’d tried to hide them several times, but they often picked them out or he just couldn’t stand to puree broccoli into a little garnish/dip just because his girlfriend and boyfriend were both giant babies about actually eating them whole. He had to eat the food too, and he enjoyed himself some veggies like any sane person would. They ate the ones hidden in their lunches almost half of the time, and sometimes other varieties, so he tried not to focus on that too much. Baby steps, he thought. First regular meals at all, then vegetables later.

But the carrot cake.

That was just too much.

It was cake. It was covered in cream cheese frosting. Carrot cake wasn’t anything but decadent, at least not the way Eliot made it for Hardison’s birthday. It was sweet, had just the right texture from the roasted pecans, the perfect hint of cinnamon and ginger. Not a complicated dish by any means, but pretty well near perfect, in Eliot’s no goddamn need to be humble opinion.

Hardison scrunched up his nose.

“Oh,” he said, not accepting the large slice Eliot tried to give him. “Eliot, I’m hoping this is a joke and you have my Red Velvet in the fridge?”

Parker let him hand her the plate, ate a bite, spat it out, then just started eating straight frosting off all the sides.

Eliot could feel his hands twitching. He very carefully set down the knife.

“What’s wrong with my cake?” he asked. Gave them the benefit of the doubt, and tried a bite: delicious.

“I mean... it’s a carrot cake,” Hardison said delicately, as though Eliot had made some kind of mistake and he felt a little bad pointing it out to him.

“So?”

“Carrot, Eliot.”

“Cake, HARDISON.”

“I like the frosting,” Parker interjected, and Eliot glanced over to her. She’d moved on from her own plate and was just scraping fingerfuls of frosting directly off the top of the cake. His cake. His cake for Hardison’s birthday, his beautiful cake -

“Babe, we love you but you gotta know vegetables don’t have any place in a dessert, that’s just wrong. C’mon, you really didn’t make me something else? Really?”

“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!” Eliot bellowed and stormed out of the apartment. He took the cake with him.

He brought it to Sophie and Nate, since they were in town and they weren’t insane like some people he knew.

“People you’ve, uh, chosen to dedicate the rest of your life to,” Nate pointed out around a mouthful. “I mean, you knew what they were like.”

“Oh, hush, Nate, don’t you get it? They’ve hurt Eliot’s feelings,” Sophie explained. She ate another bite, hummed approvingly, then waved her fork around to emphasize her words: “For Eliot, food is life. He wants them to lead long and healthy lives, he wants to live with them and show his love for them and keep them safe, and they just rejected that. It’s not all about the vegetables, y’know?”

Eliot was never sure whether he loved Sophie best or least of all.

“It’s definitely all about the vegetables,” he said, crossing his arms. The pair of them exchanged a look and then smiled at him warmly, like he’d just done something cute.

“Fine! Forget it,” he snarled, pushing himself roughly to his feet.

Behind him, Nate grunted the distinctive grunt of someone receiving a pointy elbow to the side, then cleared his throat.

“Okay, okay - wait! Wait, all right, I might have one idea.” When he turned back, Nate was rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “You’ve tried featuring the veggies, right, and hiding them. I’m sure you’ve lectured them both to death about why they should be eating more vegetables, but that’s not going to work on them, is it, because there’s no connection there. Ad novitam is only going to get you so far, you need the, the personal touch, a little ad misericordiam if you will.”

“I am not telling them it makes me sad when they don’t eat their greens,” Eliot said firmly.

“But it does,” Sophie said lightly. She met his glare with a soft smile, and popped another bite of cake into her mouth.

“N- Well, no, obviously, but you’ve got to think it through, Eliot. Step away from the situation. How can you imbue the food itself with emotion? Not for you -” Nate spoke a little louder as Eliot started to answer, “you’re not our mark here. What kind of food, with vegetables, is going make them feel an emotional connection?”

Eliot subsided, frowning down at his own plate. That... was actually a pretty good point.

“Hm, my favorite is still that little restaurant in Paris, with the exquisite quiche. But, I suppose hard-scrambled eggs are a bit of a guilty pleasure,” Sophie mused. “Mum was never any good at cooking.”

“You too?” Nate turned to her. “Yeah, my dad could set water on fire. I remember eating from my meal plan at college - the cafeteria, mind you - thinking how good the food was in comparison.”

The solution clicked into place. (Of course it did, they’d practically hand-fed it to him.)

Eliot stood up and grabbed his coat.

“Oh, are you leaving, Eliot?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned back to smirk at them. “I’m gonna go steal Hardison’s childhood.”

Once upon a time, Eliot had been a retrieval specialist. You name it, he got it back. Sometimes it was actually a they or even a them, on occasion. He’d committed arson for a pair of scissors, had gathered up a scatted set of Fabergé eggs from seven different countries and two different mafias, had traveled more than once through airport security with a live frog in his pants. The business was a strange one, but he’d been the best at it. And in the years since he left, his life hadn’t exactly gotten less weird; Leverage saw to that.

Breaking into an old woman’s home and stealing a book of recipes would be easier than taking candy from a baby. Of course, Hardison made sure to keep his Nana safe, and from everything he’d heard she could certainly take care of herself, but still it wouldn’t be any great challenge for Eliot to just break in and take what he wanted. He could do it and leave without her ever knowing he’d even been there.

He rang the doorbell, and gave her his best smile when it swung open.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Eliot. Can I come in?”

(This was Hardison’s Nana, he’d never do wrong by her like that. Anyway, it wouldn’t even work. For this he needed her direct input.)

Nana was a short, soft-looking woman. Her hair was pushed back with a purple headband, and she wore loose comfortable pants and a clearly old t-shirt covered in child-sized paint handprints. She exuded a sort of maternal air that had Eliot relaxing into the visit almost despite himself. They’d only ever spoken on the phone, and he’d admittedly felt a little awkward about his plan due to that detail alone. He knew Hardison would love for them to meet her, but it just hadn’t happened yet - honestly, Eliot had been reluctant before, worried that she would find him wanting, and he’d always been relieved that no plans had crystallized into anything solid.

Certainly, despite welcoming him in and getting them all set up on the couch with home-made lemonades, it was clear she felt suspicious. A few minutes in, she dropped the small talk altogether to pin Eliot with a steely glare.

“I’m fairly certain Alec wanted to be here when we met so he could brag some more about how hot his partners are,” she said, making Eliot flush. “And I’m just as certain nothing has happened to him, or it wouldn’t be you here to tell me, so that just leaves me confused.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting him take his time responding.

He looked down at his lap. Ran a hand through his hair, feeling... not less confident that he’d get those recipes by the end of this visit, but certainly more bashful about it.

“Uh. Yes ma’am,” he said. Quickly corrected himself, remembering her insistence over the phone, “uh, Nana. See, he doesn’t actually... know I’m here...”

“I’d guessed as much,” she said wryly.

“Right. Um, I actually wanted to ask you something. There’s something I want to do for him - well, for them - but I need your help to do it right.”

She stared him down a moment longer. Then her eyes widened, and she sat back in her seat with a little gasp, hand over her heart.

“Oh, Eliot,” she said warmly, leaning forward again to grab his hand and hold it between hers, “Oh, sweet boy, of course he’ll say yes. You should hear the way he talks about you, Alec’s been head over heels for years. I may not have met Parker personally, but I’m sure she will too. You don’t have anything to worry about, trust me on that.”

“What?” he croaked. “I... w-what?”

His voice broke in his throat. He wanted to yank away but he felt frozen in place. He didn’t understand how she’d - okay, no, he could easily see how she would draw the wrong conclusions from this situation, but they were the wrong conclusions! He’d never even considered marriage since Aimee, let alone proposing to Parker and Hardison. It wasn’t like a three-way marriage was even legal, and even if it were he would never. It was too much - not too much commitment, he’d already promised the rest of his life to them both, but still too much, somehow. He’d never dare.

“I know Alec doesn’t think too much of the institution in general,” Nana said, waving a dismissive hand, “but if you do he’ll understand that. He might not need it but he won’t say no if you ask, hon. I can promise you that.”

Eliot meant to deny the very idea. Instead what came out of his mouth was a shaky:

“...Are you sure?”

Hardison’s Nana - his Nana too, she insisted, even after Eliot finally managed to clear up the misunderstanding - was truly a gem of a woman. He could see so much of who Hardison had turned out to be in her kindness, her cleverness, her sense of humor. She’d broken out the picture albums for him, and had even kindly let him keep one photo of a gaptoothed little Alec in a horrible bowl cut, grinning proudly and brandishing a blue ribbon next to his science project. To Eliot’s complete lack of surprise, he’d won every year with zero competition from his peers.

(He told her that he wanted the picture to make fun of Hardison with. It was true, but she still just patted him on the shoulder and told him to keep it. Didn’t say a word when he tucked it into his wallet with unnecessary care.)

They talked for a long time. She gave him a journal to copy directly from her personal recipe book, a lovely clothbound thing spattered with grease and burnt at one edge, smelling of spices and old paper; clearly well used. She told him it was passed down from her mother, who’d put in lots of her mother’s recipes. Eliot took notes as she talked him through every one. He had a good memory but he didn’t want to miss a thing, and her recipes as written were bare bones. He could cook a delicious meal from them easily enough, but it wouldn’t have her heart in it, not like what he wanted to make.

Just talking could only do so much, and eventually they found themselves in the kitchen, demonstrating techniques and favored spice blends. It was nice, just in and of itself. Eliot rarely got to talk shop with other cooks, and it had been a long time since he’d eaten anything home-made by someone else. Nana never went to school for this stuff, but clearly her long years of experience carried their own weight, because she knew what she was talking about.

It was late in the night by the time Eliot left her house, feeling himself flush to his ears as she kissed him on the cheek before waving until he’d driven away. And this after wrapping him up in a tight, warm hug just inside the front door.

“Alec’s done well for himself,” she said, and winked. “Now, next time I want you to bring that young lady of yours as well, you hear me? Make that a promise.”

“I will,” he said.

It was nearly three AM by the time he got home. Parker crashed out of the dark the second he stepped inside, clinging to him as he caught her midair.

“You made Hardison sad on his birthday,” she told him sternly, and headbutted him hard on the temple. As he winced, she pressed her nose down against his shoulder and took a long sniff. “You smell like lemons.”

“You made me sad on Hardison’s birthday,” Eliot sighed. “I mean, mad.”

“Doesn’t matter, you made him sad so I’m not sorry,” she said, and snuggled close.

Eliot carried her through the apartment, avoiding bumping into any furniture through the ease of experience, and into the bedroom. Hardison was sprawled across the mattress, fast asleep with a frown.

Setting Parker down, Eliot got undressed and climbed into the bed. He scooted behind Hardison, leaning up on an elbow to swipe a gentle thumb over the furrow between his brows. It came back, so he wiped at it again, and kissed Alec’s shoulder when he huffed a little and his face relaxed. Eliot kissed him one more time, then lay down behind him with an arm draped over his side.

Rather than going around the bed to the free space on Hardison’s other side, Parker crammed herself onto the mattress right behind Eliot, pushing him further into Hardison and determinedly spooning him.

He craned his neck up to look at her in the dark. She met his gaze solemnly and squeezed tighter, slipping a leg between his.

Eliot fell asleep warm, entangled in the two loves of his life.

He woke stinking hot, still entangled but a lot less happy about it. This happened every time he slept in the middle; he didn’t know why he kept letting it happen. Every single time he’d wake abruptly, heart thrumming in an instinctive alert to something wrong... Only to realize that something was just Parker drooling on his ear, or Hardison’s morning breath in his face, and (every time) both their limbs all wrapped up around him and each other in a very sweet, sweaty, and constricting mess.

The first few times he’d suffered through it, unwilling to wake them. Still basking in the fact that he was here, that he got to be a part of this. But Hardison slept like the dead, and Parker had the ability to wake up and go back to sleep pretty much indefinitely, so Eliot had no compunctions about shoving them aside anymore. He also knew that the other two were night owls who would happily sleep in to eight or even ten if left undisturbed. Eliot woke habitually at five regardless of how late he’d been up, maybe six at the latest; morning snuggles just really weren’t practical.

He wriggled free, clambering over Parker and catching her when the bed dipped and she nearly fell to the floor. Her eyes shot open, clocked him, then dropped shut as she went right back to sleep. He left them there and went to go take a shower, then wandered into the kitchen, grabbing up his new cookbook from his jacket pocket on the way.

Eliot was operating on only a couple hours of sleep; Nana didn’t exactly live next door, and he was frankly lucky he’d got out the cake relatively early in the afternoon, to be able to catch her awake at all. It wasn’t like he’d ruined Hardison’s whole birthday, just that last part they’d set aside for the three of them. They had already hung out with Nate and Sophie in the morning, and Hardison had a long phone call with Nana even before that. Parker had even given Hardison her present: a little statuette originally from a museum in Delhi if Eliot wasn’t mistaken. It was some god or something, but bore a striking resemblance to an Ewok, a detail she’d correctly guessed Hardison would love. He’d been planning on giving his present after the cake, at which point they were going to, on Hardison’s specific request, have a very normal and boring date at home. There had been a lot of jobs lately, so that must have tied into his desire for domesticity - that and ‘birthday rights’ to force them to watch all his nerd movies and lose at various video games.

They hadn’t planned anything for today either, so it wasn’t like those plans couldn’t still happen... And in fact yesterday hadn’t even been Hardison’s real birthday, just the replacement day they’d agreed to celebrate on when a con ran through the actual day. But in the cold light of day he felt a lot more stupid about taking a vegetable-related risk on Hardison’s cake, and then reacting stupidly when they didn’t like it. To be fair, he hadn’t considered it a risk at all, hadn’t even been thinking of his ongoing quest to feed them better so much as the fact that carrot cakes were good and he knew Hardison liked cream cheese frosting - but still. Sophie may have hit the nail on the head, but it was still a stupid and immature nail to let get in the way like he’d done.

He had to at least try to make it up to him.

Accordingly, the breakfast casserole Eliot put together was about as far removed from a healthy meal as any non-dessert in Nana’s cookbook. A baked blueberry French toast creation with lots of sugar, it actually was more of a dessert than anything else. It also took hours in the fridge, but that was alright; not the first time Eliot getting up so much earlier came in handy.

He took the time that it spent in the fridge to clean the apartment. He got out his gift to Hardison, swept and mopped and watered all the plants. Did some laundry, meditated a bit. Pretty much just puttered around for hours, steadily feeling worse and worse about his outburst the day before. Parker had been accepting if not forgiving, and didn’t need an explanation; Hardison might not feel the same. Eliot didn’t expect him to; he was the one clearly in the wrong. He really couldn’t regret the outcome of meeting Nana and getting her recipes, but it should have been on any other day.

He managed to time the casserole just to when the other two got up; just as Eliot pulled it from the oven, Parker wandered into the room.

“Ooh!” she said, and approached with a clear intent to stick her fingers directly into the hot food. Eliot intercepted her with a glare and a whap with his oven-mitt. She retaliated with a vicious pinch to the back of his hand and grabbed a blueberry off the top, tossing it into her mouth and wincing as she burnt herself chewing it.

“Quit that, it’s Hardison’s,” he told her.

“Hardison!” Parker yelled in what appeared to be terror, because of course she would. “I need your help right now!”

He came tumbling into the room, still only half-dressed and clumsily wielding Parker’s taser at the couch. When he saw only the two of them calmly watching him, he attempted to hide it behind his back.

“Oh hey, what’s up everyone,” he said nonchalantly. “Breakfast? Awesome. Smells like something Nana used to make.”

Parker went over and kissed him as she stole the taser out of his hand. She held it up in front of his face.

“Mine,” she scolded.

“Hey, I was ready to defend your life,” Hardison said, mock-offended. “What, you want me to run into an ambush empty-handed? Come on, baby, look who you’re talking to.”

“If you’d let Eliot teach you MMA like me then -”

“Then what, you’d use it as an excuse to choke me out again? I know what you’re after, I recognize that look in your eyes -”

“Hey, come’n eat.” Eliot put two full plates of breakfast casserole down on the island. He braced himself, ready for Hardison to keep giving him the silent treatment or outright call him out on his behavior.

It didn’t happen.

“Morning Eliot,” he said as he came over to grab a stool. He leaned across the island; when Eliot was too surprised to meet him halfway, he rolled his eyes and reached out a hand to grab his face and pull it close enough for a quick kiss. Then he plopped down into his seat, inhaling deeply at his food. “Oh man, this smells exactly like Nana’s Blueberry Thing, I loved that as a kid. How’d you know?”

Eliot slowly sank down from his tiptoes. His stomach hurt a little from being yanked up against the edge of the island, his lips still felt the impression of Hardison’s. He... really didn’t understand.

“Uh, Nana said you liked it best,” he replied a little too woodenly. Neither of his partners seemed to notice.

“You been talkin’ to her without me?” Hardison asked, before taking a bite and moaning. It wasn’t a sex moan - Eliot knew what those sounded like - but it was damn near. “Did you turn into her? What the hell, this is it, this is the Blueberry Thing!”

Parker was at her own plate the moment Eliot said Nana; she was always fascinated by any mention of the woman, and would probably taze him for meeting her first. Right now, she was digging into her own plate, eyes closed.

Eliot cut himself a serving too and sat down to eat with them. He felt tentative, somehow, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Went to talk to her last night. Got some recipes.”

The food was good. Sweet, warm, filling; clearly a comfort meal. He dug in.

When he looked up, Parker and Hardison were both staring at him. She opened her mouth, paused, and then fell silent with a glance to Hardison. He was staring at Eliot, mouth open.

“What the hell, hon?”

Eliot clenched his jaw. He knew what he should say. He’d spent all morning prepping himself to say it.

“...You never opened my present,” he said instead.

Hardison squinted at him.

“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna without you there,” he said pointedly.

“Right, well, here,” Eliot said and shoved it his direction before going back to his food. He could feel them staring at him but didn’t lift his head, kept shoveling bite after bite into his mouth as he heard Hardison final tearing at the wrapping paper, grumbling incoherently to himself.

A moment later, the angry mumbles got louder when he opened the first box to reveal the second one.

By the time Hardison got down to the final layer, a small paper booklet six boxes in, Parker was snickering rudely and his muttering was about half swear-words. Eliot still didn’t look up, kept waiting until Hardison actually read the gift.

(He’d thought it would be funny, obviously. He’d thought it would be hilarious, to watch Hardison getting more and more irritated by the wrapping paper. And he knew the gift itself wasn’t anything much, but Eliot usually prided himself on being good at getting people things they didn’t know they wanted, or didn’t think they’d ever get. He knew it was childish and kind of stupid right from the jump, but money didn’t really mean too much to Hardison, and he was confident he’d love this.

After his behavior last night, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Immaturity took on a different tone right now.)

“‘Eliot Tickets,’“ he heard Hardison read off slowly, then - “no.”

He glanced up sharply, but it’d been a sound of delight. Hardison’s eyes were wide and he was flipping through the pages rapidly with an ever-widening grin.

“No nerd jokes for twenty-four hours, back massage, favorite food, favorite sex, get-out-of-scolding free, dessert for dinner, oh my god Comic-Con?! Get to play with your hair, get to pick your cover, computer lessons, videogames, sleeping in, what kind of goldmine is this -”

Parker leaned over his shoulder as he kept going, pointing out her favorites as they worked their way quickly through the rest of the little booklet. It wasn’t horrendously long, but long enough: one ticket for every year. Twenty-eight in all.

Twenty-nine, including the piece of paper Eliot had slipped in front of the last page at seven-thirty this morning, before carefully re-wrapping every box.

“‘One I’m sorry,’” Parker read out loud. She met Eliot’s eyes as she asked, “Are you gonna use it?”

Hardison hummed thoughtfully, then picked it up to reveal the last page.

“No, I’mma save this for just the right time,” he said, waving it in the air. He looked Eliot in the eye and smirked meaningfully. “You messed up, man, you didn’t put an expiration date on any of these.”

“Dammit,” Eliot grumbled, like he’d just realized.

(It hadn’t been a mistake.)

“Don’t need that right now anyway,” Hardison continued, tucking it back into the middle of the book. “This, on the other hand - this one I’m cashing in now.”

Eliot took the little piece of paper Hardison ripped free. He sighed.

“Really?”

“Hell yes, now get in here - and no complaining, them’s the rules you made your own self. You too, Parker, c’mere.”

Eliot stood up and rounded the island, halting with a sigh just before reaching Hardison, who stood to meet him. He ripped the coupon in half.

“All right, here goes.”

Tucking the pieces into his pocket, Eliot stepped forward into Hardison’s outstretched arms, tucking himself in close and hugging him back tightly. A moment later, he felt Parker collide with them both, one arm over his shoulders and a leg around his hips. He sighed again, this time into Hardison’s shoulder, and let himself sway when they did, a gentle rock back and forth.

He closed his eyes when they started to sting.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into Hardison’s shoulder after a long minute. “Shouldn’ta left.”

“That does not count, Eliot,” Hardison told him firmly, and didn’t let go. “I did not use my coupon, I still got my coupon, you aren’t getting out of anythin’ with that you hear me?”

Parker snickered behind him.

“Not getting out of anything at all,” she said, and squeezed tighter. “We’ve got you trapped.”

(The next time he fed them vegetables, it was a Nana recipe and Hardison ate without complaint. Parker ate because she wanted to know what it felt like to be a little Hardison, and proclaimed the experience ‘like one of my harnesses’ which was obviously a very positive review.

The next time he fed them vegetables and it wasn’t a Nana recipe, they exchanged a look and then each ate exactly half of their servings. The rest they snuck back onto Eliot’s plate one bite at a time like he wouldn’t notice. He let them get away with it and looked down at everyone’s empty plates afterward with a weird content feeling relaxing his shoulders.

The next time he saw Nana, her words on Hardison’s bragging proved embarrassingly correct. She and Parker got along like a house on fire, and if left alone too long would probably cause a house on fire, and Hardison just watched them with a giant grin like he didn’t see the danger. Nana asked Eliot if he’d considered what they talked about last time right in front of them both, proving beyond all doubt that she shared Hardison’s love of driving him goddamn crazy for fun.

The next carrot cake he made was for Sophie and Nate. He refused to call it a thank you, but she did and also asked him to make that little French quiche she’d talked about like she honestly expected “it had spinach, I think, something green anyway, it was very light, and some kind of unexpected spice too?” would be enough to go on. Nate was no help whatsoever.)

#leverage fic #leverage ff #leverage ot3 #hardison/parker/eliot #thiefsome #my fic #anonymous #replies #aah they are hard to write much as i love them

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 67 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Bianca introduced the world to her scandalous new girlfriend (in spite of strong disapproval from her friends, especially Fame), and Violet worried about Sutan’s friends accepting her.

This Chapter: Team Adult gather at Fame and Patrick’s for their annual chosen-family Christmas party.

***

“No, no, not that one!” Fame stepped in front of the catering girl, picking up the wine glass she had just put on the dining room table. Fame held it up, catching the rim of it on the light, a smudge of white haze clearly clinging to the glass.

“Look at this!” Fame handed it to the woman, “Rewash. Now.”

The girl ran off, and Fame sighed, annoyance at the inconvenience of it all crawling under her skin. It was incredible how she always had to go through everyone's work with a fine-tooth comb, the ability to do things right the first time worryingly rare.

The dining room was almost complete, a crisp white table cloth spread out, glittering baubles in silver and glass placed in between plates and cutlery.

They would start the evening in the parlor, the bartender she had hired ready to make drinks for everyone as waiters moved through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres. After that, they’d come here to the dining room for dinner, while dessert would be served in the living room.

Fame had perfected the seating chart, making sure to put Raja and Sutan on separate ends of the table so they wouldn’t speak Indonesian all night, Karl and Raven kept separate as well so they wouldn’t snap at each other, while Bianca had been sat as far away from Detox as possible so he couldn’t question her about anything related to the very unfortunate situation of Courtney.

(Fame had every expectation that it would all crash and burn, and honestly, the sooner it happened the better, Bianca’s newest brain damage doomed to fail from the start.)

She moved a fork with the tip of her finger, making sure it was perfectly straight, another wave of annoyance rolling over her at the thought.

“Having a good time?”

Fame looked over her shoulder, just to see Patrick stand in the doorframe, a smile on his face, his hair still wet from the shower he had taken after Charles’ evening walk. He was wearing the outfit she had put out for him, the blue wool sweater making him look absolutely fantastic, the new chinos she had ordered perfect on his legs.

“Are you giving me attitude too?” Fame fought the impulse to roll her eyes, Patrick always poking fun at her attention to detail, even though he never complained when she made sure their life ran like clockwork.

“Oh never,” Patrick pushed away from the door, the smile still on his face as he walked over. “But you deserve it sometimes.”

“You’re so fortunate I promised for better or worse when we got married.”

“If this is for worse,” Patrick leaned in, placing a sweet kiss on her lips. “I’m sure I can manage.”

***

Karl braced himself from the cold as he pressed down the doorbell, a piece of opera he didn’t recognize playing out because Fame never did anything halfway, ever.

He had come directly from London, only stopping at his hotel for a quick shower and a change of clothes, the catnap he had taken in his first class seat barely enough to tide him over. He’d planned a week in New York to see his friends and get some work stuff done with the American head office of Elite before going home for Christmas with his family.

The door opened, and Karl looked up to see Patrick stand there, a big smile on his face.

“Karl!”

“So good to see you,” Karl smiled, responding to the tight hug Patrick gave him, the man quickly taking his coat and directing him upstairs to the parlor.

It was always exciting to see what theme Fame had gone with, the live string quartet that was seated in a corner promising him one of her more extravagant moods.

In spite of his desire to always play it cool, a smile immediately broke out on his face at the sight of his friends.

God, he had really missed them.

Raja and Detox were standing near an enormous white Christmas tree decorated with silver ribbons and glass baubles, the usual Persian rug exchanged for a pure white one he was fairly certain had been bought just to fit this year's Christmas aesthetic.

“Raja, De!” Karl grinned, his friends greeting him with hugs, Raja pressing a kiss against his cheek, the patchouli scent that always clung to her wonderfully familiar. She was wearing a blue suit with a deep neckline, several golden necklaces hanging from her neck, one of them so long it was tucked between her tits. She was stunning as always, but he loved Raja’s bitchiness most of all. The years had made her more diplomatic,however, the judgemental asshole was still in there--now, it just took a cocktail or three to get her out.

“Love the hair,” Karl raised an eyebrow, trying to convey how sarcastic that compliment was, Detox’s hair a shade of bright, fire-engine red. “Dyed it for the holidays?”

“How’d you know?” Detox smirked. He was reliably the worst-dressed in every room, tonight donning a red velour blazer, white shirt, red bowtie and white pants, hair only slightly more horrible than the entire ensemble. “It’s gone over better than the Halloween green.”

“Much better,” Raja drawled with a grimace, and they all laughed, which drew Fame over.

“Karl!” Fame smiled, opening her arms. “Oh look at you!” She pulled him in for a hug, pressing a kiss against his cheek, her hands as always surprisingly cold.

“Look at you,” Karl took a step back, holding Fame’s hands in his so she wouldn’t run away, Fame constantly fretting and correcting in her evergoing quest to be the perfect hostess. “Fucking stunning.”

Fame giggled, the flattery clearly getting to her, and Karl couldn’t help but love her. She was wearing her signature white, a structured dress ending just above her knees, the neckline classy and sexy, her blonde hair in a curly updo.

“Where’s your drink?” Fame tilted her head, her teeth biting into her red lip.

“I’ll go get one.” Karl released her, making his way across the room, but first stopping when he saw Adore. She was in a black dress and her typical loosely-tied combat boots, hovering over a waiter to snag appetizers from his tray. It was comforting, Karl realized, how much these people never changed.

“It might be time,” Karl slung an arm around her neck, his cufflinks almost catching on her hair, “to start paying a little attention to your diet, hon.”

“It’s the holidays,” Adore grinned, her mouth full, and Karl couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to listen to me,” Karl released her with a shrug. “But when you’re fat, I will have no sympathy.”

“I just love you fashion people,” Adore rolled her eyes. “Obsessed with superficial nonsense.”

“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, my dear,” Karl smiled.

“Well that’s a fucking lie,” Adore grinned, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she took his arm and led him towards the couches. “Have you ever had the cheddar biscuits at Red Lobster? Or any form of fried cheese?”

“Oh god,” Juju groaned, already sitting amongst the plush white pillows, her belly basically a perfect ball on her tiny frame. “I would kill for those cheddar biscuits right now. But I guess I’ll settle for you...Hi, stranger!”

Juju reached her arms up towards Karl and he laughed, bending over to kiss her cheek.

“Nice to see you too, Juju. You’re looking...uh…”

“I’m a fucking whale, you can say it,” Juju sighed, shaking her head.

“Nah, it takes all the fun out of it when you say it first,” Karl told her with a cheeky grin.

“Leave her alone, bitch! She’s glowing and gorgeous!” Raven came up behind them, looking exactly like the supermodel she was, not a hair or an inch of fabric out of place. She handed a full plate of appetizers to Juju, adding, “Here you go, love.”

“Really? You didn’t have to!” Juju smiled brightly, taking the plate. “You’re the best.”

“Come on Juju,” Karl grinned, tapping her leg. “You know she’s only doing that in case she ever gets pregnant, so we all have to kiss her ass and wait on her hand and foot.”

“Hey!” Raven exclaimed, a hand on her hip. “I resent that.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well, no.” Raven laughed, leaning over to give Karl a hug and a kiss.

They chatted for a bit, catching up on everything that had happened since he was last in New York. If anyone had told him twenty years ago that his closest friend group would be mostly lesbian women and straight couples, he’d have laughed in their face. But now, years later, here he was, hearing about Adore’s newest lesbian punk band, Juju’s pregnancy, and Raven’s search for the perfect wedding invitations.

“Karl!” He turned around to see Fame, arms crossed and brow furrowed, voice scolding as she asked, “You still don’t have a drink?”

“Sorry, sorry!” He laughed, making a sweeping gesture towards Adore, Raven and Juju. “I guess I just got distracted by all this feminine grace and beauty.”

“Eat a dick!” Adore retorted, mouth full once again.

“Happily,” he shot back. “Who’s serving?”

Fame wrinkled her nose, taking Karl by the shoulders and gently guiding him towards the bar, where he was met by a bizarre sight, Patrick and Bianca standing side by side and chatting, both smiling and drinking what looked to be schnapps.

Karl had honestly expected Bianca to be public enemy number one of the friend group right now. Raja had caught him up in an email after he saw the pictures of Bianca with her newest blonde, who was apparently Fame’s assistant, Raja always the one to go to if you needed a detailed update on the alliances and altercations in the friend group.

He wouldn’t lie--he was a bit excited to witness the drama of it all. Unfortunately, in this moment, everything seemed disappointingly copacetic.

He was just about to say hello to Bianca when a blood-curdling scream came from upstairs. Detox took off, running up the stairs two at a time to attend to whichever one of his twins was having a meltdown.

When Kelly was little, Karl understood why they had to drag her around to events. But now, both Detox and Juju had established careers and plenty of money to afford child care at home, so it made no sense to him that they were there with the nanny instead of home with the nanny--though at least they knew enough to keep them blessedly out of sight, probably parked in front of a TV upstairs.

“Jesus christ,” Bianca groaned, and Karl nodded, the screams of children surely their own category of horrible.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he chuckled, and Bianca grinned, pulling him in for a hug.

“We need to get him a drink,” Fame said to the bartender, apparently unable to relax until he was properly lubricated.

“You’re been spending a lot of energy trying to get me drunk,” Karl said. “You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?”

Bianca guffawed. “You two would truly be a match made in hell, huh?”

“You’d know all about matches made in hell, wouldn’t you?” Karl asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Bianca narrowed her own eyes at him for a second, then laughed slightly, shaking her head. “Good one, bitch.”

“Karl,” Fame whined, gesturing towards the bartender.

“Alright, alright. Uh, can I just get a triple tequila on the rocks?” He turned to Fame, asking, “Happy? This’ll catch me up quick.”

Fame gave a satisfied nod, but then Karl was distracted by his name being called from across the room.

“Karl!”

Karl turned around to see Sutan at the top of the stairs and he instantly abandoned everyone at the bar to go greet him.

“It’s so good to see you!” Sutan smiled brightly, pulling him into the tightest hug and holding him close, the two men locked in an embrace.

Karl had really truly missed Sutan, emailing or calling not the same as actually being with his friend, even though they were in contact almost every single day. He was so overjoyed that he almost didn’t notice the dark-haired woman standing at Sutan’s side, a pair of crutches under her arms.

“Violet, this is Karl, one of my closest friends who unfortunately abandoned us to go live in London,” Sutan said, punching him affectionately on the arm. “Karl, meet Violet.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Violet said, balancing one of her crutches to shake his hand.

If anything positive could be said about Sutan’s dreadful taste in women, it was that they generally had a strong sense of personal style, and this one was no exception. She wore a deep green dress with a high neck and long sleeves, the cut flattering on her slender frame and hiding her cast.

For a moment, he was almost impressed- until he noticed that she was barely paying him any attention, her eyes all over the room behind him like she was looking for something.

“You too, Violet,” Karl said. “I love this dress. Is it Versace?”

“Yes.” Violet glanced at Sutan, who put an arm around her, looking very proud of the incredibly mediocre first impression his girlfriend had just made. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” After a moment of awkward silence, Karl gave a tense smile.

Good lord, this girl was dull as rocks.

It never failed to astound him how Sutan wound up with such basic bitches. He supposed that it had something to do with how laid-back he was: he almost never chose the girls; they chose him.

Although if his idiotic grin could be believed, he was strangely gaga over this one.

Karl knew he should have told him to just call Violet back in September, being ignored by her clearly terrible for Sutan’s critical thinking skills and decision making.

“Karl, you left without your drink,” Fame said, handing over the glass, and suddenly Karl was grateful for her relentless hounding, taking a huge swallow and letting the tequila burn down his throat.

“So…” Karl looked back at Violet. “I hear you two have been shacking up.”

He loved Sutan with his entire heart, but the man wasn’t easy to live with since he always put work first, wasn’t easy to be around - not even with a broken foot. But if Sutan’s emails were to be believed, there hadn’t been any issues at all, which meant Karl had to do his own digging.

“How’s that going?”

“It’s been great,” Sutan laughed, “Right, lovely eyes?”

Karl had to use all of his strength not to retch at that particular nickname, studying Violet’s reaction. Upon closer inspection, her face was not quite as pretty as she looked at first glance, especially the set of her lips--resting bitch face was an understatement, everything about her mean and distant.

“Yes. Great.”

Karl couldn’t pinpoint it, but her tone was terrible, dry and uninterested, like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Can I-” Violet looked around the room. “I need to sit down-”

“Right. Sorry!” Sutan looked around, spotting empty seats near the bar. “Come on Karl!”

***

Bianca wandered towards the girls with her drink in hand, dropping a kiss to the top of Juju’s head before gesturing to the sofa.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead!” Juju smiled up at her, one of her hands resting on her belly, “Although at the rate I’m growing, there may not be room for you much longer.”

“Ha!” Bianca sat down, placing her drink on the side table. “So I guess I shouldn’t ask how you’re feeling?”

“I’m feeling like a cow,” Jujubee complained, though she was rubbing her thumb up and down, gently petting her belly. “Thank God this is the last one, and that there is only one this time. Another set of twins would have killed me.”

“I’m very glad to say I can’t relate,” Bianca laughed.

“Oh, come on, Bianca, you’ve been a mother,” Raven said, her voice silky smooth, lashing fluttering as she continued, “I mean you practically raised Adore and just adopted a new baby, right?”

Bianca knew, of course, that this was Raven’s sad attempt at a joke about Courtney’s age, and she rolled her eyes, asking, “Wanna get to the punchline, cunt?”

“There’s no punchline! I just think you’re a great person for being so generous with today’s youth,” Raven said proudly, and Bianca responded with another eye roll.

“Where is your little conquest tonight, anyway?” Juju asked, sitting up straight as Detox came back down the stairs, thankfully without a toddler on his arm.

“Working.”

“Oh...what a shame,” Raven clucked. “I was really looking forward to having her catch me up on Sesame Street.”

“Princess please, she’s obviously watching a big girl show like Dora the Explorer,” Raja cut in, settling down beside Raven on the loveseat.

“You know what, you’re both assholes.”

“Maybe we just think you can do better, Bibi,” Raja shrugged, putting an arm around Raven.

“Exactly,” Fame piled on, perching delicately in a chair. “I mean for god’s sake, Bianca, I’ve seen her wear neon. You can’t be with someone like that.”

“Yeah, well, neons are back,” Bianca grumbled.

“Neons are great,” Detox grinned, settling beside his wife. “Very in amongst high schoolers.”

Bianca attempted a smile, but it came out more like a sneer. She’d been expecting this, of course, but it was still annoying. She looked around, craning her neck to try and spot her sister.

Where was Adore? Surely she’d be just as annoyed at everyone talking shit about her best friend, but she was probably sneaking a cigarette on the back terrace or hiding upstairs with the kids.

“I think she’s great,” Juju said, and Bianca was grateful for at least one person on her side, ignoring the eye rolls from the peanut gallery as Juju continued, “She’s sweet, smart, spunky, I totally get why you like her.”

“Thank you! See, this is why you’re my favorit-”

“But she’s too young for you,” Juju finished, and Bianca scoffed. She should have known there’d be a ‘but’ coming.

“I’ve always hated you,” she said flatly, taking a swig of her wine as the others laughed. “But come on. She’s in her 20s, what’s the big deal?”

“She’s on the wrong end of her 20s,” Juju said with a light grimace, Detox nodding at her side.

“No, she isn’t. She went to school with Adore. So she’s what, mid 20s? That’s not even-”

“She’s 21,” Adore said, choosing that moment to return, flopping down onto the floor next to the sofa with a full plate of snacks, casually adding. “She graduated early.”

“When are you flying to New Orleans again?” Bianca asked, and Adore laughed.

“Listen, don’t be mad at me. I totally ship it; you know that,” Adore said, handing Bianca a napkin with a mini quiche as an apology.

Bianca took it, chucking her sister on the cheek before barreling on.

“By the way, you’re all a bunch of hypocrites, because nobody gave Tan shit like this when he started dating Violet!" Bianca gestured towards the bar where Sutan and Violet were chatting with Karl and Patrick.

“Wait, we didn't give him shit?” said Juju. “Oh man, I gotta think of some jokes.”

“Bianca, listen,” Fame said. “The real problem is that she’s barely competent-”

“Rude,” Adore muttered, and Bianca rewarded her loyalty with a shoulder squeeze.

“I’m just saying, she already has enough trouble focusing on her work. I don’t need you breaking her heart,” Fame said pointedly.

“Look, she really has improved since she first started,” Raja said, continuing with an arrogant wave of her hand. “I see her growth, as minimal as it is to me. I just don’t think this is the best idea you’ve had regarding relationships.”

“Duly noted,” Bianca snapped, gripping her glass tightly, more than ready to change the subject.

When they finally moved on, she did her best to follow the conversation about everyone’s vacation plans, but found herself still feeling tense and irritated. She excused herself from the group to go get another drink, then instead headed upstairs to have a moment of peace and quiet.

***

Courtney pulled her coat tighter around herself, grateful that at least she now had protection from the freezing cold wind and rain whipping around her. It had been a long couple of days--weather miserably gray, full of stressful end-of-year fire drills. She’d finally finished putting together the long list of Miss Fame’s business contacts so that she could approve gifts and holiday cards, and was anxious to get home.

Her stomach clenched when her phone began to buzz in her handbag, praying that it wouldn’t be some urgent task that required her to turn around and go back to the office. Surely Miss Fame had her hands full tonight with her party.

When she saw that it was Bianca calling, a big smile broke out on her face. She stepped under an awning to answer.

“B! Hi!” Courtney exclaimed, “I figured you’d be busy with your friends all night.”

“I decided to take a break from the festivities,” Bianca said flatly, and Courtney laughed.

“Having fun, huh?” She tilted her head, hand twirling a lock of hair.

“Oh yeah. What about you? Are you still at work?”

“No, I’m walking to the train,” Courtney said.

“How would you feel about hopping into a cab and coming to my place instead?” Bianca asked.

Courtney looked at the time on her phone, confused. There was no way they already ate dinner, it was barely 8.

“Aren’t you gonna be there for awhile?”

“I think I’m gonna skip out early,” Bianca said with a sigh. “I’m just not feeling it tonight. So, whaddaya say? Thai?”

“Are you sure?” Courtney asked, holding her breath. Of course, dinner and an evening with Bianca was about a thousand times better than the night of cup-o-noodles and Netflix on her phone that she had planned, but she also knew how important Bianca’s friends were to her. “I don’t want to take you away from them if-”

“I’m sure. Please come. I really want to see you.”

Warmth filled Courtney’s chest as she took a deep breath, her smile now so big that it threatened to crack her face in two.

“I’m on my way.”

“Great. See you soon, angel.”

***

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fame demanded, a hand on her hip. She’d noticed Bianca slip from the room earlier and had followed her, her friend now coming downstairs, coat on and cell phone in hand.

Bianca looked down at Fame, a slightly guilty expression on her face and Fame instantly felt her stomach clench.

“I’m...I’m sorry, blondie, I’m just not feeling up for the whole thing tonight.” She let out a sigh, adding, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already,” Fame informed her, brow furrowed. She had no idea why Bianca was being like this. Of all people, Fame would think that she’d be the first one to be able to take a few jokes about her ill-fated relationship.

She’d certainly dished it enough to all of them over the years.

“Well, I am,” Bianca said, but made no move to remove her coat or put it back as she came down the last few steps, still clearly planning to leave.

“Wait Bianca, what about dinner?” Fame exclaimed, finding it easier to focus on food than her feeling of being abandoned by someone she considered her closest friend on such an important night, her stomach in knots. “We haven’t even had the first course!”

“Would you rather I left in the middle of the meal?” Bianca asked.

“No, I would rather you stayed and had a good time and stopped being so...so…” Fame was looking for the words, anger and fear and worry swirling in her guts.

“Please,” Bianca pressed a kiss to Fame’s cheek. “I’ll owe you one, okay?”

“No. No. This is not okay!” Fame burst out, refusing to accept how this conversation was going, how Bianca was being so incredibly selfish, the fact that she already owed her several ‘ones’ clearly forgotten by her friend. “It’s not okay. I really don’t understand this, we’re just looking out for you.”

“I know. But I’d rather skip ahead to the part where you guys are happy for me.” Bianca sighed, rolling her eyes, and it hit Fame like a punch to the stomach. “Which I assume you will be, eventually.”

Fame groaned. It seemed like Bianca was determined to take this little fling way too seriously, daring to prioritize someone completely new over all of them.

Fame only hoped that when it all crashed and burned, she’d have a functioning office. She shook her head, resigned to the fact that Bianca really was leaving early, skipping out on what was usually her favorite night of the year.

“Merry Christmas, blondie.”

“Merry Christmas,” Fame grumbled back, barely patting her on the back when Bianca hugged her goodbye.

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crmsfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Second Chances-Chapter 6

Authors Note: Once again some heavy stuff in this chapter. Mentions of eating issues and emotional and mental abuse. Please read with caution.

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Chapter 6: Revelations

Sebastian was watching TV relaxing, when Willa finally stirred in the other bed. He had wanted to curl up with her, but didn’t want to risk upsetting her. He also had his girlfriend to think about. He knew he’d fucked up, by rushing to Mina’s side, but he’d been hoping for so long that she’d forgive him. They needed to have a long talk about everything that happened. He had made the decision while Mina was sleeping that he was going to break up with Margarita and beg Willa to take him back or at the very least start over in their friendship.

“Baz?” Willa called out as she slowly shifted in the bed. “I’m here Mina. What do you need?” Sebastian said as Willa opened her eyes and looked over at him. “In my make-up bag there should be some Tylenol and Motrin. Can I have two Motrin and one Tylenol please?”

“Can you take both together?” Sebastian asked as he headed for the bathroom and grabbed her make-up bag. He riffled through it coming up with the two bottles of medicine. “Technically yes, but you really shouldn’t. Right now I don’t care. I hurt and they will help.” Willa said as she pushed herself up to a sitting position groaning as her ribs protested the movement. Sebastian handed her the pills and a glass of water. Willa quickly downed the meds and set the glass of water on the bedside table.

“Are you hungry? We could take-out from the BBQ place or something else?” Sebastian asked as he settled back down on the other bed. Shrugging, Willa made a noncommittal noise. Sighing Sebastian pulled out his phone and pulled up a local pizza place. It was her favorite, as close to New York as she could get around here and ordered a large pepperoni with extra cheese.

“Pizza will be here in about an hour.”

“From Pink Door? You remembered my favorite?”

“Of course. I remember all your favorites. Lilacs and lavender dahlias are your absolute favorite flowers, though you still love red and yellow roses as a close second. You love all genres of music, but 90s grunge is what you listen too when your stressed out or pissed off. Prince is still your favorite artist of all time. I could go on.” Sebastian said as he listed a few of her favorites. Willa laughed. “No stop. I get it. You remember. I still remember all your favorites too.”

“I also know that you still look better in my clothes than I do.” Sebastian said quietly as he looked at the shirt hanging off her frame. She’d lost a good bit of weight from the last time he’d seen her. At 5’8 she wasn’t a tiny person. He’d always loved her curves, but now he was hard pressed to even see any of them with the way she looked now. Even he knew she was starving, whether by choice or force he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, I realized it was your old shirt after I put it on. I’d honestly forgotten I had it. I haven’t worn it in years. Tony hated Prince. We could only listen to the latest stuff. The newest hits.” Willa said as she pulled the shirt tighter around her frame. It had gotten a lot looser than it used to be on her. Tony used to pick at her weight all the time, though she wasn’t overweight by any stretch of the imagination. Anytime they would sit down to eat, he would ask her if she’d planned on eating all that, or if they were in public he would glare at her if she ate more than half of the food on her plate. Soon it turned to him ordering for her. She wasn’t allowed more than a side salad and water in a restaurant. At home he’d fix her plate and only put a few bites of everything she’d fixed on her plate, while he would fill his.

She was starting to see how badly Tony had her fucked up in the head and knew she would need to get into a therapist to help her sort out and break through his conditioning. She couldn’t believe that she’d allowed him to treat her like this, though looking back even this short time later she could see it was subtle and vicious. She’d been a prime target for him. She knew she was naive to the world in a lot of ways. She’d been sheltered for a lot of her life. She didn’t blame her parents, they had only wanted to protect her.

“Mina hon, you still with me?” Sebastian asked as he watched several different emotions play across her face as she gazed at the wall. Shaking her head Willa looked over at Sebastian. “Yeah I’m still here. Sorry was thinking. I need a therapist.”

“That is a good idea. I know it helps me to talk with mine when I am having trouble. I can call mine tomorrow and see who he would recommend that is taking new patients.”

“Really? Thank you Baz. I appreciate it. So How much longer before pizza is here? Do we have time to go get some beer or wine?” Sebastian checked his watch. “I think we have time to run down to the store. Let me go and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Willa nodded as she handed him the room key. He pulled his hat down low over his face and and slid on his sunglasses as he left the room. Willa flipped through the channels until she found the history channel. It was showing about Egypt and the Pharaohs. It was the type of program that was good for background noise and you didn’t need to really pay attention to it.

Twenty minutes Sebastian was back with some of her favorite wine and he’d even gotten her a dove chocolate bar. It wasn’t the best chocolate, but it was a guilty pleasure. He really did remember her favorites. He’d grabbed a 6 pack of Heineken for himself. It wasn’t his go too, but it was the best he could find around here. Ten minutes after he’d gotten back their pizza had arrived and they were digging in. Willa took the smallest piece and had taken three small bites, when she claimed she was full.

“Mina hon, I don’t want to overstep, but I’m concerned. You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you. Please don’t be afraid to eat. I know you love this pizza. You used to demolish a medium by yourself. I always loved how you weren’t afraid to eat what you wanted and how much. This isn’t you.” Sebastian sighed as he looked at her scared expression.

“I know, but he used to criticize my weight and body. He got into my head. Always told me I wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t thin enough. It will take time to feel like food isn’t being used to control me.�� Willa said sadly as she stared at the pizza in front of her. She wanted to eat it, but Tony’s voice was in her head telling her that she was too fat and didn’t need to eat it. She picked up the slice in front of her and took a bigger bite. She wouldn’t allow him to control her anymore.

“Mina you’ve NEVER been fat! You have always been a healthy weight. You’re tall. You naturally need more weight to look healthy. You couldn’t have been more than 150 when we dated if you were even that much.” Sebastian said as he hugged her as tight as he dared, being careful of her ribs.

Willa pulled away from him and shook her head. “I know, but he was a master manipulator Baz. I let him beat me down mentally and it will take a very long time to get through that. I can try to push past it, but I can’t do it alone. I can’t be who I was Baz. Who you are hoping I’ll be. I’m not the girl you walked away from a decade ago. I’ll never be that girl again. I don’t even know all the abuse he put me through mentally and emotionally. This is why we can’t ever be together. I know your hoping for that, but the free-spirited wild child isn’t who I am anymore. I grew up in the past few years. The girl you loved is gone. The woman in front of you now is beaten down and broken. She may never fully recover from this.”

“I’m not hoping for anything, other than your forgiveness. I know I messed up all those years ago and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I still hope I can have it. I want my friend back. In fact I have a girlfriend. We’ve been together for about a year now. She is in Atlanta waiting for me.” Sebastian said as he tried to hide the hurt of her words. He knew he didn’t deserve her in any way shape or form.

“Baz I forgave you a long time ago. We can try to be friends, but you have to give me time and space. Also I’m glad you have someone. I never wanted you to be sad and lonely. We didn’t work out. We both moved on.” Willa said as she finally finished her pizza and finished her glass of wine. She slipped under the covers of her bed and looked at Sebastian. “We have a busy day tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep. We need to head to Becca and David’s so I can pack a couple bags and then we can head for the airport. Got to get you back to your job and girlfriend.” Willa said as she turned over to face the wall to not show how hearing he had a girlfriend had truly affected her. Even after everything she said to him, she still loved him. She never stopped, but now it was too late. She wasn’t the same girl. He deserved better than a broken shell. So she pushed him away. She broke her own heart to save his.

She would be his friend. That is all she could ask for. He was happy and she wasn’t, but it was for the best. She was a complete mess at the moment. She had just broke off a three year engagement and a five year relationship with an abusive manipulator. She wasn’t ready in any shape or form for another relationship if she would ever be ready for another relationship. She wasn’t about to lead him on or let him twist in the wind waiting for her to be ready.

Sebastian turned out the lights and turned off the TV as she slid into his bed. His heart breaking for the woman in the next bed. He knew she wasn’t the same as she’d been. He thought he was partly to blame for it, but mostly he knew her ex was a complete asshole and he’d love to have a shot at him. He turned to face Willa’s back and closed his eyes wishing she was wrapped up in his arms. If he hadn’t been pressured to walk away from her, he was sure they’d have still been together. He wished with all his heart he could go back in time and change what happened between them.

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Feedback much appreciated. They give me fuel to keep writing.

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remywrites5 · 5 years ago

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Can you please please please write more jegulily and jegulus but preferably jegulily puh-leaseee id love and appreciate you forever

James didn’t exactly consider himself good at all the wedding planning stuff. He was still a little awed that Lily Evans had even agreed to it. They’d been dating for four years, since they were eighteen, and it was kind of just the thing people did. James would have been happy just going on the way things were but he knew that was what everyone was expecting of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry Lily, it was just they already acted as if they were married, it didn’t feel like the actual wedding was worth it. Although James Potter had never said no to a party in his life.

He also didn’t want to leave everything up to Lily. He wasn’t completely useless and could help with the planning and getting shit done. Lily knew better than to have James do too much though considering his propensity for mischief. He’d been given things to do that were difficult to screw up.

James was in charge of the wine they were serving and Sirius’ brother owned a vineyard that he’d inherited from an uncle. Sirius and Regulus had inherited it together from their Uncle Alphie, but Sirius had no interest in wine besides drinking it, so he had let Reg take it over and apparently the business was thriving.

James had actually never met Regulus before despite Sirius being his best friend. After Sirius had begun to rebel against his parents, Walburga and Orion tried to limit his contact with Reg as much as possible so their only good son wouldn’t be influenced by the bad. Reg had gone to a very private boarding school somewhere in Eastern Europe. They hadn’t really had an occasion to meet since then as James had been busy starting his life with Lily.

As he walked into the tasting room, it was so classy he felt like maybe he should take off his shoes so he didn’t track mud anywhere. There were large black leather sofas for people to sit down and enjoy their wine. There were also a few tables on the other side and a bar with stools in the center of the room. The lighting was warm and inviting, like someone could just sit for hours and enjoy the wine.

James knew Regulus was expecting him as Sirius had booked the appointment for him. As it was the middle of the day on a Thursday, it wasn’t as if there were a lot of people there. Just an older retired couple in the corner at one of the tables, chatting quietly and enjoying their afternoon with nowhere to get to.

He took the opportunity to study the different kinds of wine that were displayed on the wall. James didn’t exactly know a lot about wine but he knew it usually gave him a headache. He was more of a whiskey and beer kind of bloke. Still, Lily preferred wine and it seemed like the more wedding type thing to do.

“You must be James,” a silky baritone voice said from his right. James turned and felt like he was hit in the face with a frying pan. Regulus Black was gorgeous. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, after all Sirius was a very good-looking bloke. He had the same dark hair but it was shorter and more styled. He had sharp features, high cheekbones and a cut jawline. His eyes were a bit more sunken in than Sirius’, making his grey eyes seem even more pronounced.

“Yes,” James said after having to clear his throat. “James Potter.”

“Regulus Black,” he said, holding out his hand. His fingers were long and slender, almost delicate. James cringed at his own rough hands as he shook Reg’s. “It’s nice to meet you finally.”

“Yeah,” James said, taking his hand back and shoving it into his pockets in embarrassment. “I was starting to think Sirius was keeping us apart on purpose.”

Reg smiled, bringing one thin finger to his lips and biting down on it. Christ, everything about him seemed sinful. “My brother has never been good about sharing. A poor Paddington bear once suffered the consequences by being ripped in half.”

James chuckled. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Only child I’m afraid.”

“Lucky you,” Reg said, quirking his eyebrows playfully as he dropped his finger from his lips. “Now, what were you thinking for your wedding?”

James shrugged. “To be honest, I know fuck all about wines.”

Reg nodded as if he’d been expecting it. James wasn’t sure if Sirius had warned Reg about James’ lack of knowledge or if he should be offended that Regulus had just assumed he knew nothing. “How about a tasting?” he offered, gesturing towards the bar. “We can go through a range of wines and find what you like. Unless the bride already has some selections.”

James shook his head. “I think she usually drinks a cabernet but she’ll pretty much take whatever is on offer.”

Reg walked gracefully over to behind the bar and began getting set up. He uncorked the first wine with a flourish and poured James a glass. James sat down on one of the stools and watched Reg. He moved like a dancer, his body having such ease to it as if it wanted to go wherever Reg had in mind, everything working in perfect unison.

Regulus slid over a piece of paper with a list of wines on it. “After you taste each wine you score it on a scale from one to five, five being the highest. We’ll start with the sweeter wines and work our way to drier wines. If your fiancée enjoys Cabernet then it’s possibly she’s more into the dry. We’ll see what passes your fancy though.”

James struggled not to mention that Regulus was what he fancied most at the moment. They chatted as James tasted over fifteen types of wine including a few cordials. They were all mostly delicious with only a few not really doing it for him. Regulus’ eyes lit up when he talked about wine and it was clearly a subject he was very interested in. James loved listening to him talk and realized he’d been sitting for hours only by the fact that his arse had lost most of the feeling in it. The older couple in the corner had left and it had been just him and Reg for some time.

“Fuck,” James said, checking his phone. He was slightly buzzed from all the wine. “Lily will be wondering where I am. Guess we’ll be having a takeaway for dinner.”

Regulus smiled politely. “Sorry to take up so much of your time.”

“Don’t be,” James assured him quickly. “I had a really good time. Can I buy a bottle to take home with me? I think Lily would really like it.”

Regulus nodded and turned away. James wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a pained expression cross Reg’s face. When he turned back around, he was holding a bottle of cabernet, his smile never faltering. “It’s on the house,” he said, holding it out to James.

“Absolutely not,” James protested, shaking his head emphatically. “You already wouldn’t let me pay for the tasting even though I googled what you normally charge for that. You’ve done enough, Reg.”

“Just take the stupid bottle,” Reg said with a put upon sigh.

James pushed his glasses up and huffed in annoyance. As he took the bottle from Reg, their fingers brushed against each other and James could have sworn he felt electricity at the touch. He held the bottle in one hand and fished his wallet out with the other. He put fifty quid into the tip jar with a pointed look at Reg. He wasn’t sure if that was enough to cover everything he’d had that day but at least it was something. It didn��t make him feel quite so guilty.

“So…” he said, shuffling awkwardly. “I’ll see you around then?” He realized he really didn’t want to leave.

“You know where I am,” Regulus answered with a small smile. “Congratulations, by the way, I don’t know if I ever said it.”

“Yeah, thanks,” James said, a blush tingeing his cheeks. “I’d better go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Reg ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “I didn’t mind at all.”

James felt his stomach twist painfully. He had a fiancée. It didn’t do to go around fancying other blokes when he had the girl of his dreams waiting at home. “Thanks again, Reg. I hope to see you soon.”

“I’d like that.”

As James left the tasting room, he clutched the bottle of wine to his chest and pressed himself up against the wall of the side of the building. The whole thing was just so bloody inconvenient.

***

James got curry on his way home, unsure if it paired with red wine, but figuring they’d drink it anyway. He should have asked Regulus what would go well with the wine. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d know.

“James,” Lily called out, pulling him from his reverie of thinking of Reg as he dragged his naan through the curry sauce. “Earth to Potter.”

James glanced up from his plate to find Lily staring at him expectantly. He cleared is throat and took a bit of his naan just to stall for time. He had no idea what Lily had been talking about before he spaced out. “Yeah?” he asked with his mouth full.

Lily rolled her eyes. “So who is it?”

“What?” James asked, nearly choking on the half-chewed bread in his mouth. He took a huge gulp of his wine and that didn’t help at all because the wine made him think of Reg. His face heated up in embarrassment.

“You’ve been sighing wistfully the entire meal,” Lily pointed out with a knowing grin. “If I didn’t know better, James, I’d say you were in love.”

James took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m in love with you.”

Lily shrugged. “I’ve been in love with more than one person at once.”

James stared at her in surprise. “Am I one of those two people?” he asked, this being the first he’d ever heard of it.

Lily nodded and pulled one of her knees up to her chest, hugging it as she ate her food. “The year we got together. Our first dating. I’d been in love with Marlene Mckinnon for years before that. It was part of the reason I kept turning you down. Well, that and you were a massive prick back then. Marlene and I used to fool around a lot but I definitely was in love with her. She developed feelings for Dorcas Meadows and I realized you weren’t so awful so we broke things off. But I still had feelings for Marlene even as I started falling in love with you. It’s possible to love more than one person.”

James’ jaw dropped. “Wait, I was a rebound?”

Lily groaned. “Bloody hell, Potter, that wasn’t exactly the point of the story.”

“You never told me any of that!” James said indignantly. “I didn’t even know you were bisexual!”

“I didn’t know you were either,” Lily shot back accusingly and James’ face reddened again. “You didn’t go to work today and so there’s really only one person it could be, unless you feel in love with Mrs. Gupta at the curry place we go to.”

James shuffled uncomfortably. He had forgotten how intuitive Lily could be, how clever she was. Of course she would work it out. No one had ever accused James of being subtle. “Lily, nothing happened, nothing will happen.”

“Says who?”

“Says me!” James said in frustration. “It’s just a stupid crush. I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

“Why not?” Lily said, her tone teasing and James looked up to find her raising an eyebrow at him. “I think I want to meet this Regulus who turned your head.”

“Lily no!”

“Oh yes!”

***

James was a ball of nerves as they entered the tasting room. He didn’t know what to expect from any of this and the uncertainty had him on edge. Lily seemed to be having the time of her life, getting a chance to playfully rib James for once instead of the other way around. He didn’t even understand what Lily was hoping to gain from all this. Maybe just ammo against James to use for the rest of their lives together. He’d been trying to talk her out of this stupid plan since the previous evening but Lily was steadfast.

Regulus walked in from the back carrying a case of wine. He stopped when he spotted James and smiled at him before glancing over at Lily. He looked a pit panicked as he put the case down on the bar. “Hello again,” he said, his expression schooled into something more neutral. “How can I help you?”

“My fiancée would like to take you out on a date,” Lily informed him. James felt his jaw drop in surprise and his eyes flickered over to Reg nervously.

“Lily,” he hissed, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

“I don’t blame you, James,” Lily said, looking at him over her shoulder and giving him a sweet smile. “Bloody gorgeous.”

“I’m sorry,” Regulus spoke up. “I’m confused.”

Lily walked over to the bar and bent over it, getting close to Reg while James watched them in horror. It felt like everything was going in slow motion, like a car crash. “It’s quite simple,” Lily informed him. “James has a crush on you. I don’t have a problem with that. Are you interested in girls or is it just blokes?”

Regulus looked dumbstruck for a moment and looked at James for help. James could only shrug in response. Regulus blinked a few times and then his attention went back to Lily. “I’m interested in women as well as men.”

Lily smiled. “Then maybe both of us will take you out on a date,” she said, looking behind her and waving James over. James stumbled closer and stood beside his absolutely bonkers bride to be. “Only if you’re interested in that, of course. I’d understand if you’d want it to be just you and James. It seems you two made quite the connection yesterday.”

Regulus’ eyes flickered between James and Lily as if he were working something out in his head. When their eyes met, James gave him a reassuring smile, wanting Reg to know this wasn’t some kind of joke. Reg licked his lips and nodded as if he understood. It felt like a similar non-verbal communication went on between Reg and Lily. He felt a bit relieved by how quickly Regulus and Lily seemed to be hitting it off. After what felt like a lifetime, Reg’s face broke out into a smile. “Well then,” he said, grabbing a bottle of wine and pouring three glasses. “How do you two feel about Indonesian food?”

#jegulily #i write things #Polyamorous relationship #flirting #fluff #modern day au #long post #anon prompt

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singledarkshade · 5 years ago

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Sapphire And Steel

Summary: When Detective Rip Hunter is given the task of tracking down the notorious jewel thieves Sapphire and Steel he has no idea how it's going to take over his life. All he wants is to put them in jail while they want to play with him. In more ways than one. Author’s Note: This was a small idea I had that started out as a quick fic that suddenly blossomed into a much longer fic. There will be some sex scenes later on and I apologise now because I'm not great at writing those types of scenes. Anyway, hope you enjoy and more will be up soon as I have a few chapters already written. ********************************************* Part One The envelope sat on the breakfast bar when Sara walked into the kitchen. It had Rip’s name on it in neat script but was still sealed.

“Aren’t you going to open your mail?” she asked the man standing washing dishes.

Rip glanced over at her, “No.”

Rolling her eyes, Sara picked up the dishtowel and started to dry for him. It was never intentional for her to live with Rip. When she moved to Central City, her dad had asked Rip to keep an eye out for her, which he did. They met up for coffee every so often and she knew he would always be there if she needed help. Then the moron above her managed to flood Sara’s crappy apartment making it even more crappy. Rip had a spare room which he’d offered to let her use and Sara had now been staying in it for the past three months. Even though her apartment had now been fixed.

“Why aren’t you opening the letter?” Sara demanded after several minutes, “You’re a cop. I thought that came with an inability not to snoop into everyone’s business.”

Rip levelled an annoyed stare at her, which never worked since she had grown up with a cop who could do the same glare.

“I already know who it’s from,” Rip replied, “And I am not going to give them the satisfaction.”

Sara frowned confused.

They continued doing the dishes in silence for several minutes before Sara let out an annoyed cry.

“Who sent the letter?”

Rip shrugged, “It’s one of my cases.”

Sara rolled her eyes, “Rip, come on give me some actual information because this is making me more curious.”

Finishing the final plate, Rip dried his hands and picked up the envelope handing it to Sara.

“Open it.”

Confused, Sara used the knife she was holding and sliced open the envelope before pulling out a Christmas card with two penguins kissing under the mistletoe. At the cute cheery card Sara became even more bemused. Opening it she read the message;

Detective Rip Hunter, Merry Christmas, Looking forward to playing with you, Sapphire & Steel

“Who the hell are ‘Sapphire and Steel’?” she asked bemused.

Rip sighed, plucking the card out her hands and tossing it onto the breakfast bar.

“They are my latest case,” Rip told her.

Sara’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “Do you want to run that past me again? I know Dad never got Christmas cards from the criminals he was chasing.”

Rip opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing Sara one before opening his own. Taking a long drink, he leaned against the counter.

“Sapphire and Steel are the nicknames two jewel thieves have somehow become known as,” Rip explained, “They’re notorious and have managed to avoid being caught for years. I was handed the case when Detective Perkins retired. I’m the third lead detective on the case.”

Sara mused on this, “Okay.”

“He told me that they liked to send him cards at Christmas and on his birthday,” Rip continued, “Their way of letting him know they’re out there.”

“So, they’re telling you they know you’ve taken over the case,” Sara chuckled.

Rip nodded, “Precisely. And I’m not playing.”

Christmas went by quietly but on New Year’s Eve, Rip arrived home from the station to find a box addressed to him waiting on his doorstep. Knowing exactly who had sent it to him, Rip opened the bin sitting at the side of the building and dropped it in.

Smiling he headed inside to change for the party he was going to, but it was New Year and Rip had promised his girlfriend he’d go. It was quiet in the house with Sara home in Star City for the holidays. Despite reluctantly letting her use his spare room after the apartment disaster, he’d become used to her presence. It turned out that Sara was a good roommate to have since she had grown up with a cop, so understood his shifts. They communicated mostly via text or notes as they were rarely in the house at the same time. When their paths did cross, they didn’t get in each other’s way and got along fairly well. They also both ensured there was always food in the fridge and made sure the house was always clean.

Jumping in the shower, Rip closed his eyes as the water cascaded down over him before quickly washing. Shutting off the water he grabbed a towel and headed into his room to get dressed pulling on the black denims and light blue shirt he’d set out.

Hearing his phone buzz in the other room, Rip frowned when he passed the box that he’d just thrown out sitting on the dining room table.

“What?” he answered his phone sharply.

“It’s me,” Caitlin said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Sorry,” Rip winced, “Just…never mind. Is there something wrong?”

“No,” she assured him, “I’m just calling to let you know you don’t need to pick me up. Cisco is going to give me a lift, so I’ll see you there.”

“Okay,” Rip replied, “I’ve got the wine and I’m almost ready to head out the door.”

“Of course you are,” Caitlin laughed, “I’ll see you soon.”

Hanging up Rip frowned at the box sitting on the table. This meant that not only were they watching him, but they’d been in his house.

Perkins had warned him, but only about cards never presents. Grabbing the bottle of wine for the party, Rip decided he was not letting them get to him and ignored the box. He’d bin it again when he got home.

“He’s not opening our present,” Gideon gave an exaggerated pout.

Miranda laughed as they watched the detective in charge of finding them leave his house, dressed nicely carrying a bottle of wine.

“He will,” Miranda assured her, “Give him time and he’ll get curious about what we’re sending him. All cops are the same.”

Gideon watched Detective Rip Hunter climb into his car and leave the driveway before turning to her partner, “Are we putting the cameras in now?”

Miranda grinned at her, “Yes,” at Gideon’s smile, Miranda kissed her, “He’s far enough away. Let’s go.”

Sliding out the car, Miranda waited for Gideon to disable the alarm system before opening the door. For a cop it had been surprisingly easy to get a copy of his keys. Walking into the house, Miranda looked around thoughtfully.

“Neat freak,” she mused, “How like a cop.” Turning to Gideon she grinned, “Let’s do this.”

It took them about ten minutes to set up Gideon’s surveillance system. They then wandered through the house looking through all of Rip’s things. Studying the man who taken over from Perkins, so they had all the information they needed.

“He’s going to be gone for a while,” Gideon said with a seductive smile, leaning against his bedroom door, “We could…”

“No,” Miranda cut her off, “We’re not leaving any evidence we were here.”

“Spoilsport,” Gideon pouted.

Miranda wrapped her arms around Gideon, “We’re going to have a lot of fun with him. Don’t get overexcited.”

Chuckling Gideon lifted the picture they’d found of their new friend, “He is nice to look at. Don’t you think?”

“He is,” Miranda agreed studying the photo, “His eyes are kind, he looks as intelligent as the reports say and I like the beard. The last two were so clean shaven, they didn’t fit the rugged detective look.”

“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Gideon said.

Miranda’s eyes lit up with an idea

Gideon asked, “What?”

“Miller was gay, Perkins married and…” she grimaced, “Old.” Studying the photo again, Miranda smirked, “Are you following my train of thought?”

Gideon grinned, “Definitely,” she sighed musing, “We can have a lot of fun with him.”

Miranda chuckled, “And we’re going to. But….”

“There’s always a but,” Gideon sighed.

“Finesse, darling,” Miranda reminded her sliding arms around Gideon, “If we push too hard at the beginning he’ll break quickly. We watch and play with him a little first before getting to the real fun stuff.”

Gideon smiled mischievously.

“Miller quit and Perkins retired,” Miranda reminded her, “Neither got anywhere near us. Let’s see how well Hunter will do.”

*********************************************

Caitlin smiled amused when Rip slid into the seat across from her after he gave her a quick kiss hello, “Only ten minutes late. That has to be a personal record.”

Rolling his eyes, Rip picked up his menu, “I did warn you when we started seeing each other that these things happen.”

“Should I ask what actually happened to make you late?” Caitlin said, “Or will I get the reply ‘police business’ as always?”

At her teasing he smiled, “Just had to finish some paperwork before Captain Singh decided to demote me to traffic duty.”

Caitlin shrugged slightly, “At least you’d have a proper workday.”

“Wasn’t I the one waiting for two hours last month when you had to finish an experiment?” Rip asked teasingly.

“Now that was an extremely important experiment,” Caitlin replied with the hint of a smile.

Their waiter arrived and they ordered their meals, Rip taking a drink of wine Caitlin had ordered for them. They’d been seeing each other for about six months now. Neither were looking for a relationship at the time, and both were initially reluctant to start anything considering how much time their jobs took up. But Cisco, who had introduced them, just rolled his eyes and told them to not be stupid.

Rip was glad they had started dating, Caitlin was sweet, smart, they had similar interests and he always had fun when he was with her.

“Do you think she’s right for him?” Gideon asked as she and Miranda sat in a nearby booth watching their Detective with the woman he was dating.

Miranda sipped her wine, “I think she seems intelligent and kind. I don’t think it will last but she’s fine for now.”

Gideon chuckled, “I like her. It’s a pity we’re going to ruin their date night. But I suppose we can make it up to him in some way.”

Miranda motioned the nearby waitress over and paid their cheque. As they were getting ready to leave, a smile touched Miranda’s face.

“What are you thinking?” Gideon asked at the mischievous look.

“I have an idea,” she said, “Wait for me in the car.”

Gideon nodded, brushing her lips against Miranda’s before she left the restaurant, taking a quick look back at their detective who was obliviously having dinner with his girlfriend. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she waited for Miranda to appear.

“Well?” she demanded the moment the other woman was in the car.

“I arranged for a bottle wine to be delivered to the table just before he gets the call about our latest escapade,” Miranda smirked.

Gideon laughed, “I love it. Let’s go and pick up my new necklace.”

Rip chuckled as Caitlin finished the story about one of her co-workers while they waited for their dessert.

“Sir,” a waiter arrived with a bottle of wine making Rip frown.

“We didn’t order another bottle,” Rip told him.

The man nodded, “A lady sent it earlier tonight with her compliments for your dessert. Said you would know who it came from.”

Before he could answer, Rip’s phone buzzed at his side. Automatically glancing down he saw the alert about the robbery and the wine suddenly made sense.

“We don’t want it,” Rip stated coldly before turning to Caitlin, “I have to go. There’s been a robbery.”

She nodded, “Do you want me to bring dessert to yours?”

Rip sighed, “As tempting as that sounds, this could take a long time. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He leaned over to kiss her goodbye stopping when she caught his hand.

“Rip, you can tell me what that was with the wine,” she reminded him.

Giving her a small smile and a quick kiss, he nodded, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Cisco?” Rip called as he walked into the jewellery store, “What do we have?”

“Lock was picked, CCTV was turned off,” Cisco Ramon, the CCPD’s tech and cyber genius listed appearing at Rip’s side, “Safe was hacked and they got away with a tidy sum in uncut diamonds, some earrings, a few watches and a sapphire necklace that was being cleaned for the exceedingly wealthy Mrs Worthington which I have been told, repeatedly by the manager, is worth a fortune.”

“It was Coburn and Ryder,” Rip told him.

Cisco frowned, “How do you know by simply walking in the door? Are you psychic now?”

At the amused question Rip rolled his eyes. “They let me know at dinner.”

Confusion filled the younger man’s eyes, “I thought you and Caitlin…”

“We were,” Rip grimaced, “We were waiting for dessert when a bottle of wine was brought over from a woman who said I’d know who sent it. Then I got your message about the robbery.”

Cisco let out a whistle, “They…”

“Okay, let’s get to work,” Rip said determinedly, “I’m going to catch those two and throw away the key.”

#fic #legends of tomorrow #the flash #rip hunter #gideon #miranda coburn #sara lance #cisco ramon #caitlin snow #timeship #hunterburn #burnship #hunterburnship #alternate universe #jewel thieves

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aria-i-adagio · 5 years ago

Text

What You Take Won’t Kill You

Masterpost

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter Rating: T with a squeeze of lime

By the time Portia’s deft hands have finished with my hair and face, I’m so dolled up that I feel as though I’m impersonating someone else - an actress standing in the middle of a stage, praying that the lines that she’s forgotten return to her. The fabric and the cloud of expensive fragrance that surrounds me change my posture. My back is held straighter, my steps are smoother, more confident. Perhaps, instead of a costume, I can think of it as a kind of armor that will make it easier to suffer through the next hour. Portia has her arm hooked in mine, and I'm not sure if it's support or to make sure I won't run away. Probably a little bit of both.

Nadia awaits us in the room with the horrible goat painting, this time set up for a more intimate dinner. Two sets of tableware are already laid, and Portia gives a nod towards the chair closest to the Countess's before whispering conspiratorially in my ear. "I'll keep the booze coming. Won't hurt." She slips into her servant persona again, all prim and proper.

"Dema. It seems the Palace is becoming to you." Red eyes flicker over me, and for the first time feel that she is appreciating my appearance. I'm still not entirely sure about what to do with her. I don't care for the trick that she pulled with my cards - though it was admittedly quite clever. And my sympathies certainly lay more with the Doctor than with the Countess. But...she has resources that I might need if I'm actually going to discover what happened three years ago. And if nothing else, I'll get another good meal out of this. I can't cook for shit and when Asra is gone, I typically eat whatever stuff on a stick the market is serving up that day.

"My lady." I lower my head slightly, which is all of the bow I'm going to give her. "I can't say that I haven't enjoyed any of my stay here."

A gracious nod tells me she appreciates my gesture - minimal as it is - and suggests that no more is demanded of me. "I am told the collection of things you brought was quite remarkable. If there is anything else you need, let Portia or me know. It will be taken care of."

"I'd appreciate a little more time in the library. Uninterrupted." I pause, then add on. "And my sandals did take a bit of beating while running about the city today."

"Can do!" Portia pipes up, and I see a brief expectant smile in the Countess’s red eyes as she’s reminded of Portia’s presence. "I know what you can do, milady. Pretend it's Dema's birthday."

Birthday?

An excited finger pokes my ribs. Birthdays seem to be a good thing in the magical world of Portia. Nadia smiles at her handmaid’s antics. “Hmm, I can think of some other gifts for you. And I hear the kitchen has already prepared a lovely cake. And some . . . guests . . . since you have a penchant for fraternizing with your prey, I thought it would be nice to invite them along to share our meal. What do you say?"

When is my birthday anyway? And fraternizing with my prey? Does the Countess know that I spoke to Julian at the bar? Or that he broke into my shop. That would be . . . unfortunate, primarily for me. Unless, of course, she had somehow caught him. For a moment, I’m afraid that Julian will be pushed into the dining room with manacles on his wrists, but the only people who enter are the two guards, once again in their normal uniforms. I manage not to sign in relief.

"Let them stay. They played your game well."

“I suppose our two fierce creatures do deserve a reward.” She indulges me with a smile. "Take seat, please, all of you. It is time for a little something to warm your hearts and steady your nerves, even if it is just for a little while."

It seems a servant has been waiting outside already, bringing fine silver cups filled with ice and sprigs of mint and something gingery, judging by the smell. Portia takes place to stand at her mistress's side, seeming more like a proud mother hen than a social inferior. "Sit, please, before the ice melts."

Overly aware of my dress, I tuck it around my legs and take my seat near the head of the table. Another servant enters and lays out two place settings at the other end, as far of the Countess as possible. That won't do. I get back up, walk down to the end of the table, collect the flatware and the plates and bring them back to the head of the table, setting them down across from mine, and giving the Countess a pointed look. Let them stay does not mean to exile them to the far end of the table.

The Countess stares down her nose her me, and then a slow smile overtakes her face. "While I understand your point, my esteemed Dema, I very much doubt you are doing them a favor." I want to read her smile as icy, but isn't, not really. She seems more... amused? Indulgent is perhaps the right word. Someone allowing the antics of a favored pet to play out before tightening the leash again.

Portia seems to be suppressing a giggle as she quickly rearranges the flatware back into the proper order as I walk back to one own place and take my seat. The Countess's comment about not doing them a favor may have been right. Both guards look entirely terrified as they take their places across from me. Ah well. Of course, in using them to make a point of the Countess, perhaps I wasn't behaving much better than she herself had.

"Have you recovered from your trials?" Nadia asks friendly little questions, polite and amicable, but somehow so very... no, distant is not quite the right word. Far away, maybe, or lonely, the same kind of lonely a traveling merchant has when staring into a tavern fire during a long night. She’s simply far better in masking it with friendly chit chat. Undoubtedly, Portia briefed her in about those two, and she manages to keep a conversation flowing, even if it's mainly her asking the questions.

Unfortunately, her polite questions turn to me. “Tell me more about yourself, Dema. Where are you from?”

“Umm.” I grab my wine glass and hastily drink from it, in a bid to stall for time. “It’s far from here. Small town. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

"You might be surprised. I have heard of an astounding amount of small places. It is important to know such..." For a second, her voice breaks, and she looks like she's bitten on something vile, food or memory. A hasty sip of wine. "But I cannot blame anyone for getting drawn in by the big city. Of course not. Adventure and money, whatever you prefer."

"A little of both, I suppose." A servant whisks away the ice, replacing with some sort of fish involving chopped and highly spiced raw fish. I push a bit of fish around my plate, trying to figure out a way to turn the conversation to a different topic. “I moved here to work with my aunt. She, uh, owned the shop before me.”

"So you have lived here for a while?" One of the guards asks, glad to be out of the spotlight. "You like it? We rarely get into town itself. Feels like it changed a lot."

“Oh, you know how is it,” I dissemble and wish that I had a god to pray to that no one else would ask questions about my life or past. “Things change slowly, and you hardly notice it at all.”

Nadia inserts herself back into the conversation. “Was your aunt a card reader as well?”

“She -” I don’t know much about my aunt either. Asra’s told me that the shop was once hers, and I’ve inferred some things from the contents of thereof, but I don’t know any real details. “She mostly worked with herbs.” I stuff my mouth with another bite of the fish, hoping for a reprieve from her questions.

“Ah, botanical magic, how pleasant.”

“Um, yes. This fish is quite nice.” Please let that distract her. Or maybe she’ll just ask me about herbs and flowers. I can answer those questions.

“The kitchen here does admirably well, but I’m afraid they haven’t quite managed to replicate the flavors I remember from my childhood. Nonetheless, it is a wonderful dish for a summer night.”

A servant whisks my empty plate. Nadia pushes back her chair and stands. At the other end of the table, Bludmila and Ludovico drop their utensils in unison. “Portia, please have the sorbet and desserts Dema and I sent to the veranda. I think I would like to enjoy the night air a bit. And -” She tilts her head down to look at me. “I would like to speak a bit more privately.”

I follow her out onto the veranda. Lamps sway along the railing, providing sufficient light, but no so much as to overwhelm the sense of nighttime solitude. Nadia settles herself into a wicker chair at a small table. As a servant places two dishes of icy sorbet topped with mint sprig, I take the seat across from hers. She picks up the petite spoon from the dish and gently scraps a bite from the sorbet. I decide to be polite this time and mirror her actions. The sorbet is cherry - tart and only slightly sweet. It complements rather than clashing with the lingering taste of the spiced swordfish.

“I fear that I may not have made the best of impressions on you, Dema.”

The mouthful of sorbet melting on my tongue conveniently keeps me from quipping about her understatement. She continues without waiting for a response.

“I’m not unaware of the current state of disorder in the city. My motivations with this investigation are simply to begin to restore the city’s order and perhaps its faith in my competence as a leader. To do that, I must establish what happened three years ago and see Count Lucio’s murderer brought to justice.”

“How is it that you don’t know what happened?”

She sets her spoon down and looks over the railing. Her lips are pressed together into a thin line as she gazes at the darkness over the garden. As I wait for her response, a massive snowy owl lands on the railing beside her. She smiles and reaches out, stroking the owl’s head and speaking to it. “Ah, Chandra, it’s good to have you here, old friend.” The owl hoots gently at her. She turns back to me and takes a deep breath - the first sign nervousness I’ve seen from her since those first few moments in my shop. “What I am about to tell you must remain entirely between the two of us.”

“My lady?”

“Please. Nadia. Too few people call me by my name these days.” She presses a hand to her temple, ever so briefly gnaws at her thumb, and then lets her hand fall back into her lap. “I have - almost no recollections of my time in this city.”

“Your memories are missing?” That single sentence changes my entire impression of the Countess, but I’m not yet willing to give into the sudden surge of empathy that fills me.

“Sometimes I recall hints of the past. Whispers. But anytime that happens, I also experience excruciating headaches . . . blinding really. I remember agreeing to marry Lucio. Coming to Vesuvia during the masquerade nine years ago, but everything in between, my memories are like being lost in a fog on some lonely island.”

“That -” I allow my own spoon to clatter against the sorbet dish. What I’m about to say is as much of a understatement as the Countess’s comment on having failed to impress me. “Would be disconcerting.”

“Yes.” The Countess turns back to the owl and runs her fingers over its glossy feathers. “Portia is the only other person aware of my . . . predicament. But I think you will now understand why I must know what happened, and who I can trust. My courtiers tell me that Dr. Devorak is guilty. If he is, so be it, he will hang when I apprehend him. Which is at least an improvement on the gladiatorial trial by combat some of my courtiers would like to see return. But I am not entirely convinced that they are telling me the whole story, or even a true story. I will be just as content if you find he is innocent, so long as we establish the truth.”

“Why me?”

“I came to your shop because I continually saw your sign - the snake wrapped around an apothecary’s mortar and pestle - in my dreams. I don’t know what I expected.” She pauses and fixes me with another appraising look. I doubt that I am anything like what she expected. “But I think that I can trust you. You have little interest in telling me what I want to hear.” She rubs both of her temples. The muscles in her face have gone taut, probably another headache coming on. “Perhaps you will think a little more kindly of me now?”

“If your goal is to establish the truth, I can agree to help you with that.”

“That is all I require of you.” The Countess stands, and Portia materializes from the shadows. “I believe I will retire for the evening. Portia, would you see Dema back to her guest room and provide her with anything she needs?”

Portia links her arm in mine as we stroll along the veranda, taking an alternate route back to the guest room. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“I suppose not.” I had made it through dinner without staining the white dress, and the conversation with the Countess had been illuminating. Her intentions might not be as horrible as they seemed at first. Perhaps she was more misguided than anything. It was a vulnerable state, to be reliant on someone else to fill in information from a large chunk of time. More vulnerable than I really liked to admit. “So, the Countess has lost all of her memories of Vesuvia?”

“Yeah . . . I wasn’t exactly sure when I should tell you that, sorry.” Portia let go of my arm to push open a door leading back inside. “I wanted to earlier. But, I’m glad that she told you.”

“So it really has been the courtiers running Vesuvia?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh?” I elbow her side gently, finally haven’t become accustomed to her familiarity. “Sounds like you have opinions?”

“As always.” She looks around the hallways, reassuring herself that they’re clear before continuing. “They’re - well, you’ll meet them soon enough. But Valerius is the only one who seems concerned at all about the city, and he has a certain expectation about how things should go. Then there’s Valdemar . . .” She shivers. “I don’t know if I even want to know what they’re up to. Certainly wouldn’t help me sleep if I found out.” She takes my arm again. “But, you’ve had quite a long day, let’s get you back to bed.”

***

When I got back to my room, I undressed and curled up in bed hugging a pillow and hoping for a bit of sleep. I wasn’t surprised when it didn’t. I rolled back out of bed and paced the room trying to burn off the nagging wrongness - something missing - I felt deep in my bones. Faust’s presence would be welcome, but tonight she’s nowhere to be seen. With a sigh I settled myself on a the sofa with a glass of water from the carafe that had thoughtfully been left in the room and took Asra’s deck from my bag of belongings. Leaning back against the plush cushions I let my mind turn for a moment. I have questions about Nadia and Julian both. Nadia’s motivations are a bit clearer now, but I can’t quite bring myself to trust her. And Julian - why did I almost immediately feel connected with him? It couldn’t just be his past with Asra, whatever that had or hadn’t been?

I settle on Julian as a topic of intrigue and shuffle the deck several times before cutting it and laying out the top three cards. I pause before turning them over in quick succession. The Moon, the Hanged Man reversed, and the Ace of Cups. I let my fingers hover of the spread, but the cards were quiet. Or perhaps, they were simply drowned out by my own mind howling at the moon. The Hanged Man still seems appropriate to Julian - one so buffeted by the waves of fate that he’s simply given up and hopes to be washed up on some shore. The Ace of Cups should feel more promising than it does, but the idea of an overflowing cup is only reassuring if you’re not the one being asked to empty yourself. I close my eyes. There’s only one person who might actually answer my questions about Julian. Besides, if I wandered off to bar even if I didn’t find him, I could simply fall back on my usual strategy for coping with insomnia and existential dread: wine, music, sex - anything to deaden the roar of my mind.

Given the way the palace gardens and the field wrapped around this city, the bar with raven signboard is actually closer than my usual haunt near the shop. And, certainly, more interesting. As I had suspected, business had picked right back up once the guards had left. In fact, a fiddler had been added to the mix, along with a somewhat drunken accordion player. I order a couple of drinks from the bar - neither Portia’s purloined champagne or the wine over dinner had been enough - then surveyed the room, quickly spotting the person I hoped to find again when I left the Palace.

“Mind if I sit here?”

A very surprised Julian looks up at me as I set my drinks down next to his. “Not at all. I wasn't expecting to see you again tonight.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I sit down across the table from him and throw back the double shot of harsh liquor I held in my head, chasing it with the significantly better beer. Julian raises his eyebrows and looks vaguely impressed. But then wine from dinner had merely been a drop in the bucket of my ever expanding alcoholism. After all, why should I bother to keep the present clear when the past was so blurry.

He glances over my clothes, then smirks. “Whatever are you wearing, my dear?”

“Oh.” I hadn't really thought about coordinating when I shrugged into some combination of clothes that covered the important bits. I was in my old canvas trousers (someone in the palace laundry had expertly mended the ripped hem) and a loose sleeveless top of my own. A black silk robe that had been tossed across the back of the sofa was over that, just skimming the tops of my thighs. I suppose it was intended to be a bathrobe, or a dressing gown. It was doing well enough as an overshirt, if well enough was limited to providing one more layer against the evening chill. I return his smirk. “What? You don’t think this fits with my general bohemian aesthetic.”

Julian laughs, and I feel a warmth beginning in my belly, once that has nothing to do with the alcohol or even lust. I've heard this laugh before - I know, I just know - and I want to keep hear it again and again. “Don't worry about it. I'm sure you’d look fetching in a flour sack. You certainly do in whatever this is.”

“You’re the one wearing gloves indoors and a shirt missing most of its buttons.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs, eyes glassy with drink. “You do realize that Nadia'll hang you with me if she finds out you've known where I am and haven't told her.” He reaches across the table and strokes the side of my head that collided with the door frame the other night. The familiarity is both unexpected and yet, it somehow feels right. “Your head hasn't been bothering you has it?”

My head always bothers me, but not from the knock the other day. Whatever he did to heal the concussion lasted. “See, I’m having trouble reconciling that concern with a cold blooded murderer.”

“Even murderers are entitled to some moral complexity, my dear.” He drinks his beer, gaze shifting from side to side and then down at his gloved hands. He rubs his right hand across the back of the left, lips pursed in an utterly abject expression. “If I even am a murderer.”

I lower the beer that I had almost raised to my lips back down on the table. “If? You don’t know.”

“I, well -” He leans forward over the table, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t remember much of what happened the night Lucio died. Everything from then - not just that night, all of the plague, really - is foggy, confused.”

More missing memories? His, the Countess’s - mine. If amnesia is the running theme, was I involved in the murder somehow? And what else had been involved to disorder so many people’s minds? There wasn’t much in the books I had access to about losing memories, but what little I had found was consistent in noting that it was extremely uncommon outside of old age or significant trauma. Julian and Nadia both have a clear connection to the Count and his murder, but I don’t - at least, not as far as I know. But there is an awful lot that I don’t know.

But, more to the immediate point. “Why are you in Vesuvia then? Do you want to die for a murder you may not have commited?”

“Does it matter? Look, sailing with pirates for three years gives a man a lot of time to think and all I know is that I’m guilty of something. I have to be, to feel the way I do.” He lifts his head for a moment before dropping it back against the table, arms crossed in front of him. “Besides, if it's my fate to hang, then there's no, um, no point in continuing to run from it. Maybe I’ll at least get some kind of answer out of dying.”

There's something about seeing him so despondent that makes me want to wrap both my arms around him - and tightly. I start to reach my hand across the table, then jerk it back. I've had plenty of bleak interludes, but what I feel right now is some emotion that goes unexpectedly beyond casual empathy. Some bizarre sense that he is important to me. A piece of heirloom jewelry that was lost and is now found, or a rare book once read in a library and now available for redemption on a vendor’s table. I’m not quite sure how to explain away the sentiment or just what to do with it. But not acting isn't an option. I slowly extend my hand until my fingers are resting on his shoulder. “It wasn’t you.”

He raises his head, just enough to meet my eyes. “You can’t tell me that I’m innocent. You don’t know that.”

“No.” I lift my fingers from his shoulder and stroke the lock of hair that’s falling over his face. “But I know you’re not a bad man.”

“How?”

“I -” This isn’t like the cards whispering to me. This is something more real, something from inside of me. The words are distant, as if they’ve been shouted through a fog and had to echo over open water before reaching me, but but unlike the cards, the words are my own, and I know they are true. My fingers brush against his cheekbone. “I just do.”

“You really are a little fool.” His head tilts, leaning into my fingers. I stroke his hair and his cheekbone, waiting for him to say something else. The fiddler pulls a long morose note from the strings that wavers in the air. He sits up and tosses a coin across the room to the musicians, calling for something happier, faster. The accordionist catches it adroitly and the pair begin a quick paced tune.

Julian takes another drink of his beer and smiles at me - it only looks half forced - before standing and bowing dramatically, one hand extended to me. I return his smile and toss back the remains of my beer. This may not be an answer but it is part what I was hoping for when I came - to find someone to dance with into the energy running through my body gave out. Anyone would do, honestly, but at the moment, Julian intrigues me. I stand up and take his hand. Eyebrow arched in what might be surprise, he takes my hand, his grin becoming more genuine as he does.

He is, as I suspected, a fine dancer. And dancing him with isn’t as awkward as I would have expected, given that he’s head, shoulders, and bit of ribcage taller than I am. I feel as if he knows the steps I’m going to take before I do. We whirl through two songs before returning breathless to our table and signaling to the barkeep for more beers, which Julian helpfully goes to fetch.

He slides close to me on the bench, wrapping an arm companionably around my shoulders. “Why the trouble sleeping, lovely?”

I shrug. Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes, I just got too agitated to sleep for days on end for absolutely no apparent reason at all. And then the sleeplessness only snowballs on itself as the agitation takes over, tearing into my consciousness like a vulture working on a fresh carcass, until finally, my mind is so far from my body that the latter can simply crash down into bed. But Julian looks like he knows a few things about not sleeping. Reaching out, I run my finger along the dark circle under his uncovered eye. “And how well do you sleep?”

“I'll sleep when I'm dead.” He leans over me. “You smell good.” He traces the line of my now exposed collarbone. I lean into his touch, running my tongue across my bottom lip. But then he shakes his head, straightens up there robe tied over my shirt, and pushes my hair back from my face. I narrow my eyes at him, pouting and disappointed. Julian is the perfectly awful decision I’ll looking for. And he's clearly enough interested in me. He runs a hand along my jaw and brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’d love to, darling, really, but I don’t know you well enough to know if this is your normal, or if you simply have amazing balance while inebriated.”

“I’m never normal, per se.”

“Note that I said ‘your normal’ not just 'normal.’”

“I'm not at all sure that I even have a personalized normal.”

“Life that complicated, my dear?”

“Not really.” My life itself is fairly banal, except for that whole not remembering more than three years thing. I feel like a ghost. A specter - a spectator - at the limits of life and death. A shade captured in patterns of behavior that were set for me long ago. Watching. Reacting. But every time I feel able to act on my own, something seizes me, either pulling into melancholy or dragging me up, up, up into a frenzy. And, once again, I'm stuck in the pattern, whatever exit I glimpsed long past, and I'm once again caught barely managing to balance between life and death. Maybe that's why I had accepted the Countess's proposal; I wanted the exterior to match a little more constant parade of up and down in my interior life, or at least, provide me with a sorry if distraction from them. “But my mind makes up for it in sheer unpredictability.”

“You better get back to the palace; it’s nearly dawn. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

“That sounds like a horrible idea.” I lean forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder one hand on his chest, the other resting on his waist. I’m not inebriated, but I might be a little drunk. “I don’t want you to get caught.”

“Heh.” Under my fingers, his chest catches in a half laugh. “Compromise. Your shop?”

“I can work with that, I think.” I mean, he was walking openly in the market the other morning. The people who live and work around my shop must not be in a hurry to turn him in either.

The air outside has gotten steadily cooler over the course of the cloudless night. I wrap the bathrobe tighter around me and retie the knot in the sash. Julian stops and looks back at me with a concerned expression.

“Are you warm enough in that?”

“This? I’m fine. Silk is a surprisingly good insulator.”

“I did not know that.” He takes my arm when I stumble over a bucket that has been tossed in the street. “Still, you, um, you look like you might be chilly.” He pulls me close to him, and wraps one side of his coat around me. It’s comfortable - the same way snuggling against Asra is comfortable. We walk in silence arm and arm, through several turns of the street.

“Say, why did my old mask upset you so much?”

“I -” I shudder at the thought of those glassy red eyes. “I don’t know, to be honest.” I pull my arm free of his hand. “I’m sure a lot of people don’t like them. Bad memories. And you had broken into my home as well.”

“Yeah, I really am sorry about that. I mean, I thought I was just breaking into As - the witch’s home.”

“Why are you trying to find him?” And for that matter, why doesn’t he want to say his name? At some point, Asra had been someone Julian wanted to protect, rather than “the witch.”

“I need answers. I think he has them, if I can get him to tell me something for once.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Heh,” Julian chuckles. “How long have you . . . ?”

“Been his apprentice? Three years.” At least, that’s as far as I can remember being his apprentice. I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to trust Julian with the full extent to which I’m missing my own past. I want to. I’m so tired of keeping that card clutched close to my chest, telling little lies to disguise it and praying that I can keep up with them, all the while feeling like I’m drifting further and further from who I actually am.

“Fascinating timing.”

“What?”

“Oh nothing. Look, we’re at your shop.”

Speaking of people not answering questions. Almost as bad as Asra. I undo the wards on the door and turn back to say goodbye to Julian. He leans down, embraces me, then kisses my cheeks: one, then the other, then the first one again. “Sleep, my dear.”

“You too, maybe?”

“Maybe.” He smiles at me - a genuine smile with no hint of a smirk. Then he’s gone.

Chapter Seven

a/n: Yes. I was and am very much into nineties era Depeche Mode, and so is Julian. At least, this Julian. Who also gets worried about whether he likes new bands because they’re actually good, or just because they’re trendy.

#the arcana #arcana fanfiction #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #julian devorak #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #whatever i've done #my writing #dema

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years ago

Text

Straight Boy

Part 2: together

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 10365

Chapters: 2/4 [All chapters]

Read on AO3

AN: Oooooh this chapter is fuuuuun :) I loved writing all this fic but especially this chapter. Also, forgot to mention it last chapter, but yes "Baz in glasses" is BACK baby!!! I love this HC and I will keep putting it in fics until I die. Well, enjoy this chapter :D

Tagging: @jeansjeansjeansjeans

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I have to do a double take of the building. I check the address Baz text sent me, and it’s right. This fancy ass mostly glass white condo is definitely the right place. Well, Baz said his family was rich, maybe they bought him a whole condo for uni? Yeah...

I walk and type in the buzzer code Baz gave me. It rings low and loud, until a very pissed off voice comes on. And it’s definitely not Baz.

“What?!” The posh woman barks out. I instinctively step away.

“Uh, I’m here to see Baz?” I say with extreme caution. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Oh, right, Basilton said you were coming.”

Basilton? What? Okay, not important right now. There’s an obnoxiously loud buzz and the door unlocks. I rush in and go towards the elevator. It’s all cold grey fancy steel. I feel very intimidating as I go up to the twenty fifth floor. Luckily, Baz’s flat is just to the right, so I don’t get lost. (Penny says I get lost turning left.) I knock on the door lightly. A few heavy steps come towards me, then the door swings open, making me take a step back.

This woman is definitely not Baz, but I’m pretty damn sure they’re related. Same skin tone, same grey eyes, same black hair. Though she has a thick white blonde streak at the front. I can’t tell if it’s dyed or natural. She’s wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans with old Doc Martens. She looks like she just came out from a seventies punk bar, and she was the headline act.

“Uh, hello,” I say very cautiously. “I’m Simon.”

“So, you’re Simon,” she replies with a weird suspicion. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be.”

“Um, sorry?”

“Fiona!” I hear Baz shout from behind her. He appears suddenly, glasses on top of his head, hair falling in a lazy wave over his angry face. He's dressed in a loose white shirts and blue jeans we picked out at W Wood. Wait, are jeans his lazy clothes? Huh, odd. He looks good, so whatever.

“Stop picking on Simon,” he growls at the women, apparently called Fiona, glaring viciously. Fiona glares right back.

“I wasn’t picking on him,” she says with bite.

Baz rolls his eyes dramatically. “Of course you weren’t.” He finally looks at me and immediately grins. “Hi, Snow, glad you could make it. This is my Aunt Fiona. Please ignore her. She’s over protective, like an old pit bull.”

Fiona scoffs loudly and smacks his arm. “I am not old, you wanker! I’m only thirty eight!”

“Not the important thing here. Now, Fiona, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He raises one eyebrow impossibly high. Fiona glares even harder.

“This is my apartment, y’know.”

“Our apartment now. And you’re going to Nicky’s. Seriously, why don’t you two just get a flat together and give me the place to myself 24/7?”

Fiona rolls her eyes. Wow, I can see where Baz gets it from. “Please, we’re too new for that.”

“You’ve known each other since high school.”

“But only been dating for a few months. We’re still in the sexy honeymoon phase, Basil,” she says with a wink. My cheeks heat up, Baz is obviously unimpressed, and Fiona looks very smug. I feel like I’m intruding on a much larger conversation.

“Fiona,” Baz sighs, “please, just go see your boyfriend. Come back tomorrow.”

She sighs over dramatically. “Fine. Leave my kitchen and living room in working order by the time I come back, please.”

Baz sighs in the exact same way. “Yes, of course, now go!”

Fiona walks past me, patting my shoulder as she goes. “Nice meeting you, Simon. Have fun.” Her nails dig into my skin for a brief moment. Not enough to really hurt but enough to sting. I don’t think she likes me that much...

Baz physically pushes Fiona out the door. She flips him off. He groans and gestures me inside. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in. I’ve almost got supper ready.”

I follow in after him, unzipping my hoodie, since this fancy place is certainly well heated. “It’s fine, man. I didn’t know you lived with your Aunt.”

“Yeah, sorry, never came up. She lives close to campus so it was easier to just take her extra room instead of trying to find another place. And I think my parents want her to spy on me for them.”

I chuckle as I kick off my trainers. “And how is that working out? She didn’t strike me as someone who would tattle to your parents.”

Baz’s lip pulls up into a smirk. “Well, she likes to be a shit and pretend she’ll tell them about my activities. But at the same time, she let me smoke half her joint last night while we watched Monty Python and ate peanut butter from the jar.”

“Oh my god,” I giggle. “That sounds amazing!’

“It certainly was. Now come on, I’m starved.”

We walk down the short hall into the actual apartment. I have to stop myself from gasping. The whole place is kinda intimidating but cool. It’s like what you see in catalogues. All white walls, modern furniture, and large bay windows with a view of the steel and brick horizon. Though there’s also enough personality to it to show that two people live here. There's lots of photos on the walls of Baz and Fiona and people who look enough like them to be relatives. Some old books are spread out on the coffee table, with lots of sticky notes on the pages in Baz's wispy handwriting. And next to the volumes are rolling papers I can safely assume are Fiona’s. Looks like a fun place to live.

“Just nearly burned supper, goodness,” Baz chuckles.

I follow his voice into the kitchen. It’s all white with fancy high tech chrome appliances. Baz is bending over the oven, making the denim stretch across his arse. I blush and avoid looking. The memory of...that part of his anatomy is still burned into my brain. It never goes away, just fades and pops back up at literally the worst possible moments. Like late at night, persuading my hand to “accidentally” slip into my pants. Or right now, when I really can’t let my hand go anywhere to relieve the heat he makes in my stomach. Fuck, my head hurts.

“Perfect,” Baz says cheerily. “Cooked all the way through.” He pulls out a pan with two herb covered chicken breasts and oily asparagus stalks. He opens the pot on top of the stove. It’s filled with absolutely divine tomato sauce. My eyes get very wide.

“Wow,” I gasp. “When you said you were making supper, I thought you meant boxed pasta or some shit.”

Baz smiles smugly. “I’m classier than that, Salisbury.”

His smirk makes my stomach even hotter. I shrug. “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Damn right. Now go sit down, I’ll bring the plates out in a second.”

He gestures to the large glass dining table near the window. There’s two rich crimson placemats across from each other, twin wine glasses already filled. The lights are low, matching the setting sun. Everything is soft orange, red, and violet. It’s really nice. This is the fanciest supper set up I've ever seen. And Baz did it for me. He's so nice. My knees wobble a bit as I take my chair. Baz soon comes out with two full plates.

“Dinner is served,” he announces grandly, placing the food in front of me. It’s chicken, asparagus, and some unfamiliar rice dish. It’s got lentils, fried onions, chickpeas, macaroni noodles, and that amazing tomato sauce all on top. My mouth immediately starts watering.

“Thank you,” I reply as he sits down. I wait for him to unfold his napkin and everything to be polite. Mum taught me that. But it’s hard. I really want to eat.

Baz gives me an amused look. “Dig in, Snow, I can see you salivating all the way from over here.”

I roll my eyes, but still grab my utensils. “Shut up.” I put a large forkful of rice in my mouth, and it’s a flavour explosion. My tastebuds are singing with joy. I’ve never had something this good. I start shovelling huge bites in, making Baz snort with laughter.

“You like it?” he asks with amusement.

“Uh, fuck yeah! What is this, ambrosia?”

Baz chuckles and shakes his head, “No, just some good spices. That’s called koshari. It’s a very famous dish in Egypt. I’m half Egyptian, so I wanted to try to make it. Connect to my heritage and all.”

I try to smile, but my mouth is partially filled with koshari, so it’s difficult. “That’s awesome. Like, it’s really cool you’ve got that connection to your culture and stuff. Plus it’s just like super delicious.”

He half smiles, lifting his wine glass like a true gentleman, “The chef appreciates your compliments.”

I lift my own and clink our cups together. Like we’re fancy or something. “You’re very welcome.”

We trade easy conversation as we eat. Baz has completely caught up in his classes. Actually, he’s probably ahead. He’s incredibly smart so I’m not surprised. I’m getting better at paying attention in class. Penny gave me a fidget spinner, which I think was supposed to be a joke, but it’s actually helped me channel some of that restless energy. Plus I’m just super interested in our therapy unit. It’s what I study social work for, to help people. Baz calls me exceedingly noble. From his small smile, I assume it’s a compliment.

Once dinner is finished, we put our plates in the sink. I try to start washing but Baz slaps my hand away.

“None of that,” he says resolutely. “I’ll do it later.”

I put my hands in my pockets. I know there’s no point in arguing with him, amazing stubborn bastard. “Alright. What should we do? I don’t really feel like going home yet.”

A strange look crosses over his face. Both nervous and excited maybe? It’s so fleeting I can’t tell before it’s gone. He nods slowly. “Want to watch a movie? I’ve got Fiona’s Netflix account.”

“Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

We walk over to Fiona’s pristine white couch. I flop down while Baz sits properly, ankles crossed, straight back, hands in his lap. Jeez, he can still be so uptight sometimes. He flips down his glasses, probably so he can actually see the TV. Fuck, they really do look good on him. I have to make an effort not to stare.

“What should we watch?” I ask. “Horror? Comedy? Drama?”

Baz shrugs. “Well, I only watch documentaries, which you’d probably find very boring. So I leave the choice up to you, Salisbury.” He hands me the remote like a gentleman offering a bouquet. I take it graciously.

“Oh thank you kind sir,” I say in my poshest accent. Baz rolls his eye and chuckles.

I flip through Netflix for a little while. Well, Baz wasn’t lying about only watching documentaries. All his recently watched are movies about forests and wars and violinists. Bo-ring! I go to the romcom section, because I love stupid tropey shit. Penny calls me a hopeless romantic. I just like that everything works out in the end. Real life isn’t usually like that. It’s nice to pretend. So I pick “Notting Hill”. It’s one my favourites.

“Dear Lord,” Baz mutters part way in, “what is this?”

“It’s a rom com,” I reply.

“So, I’m supposed to believe that a movie star just happens to wander into this guy’s store? And she kisses him impulsively? Seriously?”

I playfully smack his arm. Wow, his hands are rough, his arms are smoother than sea glass. “It’s not supposed to be realistic, it’s supposed to be fun.”

He snorts. “Well, all I can focus on is the plot holes.”

I sigh. My head, heavy from food drowsiness, lolls to my right. It takes me a bit too long to realise it’s fallen on Baz’s shoulder. Shit, didn’t mean to do that. He’s incredibly tense, every muscle pulled tight. I nearly move off, but then he relaxes. His legs uncross, and his hands fall to beside his sides. So, I guess this is okay. And his shoulder, despite it’s boney-ness, is actually really comfy. Yeah. this is cool. I’ll just stay here.

The movie keeps going, but it kind of falls to background noise for me. I know it off by heart anyway. I’m more focused on other things for some reason. Like the feel of Baz’s soft shirt on my cheek. Or that his whole jean covered leg is pressed against mine. Or how close his rough farmer-violist hand is to mine. I’ve only held it a couple times, and only loosely. I do wonder...

Before thinking about it too much, I reach over and grab his hand. Baz inhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t pull away. Our hands rest together. We stay like that for awhile. Watching the movie, just casually holding hands. Normal friend stuff. His skin is still as scratchy as I remember, creating sparks of sensation all over my palm. And his fingers are quite long. Pianist fingers, I think that’s the term. They’re nice. I like his hand. I like holding it.

Eventually, I lift my head up, and my eyes flick over to him. I just want to see if he’s enjoying the movie. Holy shit, he’s looking back. His grey eyes are staring right at me. It almost feels like he’s looking through me they’re so piercing. It makes me shudder involuntarily. His eye move lower, to... Wait is he looking at my-

And then he kisses me.

Holy shit. A guy is kissing me. More importantly, Baz is kissing me. His face is so close to mine, black hair falling around us, glasses pushing against my nose. Baz’s lips are smooth, soft, and kinda cold. Well, not cold, just chilly, like an ocean breeze. It feels nice. His kiss feels nice. Oh my god, I’m musing about a guy kissing me, about how much I like it. What the hell?!

Our mouths are still, just pressed together chastely. Like we're a pair of awkward pre-teends having out first kiss. But really I’m too stunned to move. Then Baz pulls away slightly. His eyes are a bit glassy and his breathing is unsteady. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

That’s a really good fucking question. Am I okay with this? My lips are still tingling, and my pulse is hammering in my ears. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to get close to him again. I nod. “Yeah,” I reply breathlessly, “yeah, it’s okay.”

Baz smirks, pushing his glasses on top of his head before kissing me again. He’s less hesitant this time, moving his mouth more insistently and curling his long fingers around my nape. I try to match his pace, try to pull him closer too, clutching his shirt in tight fists. I just want him so close. I let out an involuntary moan when his nails prick my skin. The slight sting makes everything go spinny. My mouth falls open, and I moan again as his tongue slowly slides across mine. Holy shit, why does this feel so much better than any kiss I’ve had before? I’ve only snogged a few of people, so it’s not like I’ve got a ton of experience, but I’ve got enough. And this is by far the best snog I’ve ever had.

I don’t even realise I’ve been leaning back until I’m laying down with Baz over me. He’s got one hand in my hair, the other trailing along my side, and a leg between mine. I’m holding his hips, dangerously close to going under his shirt. I really want to feel those muscles I saw in the changeroom, but I don’t want to do anything like that without Baz’s permission. Consent is necessary and all. But suddenly, without even moving off my mouth, Baz grabs my wrist and shoves my hand right under his shirt. Okay, pretty damn sure that’s consent. I trace the ridges and planes of muscle in his back, memorising the how ridiculously good they feel. He groans into my mouth. It makes my whole body shudder. And I full on gasp when he grinds his knee between my legs. My whole brain fucking explodes. Oh man, I am certainly “reacting” very, very strongly right now.

Through all the arousal haze, I wonder if this, what we’re doing, means I’m gay. But I don’t want to kiss Baz because he’s a guy. I want to kiss Baz because he’s Baz. Because he’s nice and funny and watched Doctor Who for me. And sure, he’s also really pretty with his wavy black hair and deep sea eyes. But anyone would notice that. I’ve noticed that other guys are pretty before. I can be straight and observant, right? I don’t know. It’s all too confusing to think about now. I just want to keep holding Baz. I have to do that.

Fuck, how long has he wanted this? How long have I wanted this? I would say I didn’t, but then why are a list of things I want to do to Baz? Like this; I push a hand into his hair. The strands are soft, slipping through my fingers, just like I thought. I clench my fist and shove his face more into mine.

Suddenly, Baz pulls off my mouth.

“Sorry,” I say (I’m out of breath it’s embarrassing.)

“No, no, don’t be sorry. Just,” he takes a breath, “want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

I’m panting very hard, but so is he. His face is flushed, eyes half lidded, lips swollen and wet. He looks fucking hot. My whole body is vibrating with energy. I want to pull him down and kiss him until our mouths are sore. And well, this couch is a bit small to stay here for that long. So I nod. “Sure, sounds good.”

Baz grins, showing all his bright white teeth. “Wonderful.”

He climbs off me. His legs are shaky, but when I stand up, mine are too. Baz turns off the telly and takes my hand, leading me down the narrow hall towards a room. Once we enter, it’s very obvious that this is Baz’s room. It’s extremely neat because of course Baz is a clean freak. But the desk is covered in a mess of books and sheet music. His violin case sits in the corner. I wonder if I’ll ever hear him play.

We stop in front of the large bed. His sheets are all black, and they look like silk. Well, that's definitely more comfortable than the couch. Baz turns towards me. His face is lit up by the setting sun, skin glowing perfectly in the fiery light. Wow, he’s somehow even prettier right now. But, is he nervous? He’s chewing on his lip, and the hand I’m not holding keeps flexing. I guess he is. Huh, I haven’t seen him anxious since the W Wood. And right now he’s much worse.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat a bit, “how far do you want to go? We could just keep snogging, that’s fine with me. Or we could do more. Whatever you feel like, I’ll be fine with.”

Fucking hell he’s so considerate. It makes my heart speed up, for some reason. But, what do I want? I want to touch him, to kiss him a lot. For him to kiss me and touch me too. Maybe in places other than my lips. Actually, fuck "maybe", I desperately want that, the need itching under every part of my skin. Even though I've never wanted a guy to do that before. Even though I’m straight. I’m trying not to think too much about those contradictions and focus on how good kissing him felt. I really don’t need a headache at this time.

“I-I’m good for anything.” Wait no, not right. “But not ‘all the way’, though. I don’t think I’m prepared for that, in every sense of the word.”

Baz chuckles, his other hand grabbing mine. “That’s fine, no worries. Neither am I, to be honest. But there’s lots of other stuff we can do.”

I look down at the floor, stomach twisting terribly with nerves. “Um, if I’m being honest, Baz, I, uh, have no clue what to do. I’ve never done this before, with a guy.”

He doesn’t say anything. I expected him to laugh, to tease me at least a bit, but instead I feel his rough pianist finger knock up my chin. His mouth is soft, and his eyes are kind and understanding. Why are my knees so weak? “It’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous. We can try things, but you can absolutely stop me if I you want to, alright?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to trace my jaw with a single callused fingertip. “I’ll take care of you, Simon.”

Bloody Hell, I’m not sure I have knees anymore now.

We lean forward simultaneously, lips instantly moulding together like we’ve been kissing forever. It feels so fucking good that I barely notice him pushing up my shirt. He pulls away when he reaches my arms. His face asks the silent question, and I nod in reply. He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. I push at the hem of his. He happily helps me get it off, whipping it on the floor. My hands instantly go to his bare torso and chest. I try to touch all of it. Stomach, chest, shoulders, everything. I feel every bit of smooth skin and sharp angle, and they’re just as wonderful as I imagined.

“You’re actually perfect,” I murmur.

Baz smirks. He clenches his stomach, showing off his stupid perfect abs. I can’t suppress the squeak that pops out of my mouth.

“Why thank you,” he drawls sarcastically. I scoff, hoping it makes up for my red cheeks. He slowly runs his hand over my bare side the across my stomach. My whole body feels electric. I shiver and sigh. “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself, Snow.”

I attempt to laugh off my embarrassment. “T-Thanks.”

He kisses me softly again, arms winding around my neck. I hold his waist tightly. I nearly pull him over as Baz spins me around and pushes me on the bed. He stands over me, cupping my cheeks as we keep kissing. Soon he breaks away and starts trailing his cool lips slowly down my neck. It feels so good my eyes roll back in my head. I fall back on the mattress, propped up on my elbows, legs still hanging off the edge. He goes further and further. Across my collarbone, down my sternum and stomach, until he reaches just above my trouser waistband. Baz looks up from where he’s kneeling between my legs, eyes so dark I can only see the smallest ring of grey, and places a tentative hand over the button.

“May I?” he asks breathlessly.

I’m gripping the sheet so hard my knuckles are white. I can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or anticipation. Probably both. I know what he means. I know what he wants to do. Part of me is still confused by my own desire, but a louder part is only thinking in sex. In “yes, yes, please, more, do it.” And it’s a lot louder.

“Yeah,” I say, falling fully onto my back, "you can.”

I lay there, staring at the blemish free white ceiling, breathing harshly, just waiting. Everything is quiet. The only sound is the distant honks from far below and my own clamorous heartbeat. Baz doesn’t do anything for awhile and I start to think if I fucked up somehow. Am I too eager? Has he changed his mind? Is this all one big stupid mistake?

But then he pulls my pants down and takes me in his mouth. Then, well, I’m not thinking very much at all anymore.

———————————————-

I roll off Baz and flop next to him on his bed. We’re both panting and sweating and a bit sticky, bare bodies glistening in the city lights. It’s very dark out now. The sun set awhile ago. I manage to twist my still dizzy head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. Holy shit, we just spent over two hours having sex. My muscles are totally dead, throbbing with blissful exhaustion.

And it hits me, again: I just had sex with Baz, with a guy, and I really, really liked it.

So does this mean I'm gay? But I liked it because it was Baz, not because it was a guy. He was so patient, so attentive, pushing just enough to get me to try new things but never so far that I was uncomfortable. I'm still unbelievably confused, but mostly just really fucking satisfied.

“Wow,” I say, voice raw and scratchy. “That was just, wow.”

Baz tries to chuckle, but his voice isn't much better than mine. “Had fun, Snow?”

“Uh, yeah! That was like the best sex I’ve ever had.” It’s only after the words burst out do I realise how fucking embarrassing that sounds. Baz laughs, of course. I cover my burning face. “I’ll shut up now,” I groan.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed, darling.” Baz peels my hands off, grinning face now hovering over mine. I can feel his foot pressed to my bare calf. He kisses my knuckles lightly. A thousand butterflies take off in my stomach. “It was really good for me too.”

His face is shiny with sweat, wavy hair all tangled because I kept pulling it (not that he complained). The city light dances across his skin perfectly. There’s a lot more butterflies flying now. I cup the back of his head and pull his mouth down to mine. I just want to be closer to him right now. It’s not urgent like before. It’s simply a lazy slide of our tired mouths, a calm way to end the frantic evening.

Baz pulls back slowly. His breath tickles my face. Then he collapses on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck. I snort out a laugh I can’t help. He’s just too adorable.

“You tired, Basilton?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “And don’t use my full name. Only my family does that.”

“But it’s so funny! Your name is fucking Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You sound like an Edgar Allan Poe character.”

He chuckles against my skin. “Then you’ll love my first name.”

My heart does double time. I look down at him as best I can. “What the hell is your first name?!”

I feel his shit eating grin on my collarbone. “A man is allowed to have a few secrets, Snow.”

Damn, I really want to throttle the smug perfect bastard. He groans as pushes himself off me, slowly rolling onto his back then sitting upright, legs hanging off the edge. He stretches his arms to the sky, showing the grand muscular expanse of his back. (There are a lot of angry red scratches from my nails. Fuck, I was really into it.)

“I don’t know about you,” he yawns, “but I’m completely knackered. I’m brushing my teeth and going to bed.” His head turns halfway, showing just one eye, gaze slightly unsteady. Is he nervous again. “You want to stay? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Honestly, I’m not sure my muscles are strong enough right now to get me home. Even so, I do want to go. So I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

His mouth quirks up. “Good.”

Baz slips on his boxers and hands me mine. He leads me to the washroom. It’s huge and pristine and white of course. Baz gives me a fresh toothbrush, which is really thoughtful, because he’s really thoughtful. The vain bastard keeps hogging the mirror though. Once we’re done with our teeth, we go back to the bedroom and Baz takes out his posh red silk pyjamas. He tries to offer me a pair but I’m fine with an oversized t-shirt that looks totally unworn.

“That thing?” Baz says slightly disgusted. “I got that from the overeager poet’s society back at Oxford.”

Huh, makes sense. It does have a Byron joke on it. I shrug. “Eh, it’s fine. Kinda funny too.”

Baz waves dismissively. “Very well. You can keep it if you want. I’m not going to wear it.”

I pull at the hem. Well, if he’s offering, sure. It’s really comfy. And or some reason, I sort of like the idea of keeping this shirt. Keeping Baz’s clothes...it’s just sorta nice.

I flop down on the silk sheets and immediately sink into the comfy mattress. It’s like a goddamn smooth cloud. I’m already drifting off into dreamland when Baz lays next to me. He pulls the quilt over us. Distantly, I feel his long arm drape across my waist and his body curl around mine. His breath hits the back of my neck, almost immediately evening out in sleep. I instinctively snuggle closer, because he feels good. This whole night has felt good. Maybe I should just focus on that instead of the storm in my brain. Yeah, I’m fine with that.

———————————————-

I’m waiting for Baz at Goat while trying to do my readings. He meets me after class, then we have lunch and talk. We’ve been hanging out a lot more on campus the past three weeks, ever since I slept over. I do that a lot more too, actually. I go to his place at least once a week, usually more. Sometimes we just eat supper, maybe watch a movie, then fall asleep in Baz’s bed. Other times we use the bed for...other things.

I’m still straight though. That's still how I think of my self. I just also like this, whatever it is. It’s a sorta weird but awesome friends with benefits thing. I think. We haven’t really defined it. But whatever. We’re having fun. Who needs labels?

“Hello, love.” Baz’s hand is a comfortable weight on my shoulder. He bends around the back of the chair and kisses me. It’s just a short, sweet greeting kiss. He does this a lot now. I like it. I smile against his mouth.

“Hi,” I reply as he sits down across from me. “How was class?”

Baz stretches out his hand. “Well, my fingers hurt, so very good. How was your’s?”

I lift up my heavy textbook. “Professor Blowhard assigned extra readings again, of course. Does he realise we have lives outside of class?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t care, obviously. Because he's a dickhead.”

“Damn right. I need scones to feel better.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Ebb already getting our food ready?”

“Ebb’s finished your food.” I jolt slightly. When did Ebb get here? Did she manifest out of thin air? She holds two plates with our usuals. A latte, sour cherry scone, and grilled cheese with tomato and spinach for me. (Baz suggested I try the last one, so Ebb made it, and it’s really good.) And a fancy turkey-pesto panini and pumpkin mocha breve for Baz.

Baz smiles up at her. He’s gotten very friendly with her. “Good day, Ebb. How’s it going?”

Ebb shrugs. “Pretty okay. I sort of want some new dishware but I’m not sure I have the funds for it.”

“Well, Christmas is coming up. Maybe I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ebb laughs and ruffles Baz’s already messy hair. She’s very friendly with him by now. “Aw, you don’t have to do that, Baz. Sweet of you to say though. He’s certainly a keeper, Si.”

She winks at me before sauntering off. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I flick my eyes over to Baz. He’s taking a sip from his overly large coffee cup. When he lowers it, there’s whipped cream on the tip of his long nose. I snort and giggle. Baz’s brow furrows.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, actually genuinely concerned. He’s always very concerned about his appearance. It’s funny, and kind of cute.

I reach out and use one finger to swipe the whipped cream off. His nose scrunches like an adorable child. I hold it for him to see.

“You’re making a mess,” I tease, then lick my finger. Baz’s eye go wide, and he might blush. It’s hard to tell sometimes, what with his complexion and being emotional display repulsed British gentry. I’m not sure why though. I just don’t like wasting food.

“Christ, Simon,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His eyes flick up to mine and he smirks. That expression makes my stomach do a lot of funny things. “Like you’re one to talk about messes," he says. "My kitchen is still recovering from your pizza debacle.”

“It turned out to be good frozen pizza though.”

“Yes, at the sacrifice of a clean oven.”

I shrug, reaching my foot out to tap his for emphasis. “I’ll destroy my own next time, alright?”

He goes a step further, tracing the toe of his Oxford on my bare ankle. It makes me jolt, but in a good way. Baz seems to have that effect on me.

“Hm, y’know, I haven’t been to your place yet. Invite me over for oven destroying pizza sometime?” His voice is smooth as butter. It makes my legs feel weak, even though I’m already sitting down. And he’s right, he hasn’t been over yet. It’s not because of anything, his place has always just been easier. That should be corrected.

“Yeah, sure,” I chirp, “I’d like that. Though my flatmate might interrogate you. She still isn’t sure she approves of you.”

Baz shrugs dismissively. “Understood. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’ll warm up to me. I’m very likable.”

I scoff. “And full of yourself.”

He pushes his foot until it’s fully under my jean cuff. I yelp in surprise. “Got you to like me, didn’t I?”

Shit, why is my face so flushed? I try to use my book to cover it, but my eyes peek out over the top. Baz is still smirking, still slowly moving his shoe up and down my skin. It’s sort of hard to say no when he’s doing that. Bastard. “That’s true, I suppose,” I say shakily.

“Exactly.” He leans forward on the table, chin cradled in his palm. “Want to come over tonight? Fiona’s at Nicky’s again. Those two need to just move in together already.”

“Yeah, agreed. And I can come over as long as you help me revise for a midterm.”

“Very well,” he sighs dramatically. “If that’s the price I must pay for a good shag.”

And I thought my blush couldn’t get any worse. I use a hand to cover my bright red face. “Baz,” I giggle, “shut up.”

He chuckles and slowly peels my hand away. I’ve found his violin calluses feel weirdly wonderful on my skin. “I’ll help you, love, don’t worry.”

Fuck, he’s always so nice. Just so kind and helpful and fun to be around. He’s like Penny, I guess, but our dynamic doesn’t feel like me and Penny. Not better, just different. My heart and stomach don’t feel twisty around her. And I definitely don’t want to snog Pen silly. Baz is just different. Whatever we have is different. I don’t know what it is, but I like it. And I certainly don’t want to stop.

———————————————-

A week later, Baz is scheduled to come over. I’m trying to salvage my stupid homemade stupid pizza when there’s a knock at the door. I run over still wearing the apron and oven mitts as I open it. Baz is standing on the other side, gym/overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He blinks at me confused, eyes big behind his glasses. (He’s been wearing them more. That's good. He looks amazing, and he needs to see.)

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, kissing him hello by habit.

“Good evening, Snow,” he says. “Nice apron.”

I look down. Right, this is Pen’s “Snog the Chef” apron. Micah sent it to her as a joke. He made the false assumption she cooks enough to need one. Both of us usually cook from a box or order take away. I chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Still trying to make supper. Come in, come in.”

I race back to the kitchen, leaving Baz in the living room. I can still see him through a small square space in the wall. (The previous tenant had a thing for cutting random holes in the wall.) He scans the room, taking in his surroundings.

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully. “Nice place.”

I laugh loudly so he can hear me. “You don’t have to be nice, y’know. I’m aware it’s gross. I tried to clean a bit.”

“I’m serious, it’s nice. Love all the Polaroid pictures. Is this blonde girl your roommate?”

“Uh, no, that’s Agatha. The other girl, Penelope, she’s my flatmate. We all went to high school together.”

“I see, that’s nice. You all look happy.”

I lean out the weird window hole. Baz is looking at the picture from the summer, when we all went to Agatha’s family beach house. I smile. That was a happy time.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Summer before final year. Can’t tell Agatha was about to break up with me a few weeks later, huh?”

It’s a joke, but I immediately regret it. Baz tenses up. Shit, that’s a serious topic, and I shouldn’t talk about Agatha like that.

“There’s no bad blood though,” I say quickly. “Like, it sucked when we split up but it was for the best in the end. We’re way better as friends. She lives in California now. She skypes me and Pen a lot, tells us all about America and shit. I sent her a British flag for Christmas last year, and she sent me a California one.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m babbling, sorry, I’ll stop.”

Baz turns his head. He’s smiling, no anger or disappointment, thank God. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. She sounds lovely. I’m not jealous. Unless I have a reason to be.”

His raised eyebrows and toothy grin tells me he’s joking. I chuckle. Why would he have a reason to be jealous anyway? I mean, Agatha’s pretty, but so is he. “No, you definitely have no reason. Maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime. You can compare expensive hair products.”

“Hey, you like my hair.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also seen how many bottles you have in your shower. And how many bottles did you bring with you tonight?”

Baz doesn’t answer. I snicker as I pull my pizza out of the oven. Well, it’s not much of a pizza anymore. Sort of a dough, cheese, and sauce liquid mess in a pan. I groan and lean my head on the cupboard over the oven.

“Trouble with supper, love?”

I look up. Baz is leaning in the window hole, arms crossed over the sill and head on his bent elbow. He looks nice like this, relaxed and all. Huh, he really is a lot less uptight than he was two months ago. That’s good, I suppose. I smile weakly.

“I think this pizza is even more of a disaster than the last one. And this time it’s completely inedible.”

He frowns sarcastically. “Aw, what a surprise.”

I take a mitt off and throw it at his stupid smug pretty face. “Fuck off, I tried!”

Baz doesn’t looked fazed by the glove projectile, just holding it as he smiles. “I know, darling, and you did your best. Now, shall I order take away?”

I sigh, shaking off the other mitt so they lay in a messy pile on the counter. “I guess so. But I’m paying for it. I was supposed to make you a nice supper, I should at least pay for the substitute.”

“Well, I certainly have no problem with that.”

I turn off the oven and take off the dumb apron. With heavy steps and hanging head, I go into the living room. Baz immediately reaches out and pulls me against him, hugging me close. I wrap my arms around his firm back, easily sinking into his embrace. He smells nice. Like cedar and bergamot, I think.

“Want to watch a movie?” he whispers, breath tickling my ear.

“Sure,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Do you like Pixar?”

He chuckles. It’s a really nice sound, washing over me like a warm, relaxing wave. “Yeah. Pixar is wonderful.”

We don’t move for a bit though. We just stay there, hugging in the middle of my living room. He’s a good hugger, so I don’t mind. I just close my eyes, breathe in his smell, and let his strong, firm arms hold me.

———————————————-

“Why does Buzz go still?” Baz asks. “He doesn’t think he’s a toy. Why would he pretend to be one when a person walks in?”

“Shhh.” I reach up to blindly hit his stupid smart arse mouth. “You’re ruining the movie.”

“I’m simply pointing out a flaw in the film’s plot.”

“Just shut up and watch, arsehole.”

Baz makes a displeased noise, but does thankfully shut up. Our half eaten take away pizza is still sitting on the coffee table. The sun has mostly set, the light of the telly the main source now. I’m junk food tired so I’ve ended up with my head in Baz’s lap. His legs are comfortable. And I like the way he strokes my hair. I could probably fall asleep like this if I wanted.

“Sorry again about supper,” I mumble into his thigh.

Baz hums softly, winding a finger around one of my curls. “It's fine, love. You made the effort, that's what counts. And I appreciate it.”

I hum, throwing an arm over his knees. “You’re nice.”

Bizarrely, he scoffs at that. “You’re the first person to say that, Snow. Most people say I’m rude and mean.”

“You're not, they're all wrong," I say immediately, almost angry for him.

He pauses for a moment, hand still in my hair. "You really think so?" he asks, voice slightly shaky.

"Yeah, of course. You tease me but you also made me supper and watched Doctor Who. That means a lot. You’re, like, snarky nice. Fuck, does that even make sense?”

Baz runs his thumb over the nape of my neck. “No, I get it. Thank you, darling, you’re incredibly sweet.” He brushes his long fingers against my ear. “Sometimes I wonder how I found you,” he sighs.

I chuckle, sound muffled by his trouser leg. “You ‘found me’ in a boring psych lecture, remember?”

“Yeah,” he whisper-laughs. “Glad I did though. Honestly...” He takes an audible breath, like he’s getting ready to jump off a cliff or something. “I think you’re the best thing to come out of moving to Watford.”

My mouth suddenly feels dry. And my heart is bruising my ribs it’s beating so hard. That was definitely one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. But it doesn’t feel like when Penny or Agatha or Mum are nice. It feels so...new. I wish there was a more eloquent word for it, for what I feel when he says something like that. It’s an all encompassing sensation I've never experienced before. Like a supernova in my brain and chest. I just can’t place it.

The end credit music starts playing. I turn my head back to the screen. “Oh hey, it’s done,” I say. “Wanna watch something else?”

I can’t see Baz’s face, but I feel him lean back against the sofa. “Sure. Anything in mind?”

“Actually, yeah, I've got something. You’ll like it.” I fumble for the remote, then start flipping through my Netflix list. I know it’s there... “Aha! This!” I highlight a movie I found yesterday. Baz leans forward with curiosity.

“A documentary on an Australian string quartet?” He chuckles. “Really?”

Shit, I thought he would like it because there are string instruments and stuff in it. But it’s not like every chef adores cooking shows. “S-Sorry, it was just an idea. We can watch something else.”

Baz puts an arm around my waist and squeezes my stomach tight. I immediately relax. “No, that wasn’t a discouragement. I’m very intrigued. I’m just surprised you’re offering to watch it. It’ll be quite dull for you.”

I shrug. “Eh, maybe. But you’ll like it, and I’m willing to try.”

Baz doesn’t answer. Well, not with words. His arm holds me even tighter, and he leans down to kiss my hair. His cool lips press lightly to my scalp. I can’t help the shudder it makes. When he pulls back, he goes back to to softly stroking my hair. I feel like I could melt into the couch.

“Put it on,” Baz sighs. “Try not to fall asleep, Snow.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, meaning it genuinely.

So the movie is objectively boring for me, because I'm not a violin student, and I’m not a huge fan of documentaries period. But there are some good parts. I like the people, following their progression and lives and how their careers influence everything around them. Baz likes that too. Though he’s also fascinated by all the fancy instruments. I just think they’re all really pretty.

“Hey,” Baz asks, “where’s your flatmate?”

“Oh she’s-” The front door suddenly slams, making both of us jolt. A few footstep sounds later, Penny is standing right in front of us. “She’s right here. Hi, Pen.”

Penny is frozen. She blinks at us in complete silence for a few long seconds. I don’t know what’s so baffling. “Hi... What’s going on here?”

“Baz and I are watching a movie.” What’s going on with her? Pretty sure that was obvious.

She quirks an eyebrow. “So this is Baz?”

“Oh right.” I gesture to her. “Baz, this is Penelope Bunce.” I gesture to him. “Penny, this is Baz Grimm-Pitch.”

“Hello, Penelope," Baz says smoothly. "May I call you that?”

“Um, sure.”

“Wonderful. Pleasure to finally meet you.” He offers his hand like the gentleman he is.

Cautiously, Penny takes the handshake. “Same for me. Good to put a face to the name.”

“Likewise.”

Their hands fall. Penny has a weird expression on her face. Her eyes keep flicking between me and Baz, looking positively perplexed. I don’t get it. We’re just watching a movie. She said it was okay to bring Baz over, but it still must be weird for her to have someone new around. She doesn’t like new people. But Baz is going to be hanging around with me indefinitely, so they should probably get more comfortable with each other.

“Wanna watch and eat with us?” I ask. “Pizza is lukewarm but still good.”

She seems even more confused, head pulling back and mouth twisting for a moment. “Uh, sure, if that’s alright with both of you.” She looks pointedly at Baz.

“It’s perfectly fine with me. Snow’s the one taking up the entire sofa.”

I scoff and smack his knee. “Fuck off.” I swing my legs dramatically, putting myself upright. It makes my vision spin a bit, so I fall against Baz, head on his shoulder. I don’t think he minds though. “There, happy?”

He chuckles and throws an arm around me, pulling us even closer together. “Positively elated, Snow.” He presses a sloppy wet kiss to my cheek. I make a disgusted noise as I wipe it off.

“Arsehole.” I kiss his cheek too. Fair’s fair. I look up, and Penny’s eyes are incredibly wide. I gesture at her. “C’mon, Pen, there’s room now.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Alright then."

She sits down, but closer to the other end. Weird. I try to make more room, putting my legs over Baz’s, pressing against him. But she doesn’t move any closer. Actually, she moves further away. Weird, but I get wanting your own space. She is watching the movie intently though.

“This is good,” she says through her pizza. “That violin is incredible.”

“It’s called the Gibson ex-Huberman Stradivarius,” Baz interjects. “Made by Antonio Stradivari of Cremona in 1713. Many say his string instruments are the greatest ever made. He’s estimated to have made 960 violins, 650 of which are still around. What I wouldn’t give to play a Stradivarius.”

“Right," Penny chuckles. "Simon said you were a violinist.”

“Yup, he is,” I say. “Which makes him a total music nerd.”

Baz flicks my far ear then kisses the other. “Says the Doctor Who nerd. And not just music. I enjoy history and English language too.”

“Hey, so does Penny! She never shuts up about that book about working people.”

“‘The Making of The English Working Class’ by EP Thompson, Si,” Penny says with some exasperation. “It’s an interesting read.”

Baz makes a contemplative sound. He’s good at those. “I’ll have to look it up. Shall we compare notes sometime?”

Penny turns her head. She seems to be examining Baz over her spectacles, brown eyes moving up and down over him. She does that a lot, examines people, like me the first day we met all those years ago. She’s assessing him, figuring out whether he’s worth her time. She decided I was. I can only hope she likes him

“I’ll think about it,” she says.

I breathe out a small sigh of relief. They get along, thank God. Neither of them notice the sigh, but they do notice the loud yawn I can’t help afterwards.

“Tired, Snow?” Baz teases.

“No,” I grumble. I rub my aching eye, which doesn’t help my case.

Baz sighs, then shoves off my legs and stands over me, all tall and looming and handsome. He offers his hand. “Then let’s go to bed. I have an early class tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay.” I take his hand and he hoists me to my feet. I’m a bit wobbly, but Baz keeps me steady with an arm around my waist. Damn, I’m tired. “Can you put away the pizza, Pen? I’ll clean up the rest in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” she says absentmindedly, already flipping to her own show.

“G’night, Pen.”

“Night Si. And Baz.”

“Goodnight, Penelope. Lovely to meet you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I sigh again, because she sounds genuine, and I don’t need two of my best friends feuding. There’s no need for unnecessary drama.

Baz and I wash up quickly. (He hogs the mirror again.) I throw on my usual baggy shirt and sweats. I assumed he brought his ridiculous posh silk pyjamas, but to my surprise he takes one of my Watford sweatshirts and a matching set of grey trackies. I look at him with utter amusement.

“Really?” I chuckle.

“I left my bag in the living room,” he says nonchalantly. “And I don’t feel like going to get it.” His pretty face become nervous for a moment, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Is it alright?”

��Oh, yeah, of course.” I curl my fingers in his elastic waistband, making him stumble closer. “You look good. You should wear my clothes more often.”

He chuckles, leaning down to capture my lips. I sigh and melt into it. Baz holds my face, slowly running his finger over my cheek. I encircle his waist. Warmth spreads from my mouth and through my entire body. Damn. No matter how brief or how long, how fast or slow, Baz's kisses are always pretty damn great.

He pulls back slightly, leaving the smallest space between us. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he whispers against my skin. “Come on, now. I’m tired and so are you. Let’s sleep.”

I yawn right on cue. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Baz pulls me towards the bed. He lays down first, putting his glasses on the nightstand, and I follow, head pillowed on his strong chest. His arms wrap around me tightly. I like when he does that. Baz always makes me feel better just by holding me. How the hell does that work? Why does he feel so unlike any friend I've had before? I don't know. And I don't care, so long as he just keeps holding me.

“Night,” I mumble.

“Night, love,” he sighs.

I drift off with his left hand in my hair, his right tracing circles on my back, and his heartbeat right under my ear.

———————————————-

“Snow? Snow. Simon.”

I groan at the voice disturbing the my sleep. A rough, callused hand shakes my arm. Of course I know who it is, so I don’t even open my eyes.

“What?” I grumble

“I have to go,” Baz whispers. “I’ve got class until seven. Lunch at Goat tomorrow?”

“M-hm.”

“And are you still staying at my place Friday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you understand anything I just said?”

I roll over, bleary eyes opening slightly. The dawn light doesn’t hurt my eyes too much. Baz is a blur of black, reddish-gold, and grey.

“Goat tomorrow, your flat Friday,” I mumble. “Got it.”

There’s white in the blur now, what I assume are his teeth in a wide grin. He leans forward. “Wonderful. See you later, darling.”

“Bye, love.”

He presses a kiss to my hairline. Even half asleep, I can feel his cool lips on my forehead and the smell of all his fancy products waft up my nose. I listen as his shoes click out the door.

I think I fall asleep again, because when I wake up it’s a lot brighter outside. I groan at the burning sunlight and bring the sheet over my head. I don’t have class until two so I don’t have to get up just yet. I just lay in bed, trying to block out the day. And under those sheets, it hits me that I called Baz ‘love’ for the first time. Huh. Guess his use of cute nicknames is rubbing off on me. It’s new, but so is a lot of stuff we’re doing, and I’ve like it all so far. I think I like this too.

My stomach growls like an angry lion. Guess that’s my cue to get up. I throw off my sheet and immediately shiver. Fuck, it’s chilly. I look over and see that Baz left my sweatshirt folded on my dresser, so I slip it on. I press it to my nose. It still sort of smells like him, a gorgeous mix of his cologne and fancy products. That makes me smile like an idiot, for whatever reason.

I saunter into the kitchen. Penny doesn’t have any class, so she’s sitting at the dining room table with a bunch of textbooks spread out. It’s like the school library threw up on it. The coffee in the pot is old, but I don’t feel like making a new one. So I pour it out and put it in the microwave.

“That’s disgusting, Si,” Penny sing songs.

“Shut up, Pen,” I reply with my most chipper voice. The microwave beeps. I drink from the mug and promptly spit the whole thing out in the sink. Oh Christ, it is disgusting.

“Told you so.”

I glare at her through the kitchen wall hole as I pour the coffee out. I start setting up the kettle for tea instead. Screw coffee. Baz says tea is better for you anyway.

“So,” she says very matter of factly, staring at me through our lovely wall hole, “Baz.”

She doesn’t continue. Nothing to explain what the fuck she’s talking about. She just looks at me with narrow eyes while twirling a pencil in her hand. I blink at her, silence hanging between us, and still nothing.

“Yeah, Baz,” I chuckle.

“You like him?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s cool.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sort of?”

I shrug, scratching the back of my neck. “He’s nice in the important ways, y’know? Helps me out when I need it and treats me well. But he also teases me. In fun though. I tease him too, and I try to be nice. I hope he thinks I’m nice too.”

The kettle whistles. I get out my Adventure Time mug and a peppermint tea bag. When I look back at Penny, she’s twisting her lips, brow furrowed together, pencil tapping on the table rhythmically. That’s her concerned friend look. She always looks like this when I make a major life decision, or when I attempt cooking.

“And, you’re happy, right?” she asks carefully.

I blink at her in confusion again. That’s a weird question. I’ve been depressed before, sure, but I haven’t lately. So I’m not sure why Penny is concerned with my emotional state. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She chuckles and her concerned look goes away. That’s a relief. I don’t like making Penny worried. “Alright then. As long as you’re happy.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, laughing at the absurdity of this.“Fun talk, Pen. Enjoy studying.”

“Will do. Get to class on time!”

I scoff, walking towards my room with lovely steaming tea in hand. “If I got to class on time, I wouldn’t be Simon Snow Salisbury.”

Penny sighs with exasperation. Now that’s a sound I’ve heard since high school. It’s become weirdly comforting in a way. Penny’s always going to be a bit frustrated with me, and she still loves me anyway.

———————————————-

“Simon, what are you doing this weekend?”

I look up from my fancy grilled cheese, mouth still full. Baz has finished his panini and is now in his “villain position” again. One long leg over the other, bony elbows propped on his armrests, fingers pressed together. It’s still half intimidating-half badass. I swallow my food. Don’t want to be rude with him.

“This weekend?” I ask. “Uh, nothing. I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

He drums his fingers together slowly. Total Bond villain. “Well, I have a proposition for something we could do.”

That makes me put down my food and shift in my chair. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “You see, my parents wanted me to come home for the whole break next week. But I couldn’t do that with my practice schedule. I still want to see them though, so I’m driving up for family dinner on Sunday.”

“Okay...”

“And the thing is...” He drums his fingers on the wooden table and chews at his lip. “I’ve mentioned you to them, and they’re wondering if you’d like to come up with me.”

I nearly drop my sandwich. I stare at Baz silently for an inappropriate amount of time. “Your parents," I say cautiously, "want me to come over for dinner?”

He nods slowly, face pinched together in nervousness. “Yes. They’re both eager to meet you, though they may not show it outwardly. But please, love, don’t feel pressured. I told them it might be too soon for this but they can be...insistent. It’s completely up to you though. They’ll survive if you say no.” He rubs his nose under his glasses. “Sorry, this is just a whole mess. I thought about not asking but I wanted to give you the choice.”

“O-Okay.” I nod, like a very slow moving bobble head. Wow, this is just a lot. I haven’t met a friend’s parents since Agatha. And we were dating, which made it very scary. This seems even scarier though. My heart is pulsing too fast. Fuck, why does this feel so intimidating?

Baz grabs my hand, thumb tracing the back of it. It immediately calms me down. “Don’t panic, love, no matter what decision you make I’ll understand. It’s not like we’ll stop speaking if you don’t come to dinner with my pushy, posh parents.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s up to you, love.”

Right, up to me... Fuck. Do I want to meet Baz’s posh family? Even though it’s scary? I mean, I guess it would be nice. They’re probably smart like Baz, cultured too, all that. It sounds intimidating, and it was with Baz at first, but I learned. And maybe I can learn with his family too. I'd like to know more about Baz, be part of another aspect of his life. That's what friends do, right?

“Okay,” I say, “I’d like to come.”

Baz’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It sounds fun, and I’d like to meet your parents. If they’re anything like you, they’ll be posh, really smart, and weirdly nice.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way to see them.”

I giggle too, leaning closer to him over the the small table. “Okay, good to know. Anything I should bring?”

“Well, Sunday nights are our ‘fancy dinners’, so we dress up. You’ll have to wear a suit.”

I frown. “I don’t own a suit.”

He nods like some thoughtful scholar. “Hm, alright. Well, I’ve got one you could borrow. Is that alright?”

“Sure. If it fits me, Mr. Tall and Lanky.” I poke his muscular shoulder for emphasis, making him laugh.

“You’re not that much shorter than me, don’t worry. So we’ll go up Sunday afternoon and leave Monday morning. I’ll certainly be drinking, so I don’t want to drive home the night of.”

“Very responsible, love, very responsible.”

Baz chuckles softly, and I do too. He looks me in the eye. All I see is kindness. Who the hell ever said he was an arsehole? He’s actually incredible.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” he asks, his voice still concerned.

I adjust our hands, so we’re smooth palm to scratchy palm, and smile as big as I can. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Baz smiles back. Not as big, but it’s still kind and calm. He leans forward and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”

And weirdly enough, neither can I.

———————————————-

AN: So the documentary is real and called "Highly Strung", and the book Penny mentions is real too. Hope you all liked this. I like writing this fluffy definitely-not-a-relationship haha. Tomorrow, "adventure" :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #university #no magic #human baz #oblivious simon #straight boy #mysnowbazfanfic

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olicitysecretsanta · 7 years ago

Text

William's First Hanukkah

Dear @fistis,

I hope you have a very happy holidays!!! This exchange helped me get over a specific writing fear of mine, so in a way you gave me a gift as well. I hope this season and next year bring you joy and dreams coming true :-)

Best,

@imusuallyobsessed

XXX

Also extra thanks and love to @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline who gave me the idea that led to this fic! And as a disclaimer, I do not celebrate Hanukkah. My knowledge came from the Internet and some Jewish members of the Olicity community who’ve helped me out. If I got anything wrong, please kindly point it out and I will be more than happy to change it! It isn’t ever my intention to offend anyone, and any errors are only from ignorance.

Rated T - light M

William’s First Hanukkah

Felicity’s phone buzzed on the massive island in the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder, only diverting her attention from the stove for a brief second to confirm it was Oliver texting. She’d been expecting him, since sunset was mere minutes away and her boys still weren’t home.

After the… crisis with Earth-X, Felicity and Oliver had come back from Central City and fit their lives together seamlessly. William was extremely receptive to her having married his dad unexpectedly, and Felicity moved in the next weekend.

Sizzling oil brought Felicity back to the present and she had just enough time to save the last two latkes before turning off the flame and picking up her phone.

‘Sorry hon, traffic jam. Accident on Jefferson. Be home ASAP ;-*’

The Green Arrow using emojis still made Felicity’s heart flutter.

She glanced out the window. Sunset was coming soon, but she could wait to light the menorah if she was waiting for members of her family. William had an after-school program for advanced students – the swell of pride she felt for him left no doubt that he was her son, whether or not she called him mom – and Oliver always picked him up after work for some father-son bonding time. They were running late, and Felicity could practically feel Oliver’s stress through the phone. He hated being late or anything running off schedule, but especially today.

This year would be the first year they did Hanukkah together, as a couple. And William wanted to participate. The apartment was decorated in a mix of blue and silver, and red and green. The Christmas tree sat in a corner by the TV, happily draped in rainbow lights and ornaments. Her mezuzah had gone up on one of the pillars that stood at the edge of the kitchen and framed her and Oliver’s bedroom door. The menorah sat opposite it, since the apartment was too high to have it placed in the windows, on a table Oliver had bought specifically to showcase it.

They’d begun decorating on the first of December, and Oliver had presented her with the table. He’d been bashful and unsure, which was absolute kryptonite for Felicity. But of course, he had nothing to worry about. The table was at the perfect height for lighting and was mostly decorative, but along the legs and edges were carvings that told the story of Hanukkah. She’d cried for about half an hour when she opened it, even video chatting her mom so they could marvel over it together.

Once she’d calmed down, the three of them finished making the apartment the perfect Christmas/Hanukkah hybrid. She tried to tell her boys that Hanukkah wasn’t even one of the major Jewish holidays, but they’d looked so distraught at her not being represented equally that she gave in to Oliver’s tendency to overshop for others. The apartment was now an even 50/50 split between the two winter holidays.

She looked back to her phone, a soft smile dominating her face.

‘I hope William is texting or you’re using the voice feature. No texting and driving! Be safe! See you both soon.’

Felicity went back to her Hanukkah feast, laid out on the island. She couldn’t cook anything to save her life, except for latkes, brisket, and sufganiyot. She’d left work early that day – perks of working with one of her best friends and being her own boss – and gotten to work on the time-consuming dinner.

Her phone buzzed again, and Felicity couldn’t suppress another smile when she saw the message.

‘Don’t worry, it’s William. Gotta keep dad on the straight and narrow. He made me add the emoji. We’re a few minutes away!’

Felicity settled against the island with a nice glass of her favorite anytime-wine. (She wasn’t entirely kosher. Sue her). Oliver might insist they bring out the fancy stuff for tonight, but she’d save that for when they were together.

A few minutes later, the last dying rays of the sun were filtering through the apartment windows and her boys hustled through the front door.

“Hi Felicity!” William said, puttering halfway past the island before he froze and looked at the counter. “Did you cook?”

“Hon?” Oliver called from the door, having overheard his son. Worry sharpened his voice. Felicity couldn’t blame him. Her cooking ventures didn’t usually go well.

“Don’t worry, my love!” Felicity went to her husband – she was still giddy she could call him that – and went up on her toes to kiss his lips. He returned the affection – always did – but Felicity saw his worried eyes flicker to the kitchen.

Felicity took his hand and led the way. “No fire alarms, no smoke damage, and all your pans made it out alive. I promise.” When the counter came into view, Felicity swept her non-wine-glass hand out like Vanna White. “On your left, you’ll find the three dishes in all the land I can actually cook.”

William was already poking around, sniffing at the food suspiciously (Felicity couldn’t be offended after the Great Pancake Reckoning), but his eyes began to clear of worry and brighten.

“Are these donuts?” he asked.

“Sufganiyot. But yeah, basically jelly donuts.”

Oliver absently kissed her head, his arm wrapping around her waist. “This looks great, hon. I’m impressed. But shouldn’t we…?”

“Yes, of course! Follow me, boys.”

Felicity went to the menorah and began to assemble the accoutrements. She still had her old menorah from college in a place of honor on the coffee table, but it was encouraged to have the best menorah possible to show deference to God. Donna had applied her tried-and-true Jewish mother guilt to get Felicity to buy a new, gleaming silver one. “The shamash candle is the one in the middle, and we light all the other candles from it. Begin by placing the candles from right to left.” Felicity placed the first candle of Hanukkah in the far-right receptacle. “Each night we add a new candle from right to left, but light them left to right.”

Oliver knew all this already, but he and William watched her with identical expression of rapt concentration. It was times like these when Felicity saw the resemblance between them.

“First we light the shamash candle.” Felicity did so, picking it up in her right hand. “Then before we light the Hanukkah candle, we recite the blessing. Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai…”

She’d practiced this with her boys, but made sure to still speak slowly and clearly so they could follow along. They also recited the special blessing for the first night, then Felicity lit the Hanukkah candle and replaced the shamash candle.

Oliver had dimmed the lights on their way over to light the menorah, so the two dancing flames lit their faces in a warm glow.

After a few moments of relishing the lights, William asked, “What now, Felicity?” His voice was low and something like reverent. Felicity felt a swell of happiness and love that he took her traditions so seriously.

Oliver held out his arm and Felicity slotted into her place against his side. Then, she held out her hand to William and pulled him in. He was still very preteen-boy about affection, but in the privacy of their home he was much more open to hugs from his dad and step-mom.

“Now, we admire the lights for a little while, sing songs, and maybe I can tell you two the story of Hanukkah. Then, after half an hour, we eat.”

“We have to wait half an hour?” William asked, and Felicity could see visions of sufganiyot dancing in his head.

“This is Felicity’s show,” Oliver interjected, using his best Dad Voice. It got to Felicity almost as much as his Green Arrow Voice, which had been an unexpected pleasure. “She’s teaching us, and we’re learning. So if she says we have to wait half an hour, we have to wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay Dad.”

Felicity looked up at her husband and saw that special type of happiness settle over his face that he got whenever William called him ‘Dad.’ She went up on her toes and he met her halfway, their lips sharing a brief caress before she went flat-footed again and ruffled William’s hair.

“We admire the lights to remember God’s miracle and protection. More than 2000 years ago, the land of Israel was taken over by Antiochus III, the King of Syria…”

Thirty minutes later, after the story was told, Felicity shared some funny Hanukkah memories of her own, and they sang songs, it was finally time to eat.

Her boys told her to go sit and they would set the table. Father and son worked as a team to lay down the plates and cutlery while Oliver carried the heavy platters laden with food. Felicity watched the meal take shape around her, and grinned when Oliver poured her a glass of her favorite middle-expensive Malbec.

Oliver had bought a table when Felicity moved in, since three people couldn’t fit at the breakfast bar. It was a circle and on the smaller side, but Felicity liked being able to see everyone without turning her head too much.

Oliver and William marveled at her cooking, and Felicity let herself have one night to preen over successful food creations. It would likely be the only night of Hanukkah where she cooked, unless they wanted to have the same meal for eight nights. Oliver had been feverishly practicing other dishes, and Felicity was his willing taste tester. They were all delicious, of course.

But tonight was Felicity’s night, and she was going to embrace it.

“You’re moving in on my turf with this, Felicity,” Oliver pretended to complain.

Felicity laughed. “Don’t worry too much, my love.” She took his hand. “Unless both of you want to eat this same meal every night or takeout for the rest of forever, we still hopelessly rely on you.”

That made Oliver and William laugh, but Felicity knew the truth in her husband’s eyes. He liked knowing that his family needed him. Relied on him. Watching his family enjoy something he created with his own hands fulfilled him.

Near the end of dinner, after a few too many sufganiyot, Oliver and William kept exchanging pointed looks.

“Why do I feel like my favorite boys are keeping secrets from me?” Felicity asked, taking a lengthy sip of wine.

They shared another long look, then turned to Felicity with two identical pairs of big, pleading blue eyes. “I know we said no gifts…” Oliver began, and Felicity immediately groaned.

“Oliver, Hanukkah isn’t really a big Jewish holiday! And traditionally there’s no gift giving. And I already got to marry you and be in both your lives and – ”

Oliver leaned over and kissed her. Normally he wasn’t in the habit of silencing her babbles since he loved them so much, but occasionally she got off track. And this time, he wanted something from her.

Felicity leaned back. “I know what – ”

He kissed her again, lingering a little longer this time.

Finally, they parted and Felicity sighed. “I’m not winning this one, am I?”

William just widened his eyes further. “We love you, Felicity. And we want to show you. With gifts.”

Felicity’s heart melted. So, this was their plan. Ply her with kisses, then her stepson unleashed the puppy eyes and heart-warming declarations. Suddenly, her eyes started to water.

“Oh, baby,” Oliver said, taking her head. “Never mind. We don’t have to give gifts if you don’t want. I didn’t – ”

Felicity shook her head, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “No, it’s nothing like that.” She turned to William. “Did you mean that, or are you just saying that so I agree to gifts?”

William laughed and shook his head. “Felicity, come on.” She could tell he was struggling between his desires to reassure her and maintain his cool-kid persona. Finally, he cracked and rounded the table to envelop her in a hug. Felicity thought her heart might burst. “Of course, I love you.”

Tears. They were unstoppable, now. Tears of happiness and joy. The little girl who’d been abandoned by her father, celebrating Hanukkah in dingy, miniscule Vegas apartments, never could’ve imagined she would end up here, her husband and step-son with their arms wrapped around her and a heart so full of love.

“Okay, okay,” Felicity said after a few moments of relishing the hugs. “I’m fine.” She wiped her eyes. “I promise! I’m fine. No more water works.” William went back to his seat, and Oliver moved back until just his arm was slung across her chair.

“Want to go get our gifts, buddy?” Oliver asked, and William nodded and disappeared into his room.

Felicity stood and moved to the kitchen, a confused Oliver trailing behind her. “I may be a bit of a hypocrite,” she said, opening the cabinet that housed her one allotted shelf of junk food that Oliver never touched. Behind a box of hot fudge sundae poptarts sat a hand-sized box wrapped in blue paper with a silver ribbon.

Oliver was a warm presence at her back, hand on her waist as she came down from her toes and turned in his arms to show him the box. “It’s for William,” she said, looking up at her husband from under her lashes. They were bare inches from each other, sharing the same air, the same heat, and Felicity saw Oliver’s eyes go black.

She tilted her head up, bringing their lips closer together. “Your gift isn’t exactly…” Eyes down, then up. Locking on Oliver’s, “fit for public consumption,” she murmured, hooking a finger in the collar of her Hanukkah sweater and pulling it down.

Her husband’s burning eyes dragged down her face and neck like a caress before he saw what she had under her sweater. He took a deep breath, pulling Felicity in even as he moved closer. He turned her to the counter, pressing his leg between hers, bending his head down…

“Here they are!”

They didn’t spring apart, but they did move to a more PG position. This wasn’t the first time William had walked in on Oliver and Felicity in some state of affection, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Felicity thought it probably did him a bit of good to see his father in a happy, committed relationship. Surely that was in some parenting book somewhere?

“Guys, seriously?” he asked, standing in the living room with two gifts in each hand and an exasperated expression.

Oliver and Felicity laughed, returning to the living room and taking spots on the couch. William sat on the ottoman, Oliver sat on the couch, and Felicity sat close to him, her legs draped across his lap. William eyed the present in Felicity’s hand and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Felicity mock-growled. “It’s been a big year. And you’re a kid. And it’s your first Hanukkah.”

“I’m not a kid – ”

“Pardon me, young adult. Either way, it’s customary that the younger members of the family get gifts.”

“Sure, sure. Do you want to open first?” William asked, holding out the gifts in his hands.

Felicity shook her head and held out the box in her hand. “You first.”

William’s face lit up and he tore into the metallic blue paper. Inside the box he found a disc, and once the initial confusion passed his face lit up.

“You… made me a video game?” he asked, turning the disc so Oliver could see it. Original artwork showed a digitalized version of William and the words “The Adventures of Will the Wise.” Oliver didn’t say anything, but his tightened grip around Felicity’s shoulders. His eyes said more than his mouth ever could. They shined with love and a little disbelief, like he couldn’t believe the life in front of him.

Felicity nodded. “I know Will is your favorite in Stranger Things, so I coded this game with an original story. It’s part Steven King, part Bioshock, with some D&D elements, and options for multi-player or story mode. It works on your existing consoles.”

William’s face fell. “Now I feel like my gift for you isn’t cool enough,” he groused. Felicity was already shaking her head.

“Whatever you got me, it’ll be perfect. Because it came from you,” she said with a smile.

William’s face went red, high on his cheeks, but he nodded sharply and pushed the two gifts into her hands.

Felicity opened William’s first, and found a USB drive disguised as a tube of lipstick. It was her aesthetic and absolutely perfect. She thanked William profusely and gave him a kiss on the cheek he pretended he hated.

Oliver’s gift was next, and he surprised her with a ninety-minute massage at one of the premier spas in Star City. She hadn’t given up her heels despite working with only Curtis from the old loft, and she often complained about her legs and feet hurting. It was intimate, sweet, and entirely Oliver. If Felicity knew anything about her husband, the gifts would only get more extravagant as the days went by. He liked to spoil the people he loved.

The trio put their gifts away and settled back in the living room to watch William play his new game. After several hours, it was time for bed.

“It might be the first night of Hanukkah, but it’s also a school night,” Oliver said, hustling the preteen through his night routine. Felicity began putting the dishes and leftovers away, still floating through the warm glow of one of the best first nights of Hanukkah on record.

Once William was down and his door was closed. Oliver turned to Felicity. Their eyes locked across the apartment, and Oliver stalked to her. There was no other word for it. His eyes went dark, and he moved soundlessly through the apartment. Felicity stayed still, more than willing to be caught, and Oliver met her in a rush of dark eyes and heat.

Felicity went up on her toes, expecting a kiss, before she somehow ended up ass over tea kettle, slung over Oliver’s shoulder and staring at his delicious butt in his jeans.

“Oliver!” she whisper-shouted, doing her best to keep quiet for William’s sake. Her husband began to carry her through the apartment. “What the frack? Put me down!”

Oliver had one arm holding her lower back to keep her on his shoulder, and used his free hand to pat her ass. Slightly harder than necessary. “Don’t worry, hon. I gotcha.”

Before she could protest again, they were in their room, Oliver kicked the door shut, and dropped her on the bed.

“Now, Mrs. Queen. Let’s revisit what’s under this sweater.” He stood in front of her, body between her parted legs, his hands running across her neck and shoulders.

Felicity threw her head back and sighed contentedly, reveling in the feeling of Oliver’s hands on her. Her own roamed across his powerful thighs, climbing up the back of his pants to one of her favorite parts of him.

“You know, you’re the only one who gets to call me that, Mr. Smoak,” she said, grinning when Oliver growled at her ministrations.

Oliver’s hands dipped below the neck of her sweater, running across the smooth satin and smoother skin he found. “We agreed you’re Mrs. Smoak-Queen everywhere else, but Mrs. Queen in our bed,” he growled.

“Hmm.” Felicity tilted her head, pursing her lips. “I seem to remember something about that.” Felicity leaned back and somehow – in a flash of unexpected grace – got her sweater and leggings off in mostly the same go.

Underneath was Oliver’s present: a dark green and black corset and panty set that just happened to match the exact green of his suit.

“Felicity,” he breathed, his eyes so dilated there was nothing but a thin ring of blue as he took her in from head to toe. When he looked at her like that, like she was everything good right in front of him, she really felt the precious gift of his love, his tremulously beating heart, placed tentatively yet boldly in her hands. “I love you.”

That was all he needed to say. No sweeping metaphors or grand declarations. His tone said it all, deep and true and filled with love.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, moving further up the bed to make room for Oliver crawling after her. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She knew what was going to happen. He knew what was going to happen. Everyone was happy with the projected outcome.

“Come on, my love.” She laid on the pillows, arching her back and keeping her eyes on her husband. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

He didn’t.

After they spent the first night of Hanukkah wrapped in each other’s arms, Felicity curled up naked against her equally naked husband, thinking about the gift for Oliver she was saving for the last night of Hanukkah. It was mostly sentiment, since Felicity used the implant, but she was sure Oliver would understand what the empty birth control packet meant.

Timing would never he right. And she wanted to grow her family with Oliver.

This was gearing up to be the most memorable Hanukkah yet.

###

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity secret santa 2017 #submission

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shipaholic · 4 years ago

Text

Omens Universe, Chapter 3 Part 2

wow, I finished this ages ago and then dragged my feet posting it for no reason. Going to aim for Sunday updates for a few weeks, see if it encourages me to write faster.

Anyway! Rome.

He/him pronouns for Crowley again.

Link to the next part at the end.

---

(last part)

(chrono)

Chapter 3, cont.

AD 41

Aziraphale spotted a familiar figure at the bar.

He was one cup down, the taverna’s house brown having been miracled into something far more palatable. That must be why he called out without thinking.

“Crawly - Crowley?”

Crowley’s back stiffened. Aziraphale cringed and kicked himself.

Crowley didn’t look around. Aziraphale considered forgetting the whole thing and pretending he’d never seen him. Crowley would go along with it, he was sure.

With a surge of feeling, he changed his mind. He crossed the room and sat down beside Crowley at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, determinedly.

Crowley’s face was stony. He was wearing funny little eyeglasses, opaque and dark, which hid his eyes and made it hard to tell which way his expression would break. Then he softened fractionally and turned toward the angel.

Something in Aziraphale’s chest cracked open. He had to hold it in before it beamed right out of him.

The conversation wasn’t friendly, exactly, but Aziraphale was willing to overlook it. The night was balmy, and the air smelled… honestly pretty ripe, which was normal in this part of town, but in a way Aziraphale had grown fond of. He wanted nothing but to sit and talk with Crowley and share the same atmosphere. The demon had obviously had a bad day. Which was probably a good thing, the wiles of the evil one going unfulfilled and all that. Nonetheless, Aziraphale found himself wanting to cheer him up.

Then Crowley spoke the magic words.

“I’ve never eaten an oyster.”

Well, that tore it. Arrangement be damned, they could be friends for one meal.

~*~

One meal, plus many, many rounds of drinks. The good stuff, this time. Aziraphale barely had to miracle it.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” he said, mostly un-slurred.

“Satan’s truth.”

“You’ve never eaten human food?”

“Don’t want to mess around with all that digestion malarkey.”

“Well...” Aziraphale gave a pointed look to the six glistening half-shell oysters arranged in a circle on Crowley’s plate. “I’m afraid your number’s up, my dear.”

Crowley groaned, picked up an oyster and slurped out the contents in one go.

Aziraphale beamed and gave a polite little clap. Crowley downed his wine, refilled his goblet miraculously, and downed it again.

“Oh, that’s weird,” he moaned.

Aziraphale was sure he was just being dramatic. “You clearly have no problem with alcohol.”

“Please. I invented it.”

Aziraphale’s skepticism vanished. He stared at Crowley, eyes enormous. “Gosh, really?”

Crowley coughed. “Well. I was… nearby, shall we say. I was present. I inspired.”

“Well, then.” Aziraphale tipped his glass to Crowley. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” The demon grinned and reached for another oyster. As it went down, his expression changed from smugness to deep regret.

“Maybe I should have started you out on something simpler,” Aziraphale mused. Some nice bread, perhaps. Or an apple. An apple would be nostalgic.

“You saying I’m too simple to eat a ball of fish goo?”

Based on the evidence, yes. Aziraphale cast around for a change of subject. “You know, of the two of us, I think I might be the bigger hedonist.”

Crowley spluttered. “Excuse you? You haven’t even tried sleep yet, what’s that about?”

Aziraphale waved an arm and miracled away the bits of oyster spackling the table. “Oh, sleep. That’s basically just fainting, and not even in a dramatic way. I mean, you’re already lying down when it happens. Nothing daring about it, my dear boy.”

“It’s plenty daring when you’re used to the office politics in Hell! Demons don’t pass out down there recreationally, I can tell you that much. Backstabbing doesn’t cover it - s’no part of your corporation they won’t stab. Best part of being on Earth, if you ask me, letting my guard down for once.” [1]

“So the most novel experience this world can offer you is… boredom?”

“Yeah. Well - not boredom like Heaven-boredom -”

Aziraphale did a good impression of someone who didn’t know what he meant by that.

“- more like… peace. Taking a load off. Even demons need a break occasionally.”

“Hardly sounds like hedonism to me.” Aziraphale took a demure sip of wine.

Crowley jabbed his empty oyster shell over the table. “I can live it up with the best of them. And then I can lie down somewhere very soft and sleep it off.”

Aziraphale, hampered by alcohol, considered this. He knew about dreams now. Sleep didn’t merely involve closing one’s eyes and skipping ahead several hours. Perhaps there was something to be said for turning his corporation off and going to a fantastical plane where Gabriel couldn’t bother him.

The memory of being discorporated came back to him. That endless queue, the brain-numbing white light. Being suspended in the void, like a body quietly washed out to sea. The lack of urgency he had felt. Was that a property of the place, soaking into him, making him docile? Or was it just him?

He shivered. No, maybe dreaming wasn’t for him.

Was it the same for Crowley? He had to imagine Hell’s waiting room was a little... spicier. Maybe it was exactly the same, but demons stood by and pelted you with flaming rocks. Crowley probably had quite a hard time of it, really. It was his own fault, working for The Adversary, but still. Aziraphale had to admit he’d be a nervous wreck if their positions were reversed.

And yet, when he wasn’t trying too hard to be aloof, there was a peculiar jovial optimism to Crowley. A determination to make the most of things. It was as though, faced with a fickle and vindictive Lower Management, he chose to embrace all experiences going, because who knew when they would be taken away? Even experiences that weren’t, objectively, fun. Like eating a slimy fish ball. Or boredom. Or reaching out in friendship to an angel, knowing all he’d get for his pains was his hand slapped away.

Silence descended on the table. Crowley shifted closer, looking awkward.

“Something wrong?”

Aziraphale rubbed his left thumb over his gem, leaving a smudge.

Without meaning to, he said, “I’ve still got your coin.”

The pause returned, with reinforcements.

Crowley took a careful sip of wine. “Yeah?”

“I never called it, of course.” Aziraphale tried to smile. “You probably knew that.”

“I… hoped. Didn’t know for sure.” Crowley’s little black glasses didn’t really hide his eyes. They shifted, flicking from the tabletop to Aziraphale, and fell short of his face every time.

“I’m surprised you gave such open-ended instructions.” Aziraphale gave a brittle laugh. “You know, I could have lied to you. Pretended I’d called it and you lost.”

“You could’ve, yeah. Not very angelic of you, mind.”

“Wouldn’t it bother you? If I showed up one day and told you... that’s it? Time’s up, get off this planet, I’ve got a very commanding coin?”

“You’re asking me how I’d feel if an angel arrived on my doorstep and booted me downstairs? Honestly? Nostalgic.”

Aziraphale blushed.

“Sorry,” said Crowley, making Aziraphale feel worse, because he didn’t know why Crowley was apologising to him. “Look - it wouldn’t be the end of the world, to tell you the truth. That’s a demon’s lot, right? Lone wolf, etcetera. Sometimes you’ve got to read the room, know when you’ve outstayed your welcome. That’s what makes the difference between ‘sauntered vaguely downwards’ and ‘pitched, shrieking, out of the nearest window’. One of them’s much calmer and you get to keep your dignity.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say. He felt far too sober, an experience that had not so far defined this meal.

Crowley reached across the table. Aziraphale thought, delirious, that the demon was about to take his hand. Crowley’s arm faltered at the halfway mark. Instead, he made a jabby motion over the detritus of food and drink littering the table.

“Look. I like this place, but it’s not all that. Smells funny, I can’t understand what the taxi drivers are saying, and I’m sorry, but I’m not getting on at all with this oyster. You’re the one who loves the Earth, angel. Properly loves it. So. Maybe you should get it.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley.

“Poppycock,” he said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Aziraphale jutted out his chin. “You know what I think? I think you’re afraid of Hell.”

Crowley cracked up.

“Of course I’m afraid of Hell! Bloody - well, Hell! That doesn’t even qualify as an insight.”

“Humans fear the possibility of Hell, you fear the certainty of it. That’s why you won’t admit that you love the Earth just as much as I do. You couldn’t bear it being taken away from you on the whim of some Lord of the Pit. Better it be taken away on my whim. At least then you get time to prepare.”

Crowley looked taken-aback. Aziraphale felt a flare of triumph that instantly nosedived towards guilt.

“I’m sorry, dear boy, that was unkind of me -”

Crowley held up a hand for silence. He took off his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes. It was startling to get a full glimpse of them again. The gold had long ago shrunk down to the size of human irises, with slits for pupils. They wandered over the restaurant, taking in the lounging humans, laughing or squabbling or digging into Petronius’s excellent food. So much invention had gone into this silly little world, where people could lie in comfort and drink wine and bicker and be fond of each other.

The gazes of angel and demon wandered slowly, like amiable drunks, back to their own table, and then to each other. Aziraphale felt as if he’d been briefly hypnotized, but was not unhappy about it. He smiled at Crowley, and saw the demon was wiping his eye.

“They’re funny, aren’t they?” he said, happily. He nodded to the world outside their little pool of candlelight. “So foolish and clever.”

“S’alright.” Crowley returned his dark glasses to his face. He cleared his throat and sunk lower on his seat. “I see ‘em at their worst more than you, mind.”

“I see a lot more venality in my line of work than you might think. But they can be extraordinarily kind, too.”

Crowley nodded. “I know. Still. Be different if I could see through your eyes.”

Aziraphale wished then that they were holding hands. Ridiculous thought. He smiled at Crowley with all the warmth in his heart.

“Your eyes are fine, my dear.”

---

[1] Crowley exaggerated. The armies of Hell hadn’t yet perfected surveillance - that would come when humanity invented electronic devices - but they still popped up in random mirrors and pools, distorted voices booming out when Crowley was just trying to go about his day. It bred an air of paranoia that followed him into sleep. The side-effects were some weird dreams, and the ability to spring from full unconsciousness to fully-dressed and upright, with a winning smile, in less than a quarter of a second. He wasn’t about to let Aziraphale know this, though. It showed weakness and, more importantly, might cost him the argument.

---

(Next part)

#omens universe fic #omens universe #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #steven universe #aziraphale #crowley #blimey this scene was just them sitting down and having a conversation and let me tell you it was hard #suspect I can only write strings of action sequences

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delos-mio · 8 years ago

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Partners- Pt 8- College Logan AU

A/N: smut, dirty stuff, NSFW, yadda yadda

6:45. You were putting the finishing touches to your make up and making sure your hair was in place. It had been a long time since you’d been on a proper date. You’d gone to the bar a couple times with a few guys, but nothing like a real date where the boy picks you up and opens the door for you and kisses you goodnight. The butterflies in your stomach were soaring and catching low in your chest. Despite Logan asking you to wear something slutty, the asshole, you chose one of your tighter grey dresses with a low scoop neck and three quarter length sleeves. You slipped into your coral heels – for a pop of color—and took a deep breath. Just as you were pulling at the rising hem of your dress, there was a knock at your door.

You shuffled out of your room, heels clicking the whole way on the hardwood floors. You unlocked the door to find Logan leaning on the doorframe, a large bouquet of flowers in his left hand. He looked over you from head to toe, lingering longer on the curve of your hips. A sly smile was on his face as he finally locked eyes with you.

“For you, babe,” he grinned as he handed you the flowers. You smiled as you took them from him, quickly turning to the kitchen to throw them in a vase with water before you left. When you turned back to him, his gaze was glued to your ass, that same shit eating grin plastered to his face. He looked delicious as he stood in the doorway- his pale blue button down unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, his impeccably tailored navy pants and blazer hugging his toned body.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm out to you. You linked with him and made your way downstairs to his idling car. In that moment, walking up to the shiny black Range Rover, you realized you never considered that Logan would have an obscenely nice car. This was college- no one had anything nice. You were all united in being dead broke and trying to take on the world. But he did say his family owned a large company, he always had really nice things, and could afford to play an expensive sport and be in a fraternity. He walked ahead of you, pulling open the passenger door and ushering you inside. He walked around the front of the car and climbed in, pulling out onto the street.

“What the fuck kind of car is this? Aren’t we all supposed to be poor at 21?” you asked lightheartedly as he pulled up to a stoplight. He laughed and spun the wheel to the right.

“A nice one. Did you want me to pick you up in a ’99 Camry or something?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“It just would have been more normal is all,” you giggled, “but this is much nicer.”

Before long, Logan was pulling up to a valet in front of a bistro you had only driven past. Everything about it screamed ‘out of your budget’, so you’d never stopped in. He walked around and opened your door, offering his hand to help you out of your seat. Logan effortlessly tossed the keys to the valet, shaking his hand and exchanging pleasantries as you passed by. The hostess was quick to come around her stand, grinning widely at your date and giving you a sweet smile. There were many couples still waiting in the foyer, clearly perturbed that you had no problem getting a table. The rest of the bistro was buzzing with conversation and every table was packed. She showed you to a quiet table near the back where the lights were low except for the dancing candle flames. Logan pulled out your chair before taking his seat, his eyes gentle as they looked across to you.

“You look breathtaking, Y/N,” he purred, pouring wine that was already chilled at the table in each of your glasses. “Sorry, I took the liberty of asking for white. Hope that’s ok.”

“White is fine by me,” you smiled, raising your glass to cheers him before taking a small drink. “You really didn’t have to do all this for me. It’s way more than I expected.”

“Why? What were you expecting?” he asked, slowly spinning the stem of the wine glass between his thumb and index finger.

“I don’t know, the bar and like, jalapeño poppers?” you shrugged, not really knowing yourself what you had planned on. Logan was frowning at your confession, his brow knit together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing it just…” he considered his words for a moment, “it just makes me sad that you only expect a $2 Bud Light.” He took another breath before speaking again. “You deserve so much more.” His words made you blush, a small smile on your face. No one, outside of your overprotective mother, had told you that you were worth more than previous men had conditioned you to expect.

“You know, Logan,” you began, forcing him to snap out of his melancholy, “you’re a lot sweeter than you let on.” He smirked and shook his head in agreement. “Also, you look really fucking hot tonight.”

“Whoa! Hey! That’s a very high compliment coming from you! I think that makes, what, two compliments I’ve gotten now?” he teased.

“Because you always get so over the top like you are right now!” you laughed, ribbing him.

The waiter came over soon after to take your order. He also apparently knew Logan as he was happy to catch up with him and ask him about how the season was going. After he had walked off to the kitchen, you looked at Logan quizzically.

“Do you know everyone who works here?” you asked, pushing your hair off your face.

“Mostly, yes. Our family has been coming here for as long as I can remember. My sister, Juliet, used to date our waiter actually.” You raised your eyebrow at this revelation. “But they ended on good terms, and I still talk to him quite a bit. Nice guy.” He topped off both of your glasses. “Tell me more about your mom. Is your father still in your life?”

“My mom is my best friend. Well, there’s Sam too, but my mom has always been my best friend. She’s always pushed me to do what I feel in my heart, even if she doesn’t always agree. But no, my dad has never been in my life.” Logan was looking at you very seriously, engrossed in every word you spoke. “He left my mom when he found out she was pregnant. So it’s been the two of us against the world.”

“I’m sorry Y/N…I didn’t mean to bring up something…”

“Oh gosh! No apologies, please! It’s something I don’t mind talking about- it’s just a fact of my life. I’m not hurt, it’s not painful for me,” you shrugged, “just the way it is.” You gave him a smile, assuring him it was really ok, that he wasn’t pressuring you into revealing some deep dark secret. “That’s not the great tragedy of my life. I have a mom who was a great mother and father. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Like I said before, you’re well adjusted for an only child.” He took another deep drink.

“Ass.” You shook your head and gave him a very half-hearted dirty look. Logan pursed his lips at you, not falling for your faux disgust. Shortly after, the same waiter had returned with your entrees, placing a plate of chicken and vegetables in front of you. The two of you began to eat, chatting about school and life and art. Something about him was very inviting to you- even though he could be brash and kind of a dick, you felt in your heart that he’d never let anyone or anything hurt you. Anything you told him was safe with him. Logan was nothing if not genuine, for better or worse. You were nearly done eating when you remembered you had forgotten to tell Logan a critical piece of information.

“So, remember how you asked me to wear something slutty?” you asked, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

“Yes. I was hoping you’d come around, but I can work with a short, tight dress,” he grinned.

“What if I told you I compromised with you?” It was your turn to smirk as he leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued.

“Go on.”

“I uh…” you suddenly became a little more flush, “I didn’t wear any panties tonight.” Logan loudly dropped his fork on his plate, the clattering of silver on ceramic ringing around you.

“Prove it,” he challenged, leaning back in his seat. It was evident he was trying to keep his composure; you were delighted to find you had discovered one of his weak spots. You thought for a moment about how you could do that with tables of chatting people surrounding you. Quietly, you pushed yourself away from the table only slightly, twisting to face Logan. You slowly uncrossed your legs, parting them slightly so he could view up the skirt of your dress, his eyes wide as you moved to close them again, crossing over the other leg. You swept your hair back over your shoulder, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “I think we should get going.”

“I think so too,” you smiled, finishing the last of your wine.

----

The drive home seemed to go by so slowly. Every moment you weren’t touching Logan was pure torture. You’d catch him out of the corner of your eye pulling at the collar of his shirt or drumming his fingers on the steering wheel- anything to keep him occupied while he no doubt was plotting what he wanted to do to you. He pulled up to the Delta Chi house, quickly throwing the car in park and escorting you back into the home you’d come to know. There were a few guys in the living room, huddled around the baseball game on TV.

“Logan, wanna watch? We’ve got the game on,” one of them called out after seeing him rush inside the house.

“Nope. Can’t,” he stated simply, leading you by the hand up the stairs to his room.

“What? You know I like baseball. You sure we can’t stop and watch?” you teased quietly from behind him. He turned quickly to face you, his expression incredibly stern.

“I’m very sure.” His grip tightened as he pulled you into his room, shutting the door and locking it behind you. Suddenly he was pressed against you, pushing you against the back of his door. His mouth was hot on your neck, pressing sloppy, urgent kisses down to your collar bone. A breathy moan came from you as you threaded your fingers in his previously quaff hair. “I need this off you,” he pleaded, pulling at the fabric of your dress. “I need to see that pretty pussy of yours.”

You stepped out of your heels as he shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Logan took a step back to take you in fully as you disrobed. Slowly, you peeled yourself out of your dress, tossing it off to your right. Logan was tugging at his bottom lip all the while staring at every inch of your exposed skin. Something in his eyes was soft, as if he was looking at painting in gallery, marveling at the human art before him.

“What now,” you asked raising an eyebrow as your fingers slowly trailed to your folds, “Daddy?” Logan’s eyes were bulging as he watched you slowly play with yourself, your chest rising a little more at each pass. But he couldn’t take it any longer. He took two long steps and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you off the floor and over his shoulder. You giggled a little and softly hit his back, playfully asking for his to let go; he responded with a swift smack to your backside, making you gasp out in pleasure. He repeated the motion once more on the other side before laying you down on his bed.

“We need to get something straight,” he said, unbuckling his belt, letting his pants drop and pool on the floor. “This,” he walked up between your legs, spreading them wide, “is mine.”

He inserted two fingers into your dripping entrance, a moan falling from your lips. Logan left his fingers inside for a moment as he kneeled down before you. He peppered kisses along the inside of your thighs, his breath warm as his plump lips ghosted over your most sensitive area. When he finally ran his tongue along your clit, your back involuntarily arched up off the bed. The moan that came from you as he sucked gently you worried would reach the boys huddled around the TV. But the way Logan was moving his mouth against you was sending you into overdrive. He began to curl his fingers in time with the motion of his tongue; your fingers balled into fists, becoming one with the duvet on his bed. Your thighs began to quiver as your climax quickly approached- he curved his fingers once more, letting his tongue slide up and flick over your sensitive bud. In that moment, you came undone, Logan’s name loud on your lips as you trembled around his head. He took care in cleaning you up, savoring each drop of your sweetness before crawling up and pressing a long kiss to your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he smiled, petting your hair as you tried to catch your breath. “Can you keep being a good girl for me?” he asked pleasantly, his broad hand running up and down your side. You nodded your head, hanging on his every word. “I need you to be a princess and ride my cock.”

You bit your lip and put your hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back. Logan began to grin as you straddled him, lining yourself up with the head of his cock, already moist with small beads of precum. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your walls hugging him tightly. You began to grind your hips on top of his, working him over. Logan reached his hand up to your breast, roughly tugging at your nipple. His eyes were on your face, watching as you continued to bounce up and down on him. The way your lips parted, the way your body looked at it moved above him, everything was hypnotizing to Logan.

“Look so fucking good, bouncing on me like that,” he praised, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. His movements became more erratic as he felt his length begin to twitch, his own orgasm nearing.

“Cum for me, Logan,” you purred, crashing onto him harder still. Hearing his name like honey on your lips was all he needed to find his release. His face contorted as he released himself, his grip loosening only slightly. You gently eased off his cock, rolling on your side next to him. Logan crawled up to the pillows, pulling back the blanket for you both to crawl under. You smiled and joined him, quick to nuzzle up against his neck.

“You’re real saucy when you want to be, you know that?” he said, gently passing the pad of his thumb over your taught nipple. You laughed at the accusation, knowing full well he was nothing short of amused. You gave him one last long kiss before letting your eyes flutter shut, quietly drifting off to sleep on Logan’s hard chest.

#logan #westworld #logan westworld #logan x reader #westworld au #partners #masterlist #ben barnes

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ecchima · 8 years ago

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Human is beautiful, perfect is boring

Note: This is not a new chapter, I just forgot to post chapters 4 and 5 on tumblr! We are still working on this fanfic tho, don’t worry! We just are really busy lately

Words: 3,8k Rating: T Co-author: @smuttybugggu AO3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Not as Much Flavor as You

After a fun drive from the modeling agency to McCree’s place, Jesse leads the way to his apartment with excitement written all over his face. It almost reminds Hanzo of an overly energetic, but cute, puppy.

The first thing Hanzo sees when he enters is a big couch, directly in front of a flat TV screen hanging on the wall. McCree puts his leather jacket on a coatrack and motions for Hanzo to do the same.

The apartment is in fact composed of two floors, Hanzo discovers. The first floor being the main living area. McCree doesn’t seem to have a table other than the american counter in front of the kitchen. The second floor is, in fact, a mezzanine giving access to four doors. The remaining sunlight comes in through a wall made out of glass in front of them. Hanzo can’t help but to admire how simplistic, but modern and practical the design looks. McCree pushes a button, flicking the lights on and giving the whole place a more cozy ambiance.

“Here’s my cave,” Jesse jokes, cracking a smile on his face.

Hanzo smirks. “It is very nice.” He watches as Jesse takes his cowboy hat from the coatrack and puts it on his head.

"Well…Dinner’s not exactly ready yet so how about you watch me cook it for ya?”

Hanzo removes the jacket Jesse lent him and nods. “Very well.” His smile subtly twists into a sly expression as he cants his head and stares at the other man. “Since I told you more about myself during our last dinner, I would like to hear something about you in return.”

Jesse opens his fridge’s door and pulls out the pre-portioned and marinated foods, setting them on his countertop. “Fair enough, Mister Shimada.”

Hanzo merely watches McCree fumble around, gathering spices and pans to cook in, before he strolls after him and boldly takes the cowboy hat right off his head. “You should not block your vision while you cook.” Jesse immediately feels for his hat in surprise and sends Hanzo a confused glance. “Do not worry, I will take good care of it,” he adds with a wink and drops it on his own head. He likes how easy it is to make the other blush.

Hanzo then casually makes his way to one of the high stools facing the kitchen and takes a seat, gazing at McCree with a warm smile. His arms are crossed on the tabletop and his chin rests against them.

“Alright, alright,” McCree replies with a defeated hum and bows his head. “Just take good care of it, sugar.”Jesse returns a wink of his own. “So, what d’ya want to hear about?”

Hanzo hums, considering his options for a few seconds. “How did you become a soundcheck technician?”

Jesse programs his oven, sets the meat on his grill and checks his frying vegetables before turning to face Hanzo, leaning back on the counter.

“Actually, I don’t rightly remember how I got my guitar but I remember learnin’ how to play it. I used ta spend a lotta time in the streets as a kid ‘cause my Ma had to work as a waitress at a dirty ol’ bar everyday. She used ta let me ‘go out and play’,” Jesse says while he makes little air quotes with his hands “There was a television store down the street and the owner really liked music. I don’t think there was a day where we couldn’t see a guy playin’ on the screens. That’s how I learnt ta play, by watchin’.”

Jesse turns his back to Hanzo again, checking on the food, as he goes on. “When I got good enough ta play a few classics, I started playin’ on the streets.” Hanzo watches Jesse’s shoulder moving as he chuckles. “I used ta spend all my money in sweets an’ I ended up gettin’ cavities.”

“That must have been painful,” Hanzo says. “I remember when Genji managed to get cavities. He refused to eat anything solid for a week.”

They stay silent for a little while as Jesse seems to find the cooking of the meat much more interesting than the end of his story. Hanzo clears his throat and shifts his weight to one side.

“What happened then?” he prompts patiently, watching how diligently Jesse cooks. He can’t help but admire how much attention the other man keeps on the food. It’s...charming to Hanzo to see McCree multi-task with the grill and several other pans on the stovetop.

Jesse finally tears his gaze from the grill and smiles warmly at Hanzo, crossing his arms on his muscular chest.

“I told ya, I played on the streets. It’s…it’s An interestin’ experience. You meet a lotta people, ‘specially on the subway. One day I met a dude with an electric guitar, real nice fellah. We became friends and he taught me how to do maintenance for instruments. So when the guy started a band with a bunch a other dudes he found on the streets, he asked me to lend a hand here an’ there. After some time, I became known for it and now it’s my job.” Jesse stops talking, drawing his full attention on Hanzo, a warm smile slowly growing on his face. “Why are ya smillin’ so much, darlin’?”

Hanzo leans back on his stool and starts spinning back and forth. "I just admire your accent. It is rather cute."

He doesn’t miss the way McCree sputters at the admission and quickly bows his head to hide the surprise. But if the other man says anything, Hanzo can’t hear it under the hiss of meat sizzling on the grill. He lifts his nose in the air and takes in the pleasant smell of whatever Jesse is cooking. Carne asada is what he called it, but Hanzo wasn’t entirely sure about the ingredients or what it tasted like.

“So, is it almost ready?” he asks, leaning against his arms again, lips pursed into a small smile.

“Yep! I hope you worked up an appetite, darlin’!” It almost makes Hanzo melt with how warm and affectionate McCree’s voice is.

Hanzo’s eyes dart up and down a few times, taking in the sight of Jesse cooking so attentively. “You could say that,” he teases and nibbles against his bottom lip. He watches as Jesse turns the oven off and pulls out a thin pan, oblivious to Hanzo’s flirting.

“Biscochitos are done cookin’, just need to let them cool,” McCree mutters as he slides the pan onto the kitchen countertop and focuses his attention back on the grill. Hanzo watches as Jesse slices off a thin piece of steak and nibbles on it. “Yessir. Seasoned just right!” With that, the other man quickly gathers a set of plates, and starts scooping food out onto the dishes.

Hanzo perks up as McCree sets the food on the counter, the plates rather elegantly composed. He leans forward, smelling the dishes and trying to guess which spices McCree used.

“Lemon?” He asks, raising a curious brow at the cowboy.

“Jus’ try it an’ tell me what you think.” McCree sounds a bit anxious but smiles nonetheless.

Hanzo carefully cuts a bit of the meat and puts it in his mouth, savouring it. The taste of onions hits first, then the lime and lemon, contrasting with the taste of the meat pleasantly. When he starts munching, Hanzo finds he quite likes the texture too.

“It is delicious,” he says, watching as the anxiety drains from Mccree’s face, replaced by relief. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

McCree starts picking at the food on his own plate. “I’d like ta say that my Ma taught me but I just watched videos on the internet. What about you? You know how to cook?”

Hanzo finishes his mouthful of meat and dries off his mouth on his napkin, taking all his time to answer. “I know the basics but I rarely have the time to cook myself. Genji is a catastrophe in a kitchen so we mostly go out or buy ‘microwavable stuff’,” he says, smirking.

McCree snorts. “You’ll never let me forget I said that, will ya?”

“Nope,” Hanzo answers, popping the word. “May I get a drink?”

Quickly, McCree stands up and slaps a hand to his face. “Ack! Sorry, darlin’! How could I forget! Uh...Let’s see here!” He rushes to the wine rack, under the counter and scrambles for a few bottles of wine. “Any kind ya like in particular?”

Hanzo merely smirks at how panic-stricken Jesse looks. “Since I recommended the ramen you tried, I’ll allow you to pick a kind for me.”

McCree hesitates and rubs his chin. “How about some Malbec? It’s the most typical wine to go with Carne asada.”

“It sounds good.” He answers, leaning back on the stool as he watches McCree pour the wine in two glasses. When the cowboy offers him one of the glasses, Hanzo looks up at him.

“Thank you,” he says, gazing into the other’s warm brown irises when something else catches his attention. There’s a lump on McCree’s brow, right above his left eye. He takes a few short sips of the wine, but he’s too distracted to fully admire the taste. He waits until Jesse is seated and keeps staring at the other man “What happened to your eye?” he asks, frowning in concern.

McCree seems confused so Hanzo leans against the counter and pokes the lump, careful to avoid staining his outfit with the food. He watches as a blush appears across McCree’s cute freckled face.

“Oh, I just... Bumped my head on the counter… When ya texted me earlier, I dropped my phone.”

Hanzo hums, an idea coming to life in his mind. “Does it hurt?”

McCree chuckles. “A bit, but I reckon I’ll survive this.”

Hanzo smirks. “If it hurts, then let me cast a spell on it.” He says, using one arm on the counter for support, and he leans closer. His other hand comes behind McCree’s head and pulls him gently until Hanzo can kiss the lump. He can feel the other man take a stuttered breath as a pair of warm hands land on either side of Hanzo’s face. Before he can chicken out, Hanzo presses a line of kisses on McCree’s face--one on the eye, two on the cheek and one right above his mouth. He takes all his time to lay one final kiss on McCree’s lips, looking at the other in the eyes when he pulls out.

“You taste like meat…” came McCree’s hushed answer.

Hanzo snorts and sits back on the stool. “And you taste like cheap cigars.”

“Cheap?” McCree asks quietly with a mock pout. “But they have such flavor, darlin’.” He flashes a cheeky grin as he leans closer and kisses Hanzo’s cheek in return. “Not as much flavor as you though.”

Hanzo nearly drops his fork at the sweet gesture and quickly hides a snort behind his hand. He’s so glad he found McCree at the bar a few weeks ago, he thinks as he feels his heart flutter and a fond smile soothes his features. When he leans back in his chair, however, Hanzo notices that McCree’s plate doesn’t contain any meat. He raises a single brow in question and looks back at his lover.

“You did not make any for yourself?” he asks, gesturing to Jesse’s plate. He notices there is some kind of salad instead of the carne asada.

“I--uh…” McCree starts; he seems a bit uncomfortable. “I’m mostly vegetarian.”

Hanzo feels ice replace the warm feeling in his guts. “...But you ate the ham in the ramen. Did you do it only so I would not think badly of you?”

McCree starts gesturing wildly, he almost knocks the wine bottle away as he blurts out. “No, no sweetheart! I said 'mostly'! I do eat meat!” He pauses. “Sometimes..."

Hanzo feels some of the dread fade away with relief, but the frown doesn’t leave his face. “If you had told me, I would have asked you to cook something we can both enjoy equally.”

McCree looks back at his plate sheepishly. “I made enough of the vegetables for two,” he offers with a smile. “Besides, I know I’m better at cooking meat.”

“If you’re sure,” he replies, his frown slowly turning into a pout instead. He decides not to push McCree anymore about the subject and takes another bite from his food.

They continue to eat, chatting and gossiping about people at their work. Hanzo complains about McMilan for a while but stops when he notices McCree turned silent.

“What is the matter?” He asks, worried. “Does your head hurt?”

“Nah, I was just wonderin’ if you’d like ta watch a movie with me while we eat dessert.” Jesse smiles softly, almost sadly.

Hanzo reaches out and gently brushes McCree’s hair from his face, admiring his brown eyes. “What did you have in mind?” He lays his hand on Jesse’s cheek, his thumb gently brushing the other’s scruffy beard.

McCree leans into the touch and hums. “How about we watch Junkenstien’s Revenge?”

Hanzo makes a teasing chuckle. “Ah, a horror movie? You want an excuse to keep me close to you, do you not?” he asks with a wink.

The other man grins in return and scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

Hanzo’s heart flutters at the sight. Damn that man is gorgeous , he thinks, eating the last bit of food from his plate and putting the fork down. “Alright then,” he says with a smile, standing up.

“Perfect! You can go on the sofa, I’ll get the cookies!” McCree answers excitedly.

“May I charge my phone while we watch the movie? I would not like missing a call from Genji if he needs something.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. There’s an outlet near the couch.”

Hanzo makes his way from the dinner table to the sofa while McCree fumbles around in the kitchen. He gently plops down against the comfy leather cushions and relaxes against the couch. It feels nice and plush against his back; more comfortable than any typical bed. He doesn’t have to wait long before the other man sits next to him with a bowl and a blanket in his hands, a huge smile splitting his gorgeous face.

“So,” Jesse begins as he leans closer to Hanzo and picks up his television’s remote, “You’re familiar with Junkenstein then? This one’s a sequel to a previous movie,” he explains and waits for the screen to flicker on.

Hanzo nods. “I am, but I have not had the chance to watch it. Free time is very hard to come by with my work. My brother, Genji, is a big fan of them both,” he says, picking up the case where he keeps his glasses and putting them on. When he looks back at him, Jesse is staring.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nothin’! I was just thinking you look handsome and smart with glasses on. Not that you’re not smart, ‘cause I think you are but y’know, the glasses makes you look more intellectual?”

Hanzo chuckles at the comment and quickly reaches for one of the treats in the bowl. “I see. Well, I’m sure you would look nice with glasses as well.”

McCree snorts. “Yeah, I’d look like a nerd. Do you like the biscochitos?”

Hanzo feels so tempted to reply back with how McCree would be a handsome ‘nerd’, but decides against it. “Yes. I always loved sweets but it is the first time I’ve tried something from another country than my own. Genji made me try some American treats before but they all tasted awful,” he emphasizes with a disgusted shiver.

A sudden mad cackle coming from the t.v. interrupts them as a bold ‘Junkenstein’s Revenge’ title card flashes on the screen. McCree makes himself comfortable on the sofa and beckons Hanzo over. The later settles himself, leaning on Jesse and deciding that this is even better than the cushions. The blanket is then splayed out on their legs and the bowl falls into Hanzo’s lap. McCree’s hands find the edge of his sweater and slides beneath it, making Hanzo squirm.

“Sorry, darlin’, my hands are cold,” a low voice drawls near his temple.

Hanzo opens his mouth to reply, but no words form as the plot of the movie draws him in. It takes place after the defeat of Doctor Junkenstein’s monster from the previous movie. The town Aldersbrunn called on four heroes--an old, hardened Soldier, a mysterious Alchemist, a loner Archer, and a kind-hearted Gunslinger--to defend the villagers from an onslaught of ‘zomnics’. Hanzo mentally scoffs at the wonky looking zombie omnic design.

Along with the danger of the zomnics, there was the threat of a cloaked beast called The Reaper. Black mist followed him with every step and movement and he had a terrifying pumpkin in lieu of a head. Hanzo suspects from the start that he had some kind of history with the Soldier, due to passing comments.

After nearly half an hour into the movie, Junkenstein’s monster rears its head once more and attacks with the Reaper. The four warriors fend off the pair after an exciting battle with guns and bow and science and gunshots. And then, Junkenstein appears alongside a large wave of more of his robotic horde.

The group took up defensive positions directly in front of Aldersbrunn’s castle doors for the final confrontation: the Soldier guarding the central bridge with the Alchemist by his side and throwing healing potions to the three when they were injured, the Gunslinger standing on the upper staircase picking off amazing headshots left and right, and finally the Archer perched up on a small platform high above the courtyard, calling out directions and scouting for tactical advantages as his arrows rained down.

Hanzo munches on his cookie anxiously as he watches the soldier manage to land the final bullet into Junkenstein’s heart and the heroes all sigh in relief. But then--Hanzo feels his breath lump in his throat in disbelief--a shrill laugh disturbs the peace. A winged form descends from the air, chanting in foreign tongue. The Witch who brought Junkenstein’s creation to life, and formed a pact with the Reaper’s soul, has arrived.

All the villains are revived and a final stand begins. It’s a shocking moment, so much that Hanzo sits up in alert and clenches a handful of the blanket covering him and McCree.

The heroes are overwhelmed by the zomnics coming to destroy the door, the Alchemist has to stop attacking to focus on her healing but there’s just too many enemies...Until the Gunslinger manages to kill fifteen zomnics with his six shooter--despite being critical of details, Hanzo overlooks the error to enjoy the movie--which allows the Soldier and the Archer to focus on the enemies. The Witch went down first, soon followed by the Reaper and the Monster. The fight ends when the Archer puts an arrow right between Junkenstein’s eyes and Hanzo relaxes back against McCree. He remains speechless as the movie ends on a bittersweet note: the villains are defeated, but the Soldier muses at the loss of his old comrade. The Alchemist bids her allies goodbye and departs to travel the country alone. The Gunslinger and the Archer enjoy one another’s company, helping to repair the damage caused by the fight.

When the staff roll appears on the screen, McCree not-so-subtly yawns, stretches, and hooks an arm around Hanzo, pulling him closer. “That was a good choice, huh?”

It makes Hanzo smirk as he plays along and rests his head against the other man’s shoulder. “I can see why my brother is such a fan of the series.”

“So, which one was your favorite, darlin’?” Jesse asks and nuzzles his cheek against Hanzo’s head.

He taps his chin in consideration and his eyes narrow thoughtfully. “I believe I enjoyed the Gunslinger’s character the most. The way he spoke reminded me of someone”--Hanzo reaches out and teasingly squeezes McCree’s thigh--“and it was charming. But I did notice some...tension between him and the Archer. Good tension,” he clarifies with a smile.

“He is a fancy shooter. I’ll give ‘im that!” McCree chuckles. “Always found myself fond of the Alchemist. She’s a nice old lady, kind of gives ya a ‘grandma vibe’.”

“I do not like her much…I do not trust her alchemy,” Hanzo answers just as his phone starts ringing. He stretches a hand to grab the device laying on the table. The screen shows notifications for about ten messages. One from McCree, eight from Genji and one from Jack. He rolls his eyes as he momentarily ignores his brother’s texts and opens Jack’s instead.

It’s a lengthy text, but Hanzo isn’t surprised; Jack never sends multiple messages. It starts off with the usual ‘Hello’ before he gets to the point. Hanzo learns that a few weeks after his upcoming photo-shoot with James McMilan--he barely contains the urge to roll his eyes thinking about the pompous fool--he’ll be having a session with a very prominent omnic model that’s been rising in popularity for a few months. He’ll be visiting the country all month before the photo-shoot happens though and stopping by the agency in mere days.

Hanzo simply tilts his head to one side, glances back at McCree, before he smiles and sends a response to his manager: Apologies for the abrupt request, but I will need to take tomorrow off. I am not feeling well.

Within a minute, Hanzo gets a reply: Very well. Feel better, don’t worry about coming in this weekend. Rest up.

“What’s that smile about?” Jesse asks, scruffing his beard playfully against Hanzo’s temple.

“I asked my manager for a day off tomorrow so I can stay here tonight.”

“Funny, I just sent mine a text too. Poor Jesse McCree has a cold and he can’t even breathe,” he explains, waving his phone back and forth in glee. “Aren’t we both terrible?” McCree added with a wink and beckons him to the couch.

Hanzo purses his lips as he approaches and sinks back down beside McCree. “I suppose I do not know enough about bands or how they work. A soundcheck technician has a manager?”

McCree shifts uncomfortably behind him. “Well, I said manager ‘cause it’s kinda the same job. At least I think it is? I mean, that guy tells me when and where I’m needed so…”

“Ah. I see,” Hanzo replies quietly, fatigue from such an exciting day finally catching up to him. He closes his eyes in an attempt to rest them. He’s barely awake when he hears the telltale sound of someone taking a picture with their phone.

Hanzo gets one last whiff of McCree’s pleasant cologne, enjoys how comfortable the other man is, before he slips away into sleep; never moving from his spot on the couch for the entire night.

#mchanzo #human is beautiful perfect is boring #model au #ecchima writes #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada

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