#jesus told his mother that john was his husband when he said 'mom meet your son-in-law'

[majorbaby]

can't remember if it was a tag or a post i saw but if laura palmer is jesus then donna is the disciple john

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Love on the brain

Ch 2.

Series Master list

CW: check the main master list for warnings.

It has been three days since the fight you had with your husband. During that time, the police interviewed you, asking if you would like to press charges. You were on the fence but, in the end, decided not to go through with it. There was an inkling of hope that him having the cops called with the threat of ruining his career would be enough to get that damn divorce and from there you'd figure it the fuck out. The clinic had given you information on domestic violence and different hot lines to call for help. There was the option of going to a women's shelter but you weren't going to put your children through that indignity. All three of them have had enough of that.

Kenny's mother had come by the house on day two. She had with her a roast and a sorry apology on behalf of her son. The woman was detestable, who could raise a man so cruel and then say “Maybe if you did your wifely duties right, he wouldn't act this way.” After she said that Kenny would stay at her house and that she would bring the pastor and him by so everyone could come to Jesus.

It had taken every ounce of your being not to swing on her. If you stayed, you were sure you'd be meeting Jesus face to face, so that he could ask you “Child, why didn't you take the boat we sent you?”.

At the same time, though, you knew you were in a rock and a hard place. You and your children were immigrants. You were a stay at home mom, which in hindsight was stupid. Until you knew for certain how you were going to house and feed your kids, you were stuck because money was a thing, and children couldn't live off of hope and love.

“Mom!” Jabari came running into the kitchen, he was out of breath and had a big fat grin on his face. “Mr Price is at the door!”

You stopped chopping the celery for dinner and wiped your hands on your apron. John Price had been nice enough to come to you and your family's rescue three days ago, and you felt bad that you didn't have the time to thank him. You peaked out the back door window to check on the girls, both of them happily playing with dolls together. Jada was busy trying to explain to Jayla the little storyline that was being played out, and Jayla was only too happy to just be included. After making sure they were okay, you followed the sounds of Jabari excitedly chattering away by the door.

“Actually Mr.Price, I'm like the best when it comes to rugby. It's sorta like football except without the padding!” Jabari laughed.

“You play football?” John had asked.

“The American football, sir.” He answered, “but honestly, I'll play any sport as long as it has a ball. I tried to get mom to let me play hockey once, but she said her pockets could only take so much.”

“Jabari, don't have this man thinking we're poor.” You scold as you scruff him by the neck. Your voice doesn't match the scolding, though. You sound absolutely smitten by your son and how he's in a good mood again. The last three days, he's been hovering around you and his sisters and insisting that you all should sleep in the same bed. He only wiggles out of your grip and laughs.

“Run along so the adults can talk.” You tell him.

“But mom” He whines loudly, holding onto your arm.

“Listen soldier,” John smiles at him, “how about you give me and your mum a few minutes and after I'll get the guys to play a game with you, your choice.”

Jabari doesn't need to be told twice, and he is dashing off to his room, saying that he is gonna teach the Brits about real football. You only laugh and shake your head before turning to John. Your body feels warm from embarrassment, which is more like shame, to be honest. Shame that he had seen you and your children at your lowest, and that was his first time meeting you.

“Uhm…” You search for the words, the right words that convey how thankful you are. “Listen, thank you for-.”

He stops you before any more words could be said, “You don't need to thank me for doing the right thing, miss.” His eyes, so pretty and blue and surprisingly warm. When was the last time you even had someone look at you with such warmth and understanding?

You can't bear to hold his gaze any longer, and you look away. “John, I have to pay you and your friends back for intervening. It would make me feel okay.”

He doesn't say anything else and just hums once. “Is he coming back?”

You don't say anything and cross your arms around your stomach. You want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. When the silence is loud and clear, you expect judgment. Instead, he just hums in thought again.

“I never got your name miss.” He says.

“It's Imani.” You finally look back at him. He's now leaning against the frame of the doorway, a thoughtful look on him. John nods his head once and smiles. There's still no judgment.

“Well, I want to leave you my number and the boys’ number so you can call us no matter what.” He's already pulling out his phone.

“Oh, John, I couldn't-” You're shocked, that's for sure.

“No choice, Miss.” He is firm on this decision, and somehow that makes you flustered. “I already spoke to the guys, and we very much want to make sure you and the kids are safe, at least until the bloke is handled for good.” His voice drops low at the mention of your husband.

You don't say anything else as you pull your old little phone out from your apron pocket and let him input his number and his roommates numbers into your phone. He then gets your number just as Jabari comes running back to the front door. He's got his football, and he's pulling on John's hand to take him to the backyard.

“Come on Mr.Price!” Jabari is insistent, “we just gotta make sure we stay out of Jada and Jayla's play party. The girls get testy when you bother them.” He laughed.

“Sure thing, soldier, just let me call the guys over, and we can get to it.” He looks to you asking for permission.

You only nod with a smile, “I don't mind, stay out of my flower beds…” you bite your lip between your teeth, deciding to take a risk, “We're having chicken and dumplings tonight, you all can stay over for dinner.”

John is clearly surprised, but Jabari is already answering for him. “Yeah, Mr. Price and his friends would love to stay!”

“Jabari.” You warn, but your son is already pulling John along to the back kitchen door.

As soon as the two of them were outside, your son could be heard yelling over the fence. “Don't worry about the front door, Mr.Johnny, just hop the fence!”

“I hope that boy doesn't make it a habit of hopping the fence.” You mumble and get back to working on dinner.

When dinner comes, your dining room table has the leaf put in, and four extra chairs pulled up. Each one of the very solid men at the table is covered in grass stains and is laughing (well ¾) with your children about the impromptu football game.

“You really are quick on your feet.” Kyle says to Jabari, “you must be a right terror on the field.”

“Jabari is quick because mom says that he got his speed from out running Nana's switch.” Jada is busy sitting her doll in Simon's lap, ignoring her brother's squawks of protest, “you two have to share a seat since that's where Anni normally sits.”

Simon, to his credit, takes it all in stride and only grunts in agreement. He isn't wearing the skull mask from before, just a plain black one. It's ridiculous really, seeing him hold the raggedy Anne doll so politely.

“So Imani lass, ya’ve been here for a few months, ya likin’ it's far?” Johnny (who, for some reason, Jabari has been allowed to call Soap).

You bring out the large pot as he's asking this and set it down on the table, “I like it so far, but doing any type of conversion for temperature, shopping and my personal enemy asking for tea and getting hot tea and not cold has been an adjustment.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow, “Cold tea?” There's a look of something on his face. It's the same look you get from Kenny's mother when you put ice in a cup and poor hot sugary tea over it.

By this time, Jabari had brought out the two pitchers of iced tea and set them on the table. “Well duh, how else are you supposed to drink tea?”

“Manners love.” You pinch your brows together, “don't forget he's still an adult.”

“Yes ma'am.” He says and takes his spot right between Johnny and Kyle.

“Kid's alright.” Kyle laughs, “I forgot for a moment that Americans do tea differently.”

You smile and avoid eye contact with him, “The fact that we are having chicken and dumplings with corn muffins should say everything about my thoughts on hot tea versus cold tea.”

“Daddy says when you make tea, mommy, it's enough to give a man diabetes.” Jada pipes up again.

“Sugar in a cup.” Jayla whispers, it's so quiet she giggles.

Everyone is laughing at your exasperated sigh and look that you give your daughters. The cultural differences are cute and funny, and as you look around your table, there comes a sense of peace. It feels for a moment that this is a normal family dinner with which the neighbors just happened to stop by. All the fellas got along just well learning touch football and in a hilarious turn of events Simon was the one roped into the game of tea party.

You're sad that this isn't your reality.

“You all have a good night, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything.” John said as he and his boys left the house. He was pleasantly surprised when Jabari was asking if they could play again soon, and the next time, they would play soccer.

“Aye, it's called football ya wee terror.” Soap had ruffled his hair.

“Well you're on American soil when you're at our house, and we call it soccer!” He ducked from under the man's hand. He was all smiles.

You shook your head and looked back at John, “I will, and thanks again for everything. Jada let Mr. Simon go so he can go home, I don't think he wants to babysit Anni, so you can have me time tonight.”

Poor Simon was bogged down with a pink backpack, a baby's bottle, and a pink stroller. Jada crossed her arms and stared up at you, “But Mr. John just said we could call them! You get me time every time Daddy leaves, why can't I?”

“Okay! Enough talking young ma'am, in the house!” You laugh nervously. You can feel the tension and shame creeping up your spine, but mercifully, none of the men comment on the mention of ‘me time’. After you send your son and daughter into the house, the only one clinging to you is Jayla. Her big wide brown eyes are staring up at John and flickering between him, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon. She waves shyly before darting back into the house.

“I don' mind keeping her doll for the night.” it's the first time that Simon has spoken all evening. You are taken back by both his accent and how deep his voice is.

“Really you-” you begin to say, but he's already taking the doll and all of the doll's things across the lawn. Johnny is cackling, and Kyle is just pinching the bridge of his nose. They both bid you goodnight. John gives you one last lingering smile and a nod.

“Get some rest tonight.” His voice is warm, and it's sweet like the tea that he politely drank at dinner without complaint. They all didn't complain about the dinner and rather enjoyed it quite a bit. It was a far cry from how your husband often critiqued (if calling some of the nastiest things said about your cooking can be called as such).

You watch until John is in his house across the lawn. The fantasy is over and you're hoping to enter that dream-like world again.

“Lass can cook. A shame she cooks fora bastard.” Soap says as he plops down on the couch. “Her weans are ‘dorable though.”

“Jabari can sure dish out a hit.” Kyle sat on the couch next to Soap and put his head in his lap, “that last tackle may have given me a bruise.”

John quietly listens to the guys as they talk about you. There's a thoughtful look on his face as he watches Simon carefully put the doll and its things on the armchair.

Simon looks at him just as he is taking off his mask. “Something on your mind?”

“She isn't leaving him anytime soon.” John goes into the kitchen.

“After he almost tried to kill her three days ago, she isn't leaving?” Kyle seems incredulous.

“It's not that simple.” Simon explains, “She's a foreigner with children, in a strange country, and she is a stay at home mum who depends on her husband's income. She can't leave unless she knows for sure her children will be safe.” Part of Simon feels ill with first hand knowledge of that reality.

It's quiet between the four of them, John speaks first, “We'll just have to help her.” He is ready thinking about how this will all play out if done right. If you're gonna be tied to anybody in a foreign country, it may as well be him and his boyfriends.

You don't know it yet, but the four of them are getting you out safely. And you're going to be safe in their arms.

Chapter 3

Tag list: @leahnicole1219 @uraeus56

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 25 - The Family Dinner [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Family time can be chaotic.

Sharing secrets was difficult, but sharing secrets about one’s past was quite possibly one of the most difficult things that a person could do with who they loved. You knew how difficult it was for Spencer to talk about his past with you, but he stood by his word and told you absolutely everything, with nothing to hide. By the time you finished that conversation, it was almost dawn and yet you didn’t feel tired at all.

After that night, something changed but it wasn’t a bad change like Spencer feared.

You felt even closer to him, if such a thing was possible. In the following week, your relationship was better than ever-

Well.

Until now.

“I don’t believe this,” you shook your head, “I just… I refuse to believe this. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t even want to believe you’d put yourself in harm’s way and betray me like this. I get that you have no regard for your happiness, but doing this?” you ran a hand over your face, “This is too much, Spencer. You have no idea what you’re walking into, what kind of danger that’s going to be waiting there to ruin you!”

Spencer just raised his brows, then looked between the two ties he was holding up.

“So that’s a no to the blue one?”

“No to this whole thing!” you let out a groan, falling back to the bed, “No to this dinner with my family nonsense!”

He chuckled at your dramatics as you huffed out.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re worried about the wrong thing?” he asked, “You’re also meeting your father today.”

“But we know my father is a sadistic cruel demon sent to earth to make everyone’s life miserable,” you pointed out, keeping your eyes on the ceiling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my father isn’t the only dangerous person in my family.”

“It’s just a dinner.”

“No, that’s what they want you to think,” you insisted, sitting up in bed, “Before you know it, they invite you to our place by the lovely countryside, and you’ll walk in thinking it’s just like any other place, there are wolves howling outside and-“

“Why are you giving me the plot of Dracula right now?”

“Because that’s what they are!” you exclaimed, “They’re like vampires! Have you ever wondered why my sister was named Mina? Dracula’s Mina!”

“Your mother loves horror books?”

“Spencer you can’t ignore the signs!” you insisted as he started tying his tie, a small grin pulling at his lips, “They’ll- they’ll suck the life out of you! By the time the dinner is over, you will be begging to see the sunlight again, and you will never be able to. Figuratively speaking.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve already met all of them,” he said patiently and you felt your heart melt, “In case you forgot.”

“Yes, and do you remember how that went?” you asked, “Nolan threatened you, my mother treated you like she was going to hire you and questioned you about everything, and Mina… Mina is a warning by existence.”

“Kenzie was nice though.”

“Yeah, she’s the only good person in our family,” you muttered, then turned your head when you felt his glances on you. “What?”

“Nolan is a part of your family?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you scrunched up your face and grabbed your lip liner and lipstick to walk to the mirror, uncapped it and started applying it, “I’m going to have a billionaire stepfather who looks like a puppy around my mother— that’s not the point.” You put the lipstick into your purse and went to sit down on the bed again while he ran his fingers through his curls as if trying to keep them under control, “I just don’t want you to change your mind because my family doesn’t know how to act normal.”

“Change my mind about what?”

“About this,” you motioned between you and that was more than enough to make him turn his head, his brows furrowed. “I love them, but they’re going to be overly prying, overly dramatic, overly….everything and the next thing we know—“

“That’s never going to happen,” he approached you to crouch down so that he could look at you better, then reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, “That’s why you were so nervous about this?”

You pursed your lips, heaving a sigh and shrugged silently.

“Do you remember what you said to me a couple of days ago, that night?” he asked, “How trust works both ways?”

“You already know almost everything about my past.”

“That’s not it,” he shook his head, “This is about our present, and future.”

“Or lack thereof,” you commented dryly, making him chuckle.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“They can be a little intimidating.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you, “And no matter what happens tonight, or on dinners to come with-“

“Social vampires.”

“With your family,” he corrected you, “It won’t change anything. I promise.”

You cupped his cheek, running your fingertips over his slight stubble and he turned his head to place a kiss into your palm, nuzzling there.

“Fine,” you murmured, “Let’s go see my sadistic demon father then. Should be enough of a practice for tonight.”

                                              ***

When you and Spencer got to the prison your father was held in, Luke was already by the hallway, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said, “He’s going to be ready in five.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And don’t worry, after you guys are done here, I’m taking him to bullpen and he will leave at 7 p.m. latest. Rossi promised, even if there’s a dead body he’s gonna attend the dinner tonight.”

You looked up at Spencer, “Wait, there was a possibility of you not attending if someone ends up dead?”

“I mean if there’s a case…”

“Please don’t kill someone so that you guys can avoid this dinner,” Luke pointed out and you made a face at him, “We took you off our suspects list way too soon.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and one of the guards opened the door.

“He’s ready.”

“I’ll be behind the glass if you two need anything.” Luke said and Spencer squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you everything would be alright.

“Come on,” he coaxed and you nodded, then took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room, Spencer following you. Your father looked up, then raised his brows.

“Oh look at you two, together again,” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest not to show how nervous you were. You took your seat across from him beside Spencer, and crossed your arms.

“John.”

“Dr. Reid.”

“So that’s why you haven’t had the time to come and see me lately,” your father motioned between you, “I can hardly say I approve but…”

“Oh that’s good. I’d probably kill myself if I did something you’d approve of.”

“Honey, you’re surrounded by CEOs and businessmen, and you went for an FBI agent?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with-”

“How much do you make monthly?” he asked, turning to Spencer, “I mean, I need to make sure-“

“Oh shut up, will you?” you cut him off, “He’s going to be hearing all that nonsense and more tonight, I don’t need this from you too.”

“Tonight?”

You and Spencer exchanged glances and he shrugged slightly, as if telling you to continue. A small smile pulled at your lips and you turned to your father.

“We’re having a family dinner tonight,” you said, “Naturally it doesn’t include you, so there’s one good thing about this bullshit, I guess.”

“Well, if it doesn’t include me you could hardly call it a family dinner.”

Your smile widened and you clicked your tongue,

“Nah, Nolan is going to be there so we’ll be fine. The whole family is there.”

Your father frowned, “Nolan?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, mom’s boyfriend.”

A silence fell upon the room as he stared at you for a couple of seconds,

“Your mother has a boyfriend now?”

You hissed in a breath,

“You’re right, boyfriend doesn’t exactly cut it,” you said, “He’s going to propose, so I guess we could call him mom’s future husband-“

“You’re lying,” he cut you off and you tilted your head.

“Am I though?”

“She wouldn’t get married,” he shook his head, “No way.”

A laughter escaped from your lips, “Why not?” you asked, “Because she loves you?”

“Yes she does.”

“The last time I checked, she called you a monster and was hoping you would die as soon as possible,” you stated, “Barely a love story.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” he said through his teeth, “Your mother and I were in love, Petal. We still are, regardless of divorce, or this.” He motioned around the room and you blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap your mind around it.

“Jesus, you really are delusional.”

Spencer muttered your name to remind you to be careful, but you shook your head, keeping your eyes on your father.

“I’m pretty sure Nolan could buy this whole prison,” you motioned around, “I should suggest that, as a wedding gift.”

“They won’t get- hold on,” your father said, “Did you say Nolan? Nolan Yates?”

“Mm hm.”

“Nolan fucking Yates is going after my wife?”

“Ex-wife who hates your guts,” you corrected him and he gritted his teeth.

“I knew it,” he spat, “The first time I saw him at that gala, I saw the way he looked at your mother. They’re not getting married.”

“Okay then you lunatic,” you scoffed “I guess you need something to have delusions about while we’re out there moving on—“

It happened in a flash. One second you were talking, the next you were cut off as your father jumped on his feet, Spencer pushing you out of your chair to behind him almost automatically.

Then, something in Spencer’s eyes shifted.

He grabbed him by the arm, twisted it and slammed him down to the table in front of you, making you cover your mouth, your heart beating in your throat as the door opened with a bang and Luke and two guards came in.  Luke was the first to pull Spencer off of your father, telling him to let go while one of the guards grabbed you and pushed you out of the room before he made his way to your father still trying to get out of the handcuffs and lunge at them as if he was a man possessed. They dragged him out of the interrogation room to what you assumed was the hall that led to his cell while you stood still by the wall, trying your hardest to snap out of it but your mind was almost foggy.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say as you made your way to the bathroom, your hands still shaking. Thankfully no one was there, so you rested your palms on the sink, taking a deep breath before you turned on the tap, holding your hands under the ice cold water.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “It’s fine. You’re fine. It happens, you have a fucked up family.”

You rolled your shoulders back, that crazy light in your father’s eyes flashing in your mind before you shook your head, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice reached inside as he knocked on the door, “Can I come in?”

Your heart was still pacing in your chest but you cleared your throat.

“Yeah,” you called out and he stepped inside, his lips pulled into a thin line as he offered you a small smile.

“Hi,” he said gently, still keeping his distance, standing by the now closed door. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, crossing your arms, adrenaline still pulsing through you, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?”

“That you had to see that,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t have slammed him down like that, but when he lunged at you, I just…. I saw red. I understand that it was hard to watch and I apologize—“

“Hold on,” you cut him off, gawking at him “You’re apologizing because you stopped that psycho from lunging at me?”

Spencer frowned as if he was confused at your own confusion, and nodded.

“Yeah. Human mind is very complex, so even if you think you hate him, it could’ve been difficult for you to see him hurt, not to mention it was me who did that. Jung has a theory that states—“

“Spencer,” You interrupted him again, “Lock the door.”

His frown deepened but he did as you asked, but he didn’t get to ask why when you walked to him and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes. His hand cradled your head, a sigh of content escaping him but he pulled back when you grabbed his tie to loosen it.

“Wait, here?” he asked, “Y/N, this is a bathroom.”

“Yeah, I’m aware?”

“Do you have any idea how unsanitary this place probably is?”

“Oh, very unsanitary,” you stated, “On the other hand, though…”

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled your silk blouse over your head, so that he could see you in your bra. He stared at you for a moment and he swallowed thickly, his eyes snapping up to yours when you giggled.

“You make a good point,” he muttered before he pulled you into a kiss and walked you back to the sink.

                                                ***

Unfortunately, the rest of the day wasn’t that fun, especially when it was time to get to your mother’s house for the family dinner. You had insisted on picking Spencer up from work after you were done at your work, so that you would at least try to change his mind on the road again, but when you actually arrived to your mother’s place, he still looked like he wanted to do this.

“Last warning,” you said as Spencer looked up at the house, then twirled the flower bouquet in his hand, “Not too late to change your mind professor.”

“I’ll be fine, come on,” he offered his free hand and you took it, then both of you climbed the stairs to the front door.

“I’m a little nervous, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“You hummed the Darth Vader theme for the whole road,” Spencer reminded you, “I had a feeling you were nervous, yeah.”

“Abandon hope all ye enter here,” you quoted Dante as you both reached the door and Spencer scoffed a laugh.

“Ah we went from the den of vampires into the gates of hell, then?”

“Yeah! As Dante would put it, to a place we come where nothing shines.”

“I doubt he envisioned this when he was talking about the circles of hell.” He rang the doorbell and you let out a small whine, looking up at the dark sky.

“There are worse people than me out there,” you said as the footsteps came closer, “Why am I being subjected to—“

“Spencer!” your mother greeted him as she opened the door and you frowned.

“Since when do you answer the door?” you asked and she shot you a look before smiling at Spencer.

“Hello Ms. Knight.”

“Welcome, both of you!” she gasped at the flowers, “For me?”

“Oh—yes, of course.”

“They’re lovely, thank you!” she said and took them from him, “Come in, come in!”

“No I’m serious, did something happen to Tina? You never answer the door.”

“It’s nice to see you too sweetie, I see we started our dramatics on the way.” she kissed your cheek and you smiled.

“Hi mom.”

“Let me put these in a vase.”

“Spencer!” a gleeful scream rang in the hallway as your mother went to the kitchen and Lily threw herself at Spencer who crouched down as soon as he saw her “Hi!”

“Hi there! Whoa, you’re very strong!”

“Just in time for bedtime,” Kenzie walked into the hallway with a wine glass in her hand, “Hi guys.”

“I told mommy you’re a magician! And grandma, and Nolan too!” Lily counted with her fingers, “And I told them- I told them you can make coins disappear, and that you can do magic with paper, and then—“

“Bug, breathe,” you said, “Also, where’s my hug?”

Lily hastily rushed to you to hug you, then turned to Spencer as if she wasn’t interrupted while he just watched her with a fond smile on her face, listening intently to everything she was saying, and that warm feeling spread through your stomach again.

“And then I told Bobby I know a superhero, then he told me superheroes can’t be magicians but he’s wrong! Do you use magic to catch bad guys? Because if you do, I can help you with your superhero name!”

“Alright, auntie time.” you lifted her up into your arms as Spencer straightened up, “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t,” Spencer shook his head, still smiling, “Please, I… she’s amazing.”

“Lily,” Kenzie said, “Bed time, come on.”

“Can you show me a magic trick please and thank you?” Lily said breathlessly and Spencer let out a laugh before turning to Kenzie.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure thing.”  

Spencer took out a coin from his pocket and held it in her sight, “Alright Lily, this is just a coin, right?”

“Don’t let him trick you,” you whispered to Lily who giggled, then nodded fervently after checking the coin.

“Yes.”

“Okay, keep your eyes on it,” Spencer showed it to her one more time before he put it into his palm, closed his palm and when he opened it, the coin was nowhere to be seen. Lily gasped, her jaw dropping and you couldn’t help but smile at her expression, her eyes shining with awe. You pressed a kiss on her cheek as Kenzie took her from you, and she let out a whine.

“But you all will have fun here!” she murmured, pouting and you heaved a sigh.

“Lily I can assure you, no one will have fun here.”

“Don’t be like that,” Kenzie shot you a look and smiled at Spencer. “She didn’t intimidate you, did she?”

“She tried,” Spencer said as you wrapped your arms around his torso and he kissed the top of your head, “Didn’t exactly work though.”

“For some reason,” you grumbled and Lily waved at you.

“Night night!”

“Good night!”

“I’ll see you later bug!” you said and entwined your fingers with Spencer’s, then pulled him to the dining room where Kenzie and Nolan were talking. Before you could even greet them, the sight of the dinner table caught your eye and you gawked at all the food there, your mother was definitely out of control and this was the proof of it.

There was enough food for a small army.

“Oh God please don’t tell me we’re going to have live music too,” you muttered and Mina raised her brows.

“Yeah, you might want to lower your expectations,” she shot a fake smile at Spencer, “But then again, that seems to be the theme of tonight. Hi Dr. Reid.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring at her and of course the jab didn’t escape Spencer’s attention, but he chose not to respond with the same sarcasm.

“Hi again.”

“Welcome, Dr. Reid,” Nolan smiled, “Y/N.”

“Hi Mr. Yates.”

“Nolan.”

“So this is where you grew up?” Spencer asked you as you led him away from them towards the library, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “Right over there me and Mina got into a fight and she pushed me into a vase.”

“Ouch.”

“Spent the next ten minutes begging me not to tell mom. Over there,” you pointed at the corner, “Used to be this huge Christmas tree every year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and we used to have another room next to this, dad’s study, but after he was arrested and we all figured out how evil he was, mom grabbed a sledgehammer and smashed the—“

“Dinner is ready!” your mother called out and you heaved a sigh.

“Just saying, we could just tell them there’s been a murder.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” he smiled at you fondly and you shook your head, Kenzie entering the living room again.

“I’ve been called stubborn before.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he joked as he kissed you on the forehead and you turned to your family who was slowly taking their seats around the table, then both of you approached the table to sit down as well.

“I’m so glad we decided to have this dinner,” your mother clasped her hands, “It was about time, wouldn’t you say?”

Spencer smiled at her after thanking the maid who was filling his glass, “Thank you for inviting me Ms Knight.”

“Y/N was trying to make him change his mind,” Kenzie sang and your mother tilted your head.

“Spencer, I promise you we’re not as bad as my daughter tries to make you believe.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” you defended yourself, “I’m just saying you might be a little too much.”

“Define too much.”

You gawked at her and motioned at the table, making Spencer chuckle silently beside you.

“I really appreciate the effort you put into this,” he added, making your mother smile.

“Why thank you, Spencer,” she said and turned to Nolan, “Honey, Spencer works for the BAU as you know, you should introduce him to your friend.”

“Your friend?” Kenzie asked.

“The head of FBI,” Nolan said, “That’s a great idea. He might also help you in any position you want in the bureau.”

Spencer blinked a couple of times, as if he was at loss for words, then cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said “I already- I already have the position that I want though.”

“Ah for the future,” Nolan waved a hand and your mother sipped her drink.

“Yeah, now that it came up,” she said, “What are your future plans?”

“Mom,” you said warningly and Mina leaned back, looking between you with a smirk on her face.

“It’s just a question, don’t be so nervous,” she commented and Kenzie arched a brow at her.

“Mina.”

“No it’s okay,” Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, “I um… I think I’d like to focus more on teaching.”

You lowered your glass, “Hm? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I mean I do love BAU, they’re my family but seeing murders every single day, seeing all those victims, it becomes too much sometimes. But I love teaching already, so I think I will do that. In the future, I mean.”

“Oh how lovely. How about something other than your career though? In your future, would you say you’re planning to have chi—“

“New topic,” you cut her off quickly, “I saw dad today, and he knows you two are dating now.”

Your mother frowned but Nolan reached out to squeeze her hand, “It’s okay, he would learn eventually.”

“He actually thinks he is in love with you,” you told your mom and she scoffed.

“Please don’t say that, we’re eating,” she said, “I don’t want to feel nauseous.”

“It’s actually understandable that he’s under that disillusion.” Spencer said, making all of you turn to him, “Especially people in his situation, they feel this need to hold onto some outside world that’s waiting for them to get out of their minds. In a way, he hopes that because if he feels cut off from here, he will probably crash down. It’s very common in people who are imprisoned.”

“Well he can hope all he wants, I never want to see him again.”

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to see him again either, but she’s not that lucky, thanks to FBI. What do you think about that, Spencer?” Mina asked, and Spencer looked at her.

“I think that’s a decision left to her.”

“Is it though?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mina I need you to remember what I was like when we had dinner with Kenzie, and return the favor.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up.”

“Y/N!” your mom gasped and Mina tilted her head.

“Ah well, excuse me if not all of us are in a forgiving mood unlike you.”

“None of that!” your mother said, “Both of you, honestly…”

“Spencer, you strike me as a whiskey guy,” Nolan said, attracting his attention, “I purchased a bottle of limited series in an auction in London the other day, would you like to try it after dinner?”

“Sure,” he nodded fervently and you held up your hand.

“I want to try that too. And what about that rum you were talking about the other day? Is it here too?”

“Sure thing.” Nolan snapped his fingers, “In fact, I know a great distillery, why don’t we visit there after dinner?”

You lifted your head, “That could be fun. Where?”

“Costa Rica.”

Spencer looked between you, “You—um, you want to go to Costa Rica after dinner?”

“We could take the jet. We’d be back before the dawn, obviously.”

“People,” you cleared your throat, “Has no one read the normalcy manual I e-mailed you the other day?”

“Yes but the manual said we could talk about drinks.” Nolan said and Spencer turned to you, frowning.

“Normalcy manual?”

“I just thought it’d be useful for tonight.”

“Oh it was very useful,” Mina commented, “Especially the footnote about murders, even if it was unnecessary. No one will joke about murder Y/N, we don’t want your boyfriend to arrest you again after—“ she was cut off as Kenzie kicked her leg under the table, and Spencer pursed his lips, as if he still felt guilty about that.

“I wasn’t in the city,” he said calmly, looking her dead in the eye, “I came back as soon as I heard, I was trying to get her out when you got there.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, “Mina , stop it will you?”

She didn’t even look like she heard you, “Get her out? Ah so that’s why I walked into that interrogation room when she was being hounded by your team?”

“Okay!” Kenzie said loudly, throwing the napkin on the table, “I’m so sorry, I just remembered something about Lily’s school that we missed. Babe, can you come with me to the kitchen for a moment please?”

Mina huffed out and put her glass down, then pushed her chair back and followed Kenzie to the kitchen.

“Honestly….” you downed your drink and motioned for another one but then Spencer squeezed your hand under the table, as if trying to assure you.

“I bet you miss the serial killers right now huh?” you mumbled and he tilted your head, humoring you.

“Drinks are better here,” he admitted and you tried to smile before you grabbed your cigarette pack from your purse.

“I’m gonna go to the backyard for a moment to smoke,” you said and your mother shot you a look.

“It’s dinner time, Y/N.”

“It’ll take like five minutes, tops,” you said and pushed your chair back, “I need some fresh air anyway. Spencer?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he said and followed you down the hall until you reached the door to the backyard, opened it and stepped outside.

It was a silent night, as silent as it could be in the middle of the city. You looked up at the stars as you lit your cigarette, then heaved a sigh and leaned back to Spencer’s chest when he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I apologize on her behalf,” you said and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to,” he muttered, “She has a point. I should’ve… I should’ve been there, in that interrogation room.”  

You looked up at him, then reached up to run your fingernails over his slight scruff while he lowered his head to press his nose into the crook of your neck, nuzzling there.

“Spencer, you need to stop blaming yourself,” you said slowly, “I mean it. I don’t blame you for that at all— and….you know Mina. She just turns into someone else when it comes to protecting the family. She doesn’t mean it, not really.”

He nodded silently and you combed back his hair with your fingers, making him heave a sigh.

“This is nice,” he muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“So are you ready to admit that I was right?”

“Hm?”

“I said you would regret it, do you regret it yet?”

“The dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head “No.”

“Why not?”

His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to your neck, “Because you’re here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours and you stubbed your cigarette before you turned to him. He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but stare at him under the dim lights of the backyard before you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his.

“God, I love you so much,” you said, making him smile, “Thank you for being here and… I don’t know, going through this absolute torture. I know it’s a lot.”

“Hey,” he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” his voice was silent, almost hesitant, “To make you happy. You know that, right?”

You could feel the burning in your eyes and you sniffled, your heart skipping a beat before you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. The rest of the world felt like it disappeared as you swayed from side to side, inhaling his scent and you pulled back.

“I know now,” you wiped at your nose, clearing your throat and he pushed your hair behind your ear.

“Good,” he grinned, “Glad we cleared that out.”

Someone knocked on the door and you turned your head to see Mina as she opened the glass door.

“So about earlier,” she leaned sideways to the doorframe, “Apologies and remorse, etc.”

“That means she’s sorry for what happened earlier,” you said helpfully and Spencer scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I get it. Trust me, I felt exactly the same when I saw the tape, but I was trying to get her out with minimum damage.”

Mina nibbled on her lip, eyeing him up and down.

“I guess,” she said, “But just so you both know, mom and Nolan are actually planning a weekend trip to Costa Rica. It’s like what happened with Kenzie all over again, only there’s two of them now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered and Mina nodded at Spencer.

“Yeah so you might need to tell them you have murders to solve during the weekend Sherlock, because they’re not going to listen to us.” she said and Spencer looked down at you.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you said and he pressed a kiss into your hair before making his way inside. Mina lingered there for a moment, inspecting her fingernails in a complete nonchalant manner.

“I guess I could trust you to know what you’re doing,” she said, “Just make sure he doesn’t screw you over, okay?”

You raised your brows, then clicked your tongue.

“Kenzie said no sex unless you apologize huh?”

“She meant it too!” Mina whined as you walked past her, letting out a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” you shook your head with a smile, making your way to the dining room. “All of you.”

Chapter 26 

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch1: GI Joe And Army Barbie Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Intro: Following the Child Sex Trafficking job, The Losers all go their own way for a break before they are due back in Fairfax County. Stella is enjoying some quiet time with her mother.

 And Jensen.

 But, it isn’t ever quiet where he is involved.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  So here it is! We’ve been waiting to bring you this one for a LOOOOONG time, and we hope we don’t disappoint. We can’t wait to dive into this fic! We pick up in 2007, roughly 2 years or so before the events of the Losers Film (in our head anyway) and we can’t wait to cram it full of adventure. Please let us know what you think with a reblog and a comment.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Prologue

May 2007

Stella and her mom sat in the kitchen of her childhood home in Manchester, New Hampshire. It was late morning one Friday morning, the day after she had returned home following debriefs at the CIA base in DC. It had been an emotional reunion, not having seen her mother for almost 8 months in person. They’d stayed up late with a bottle of wine before retiring to bed and after a lazy morning she had eaten a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs, god knows how many rounds of toast and some decent coffee.

“Have you had enough to eat honey?” Her mom asked.

“Yup, honestly I’m stuffed, Ma. It feels good to be eating home cooked food for a change.” She smiled.

“Yeah, well, God only knows what you’ve been eating out there.” Julie mumbled as Stella smiled at her mom’s typical mother concern.

“So when are you due back in the office?” Julie pressed and Stella’s smile grew even wider at her mom’s name for the George Bush Centre for Intelligence in Fairfax County, the CIA HQ where The Losers would be based predominantly when they weren’t running missions.

“I have another week of leave. They gave me longer seeing as I was down there for so long. Clay and the rest only got a few days, much to Jake’s disgust, he heads back over there Monday.” Stella shook her head snorting “You know if he had his way he would be on permanent leave, drinking and watching football on TV.”

“He hasn’t changed then?” Julie grinned.

“Nope.”

“I bumped into his mom the other day at the supermarket.” Stella’s mom continued.

“Yeah? How is Janet?”

“She’s good.” Julie nodded “John has been building a new shed for the garden…or maybe it was a summer house. Either way, they were planning on having a BBQ soon when Gracie finishes school”

“Sounds good, have you seen them much at all recently?” Stella asked.

“We’ve got together a few times yes. Which reminds me….” Julie narrowed her eyes “She told me Jake has been back in the US now for 12 months. You tell him from me he’s gonna get a slap for not coming over to see me when he came back home to visit.”

Stella laughed “I’ll make sure he knows how disgusted you are in him, don’t worry.”

They sat chatting for a little while longer before Julie stood up to clear the plates, waving away Stella’s offer of help, as she always did when she was home. Stella headed into the lounge, picked up her laptop and opened up her browser, dialling into her military account. About 15 minutes later Julie walked in.

“What are you doing?”

“I got some paper work and stuff to sort, you know for the accommodation in the Condo that Clay sent me through.” Julie shook her head, “You know, Estella, I really wish you’d get a normal job-“

Stella sighed “Ma, don’t start…”

“You’re as stubborn as your father and look where that got him!”

“Wow.” Stella looked up, arching her eyebrow. “Nice. Good guilt trip.”

“You’re my little girl.” Julie’s voice grew quiet. “ I worry. And I miss you. “I know, but…this is my job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” Stella shrugged “But now, I’m home and…I’m not on tour all the time. I’ll be back for a week once very month and, well, you still have Rey, she literally lives 10 minutes away!”

Julie rolled her eyes “For all the good that does. She only visits when she wants food or to complain about something.”

Stella seized the opportunity to divert the conversation and she snorted “Complain about what? Which fucking sports car Richard wants to buy her next. Or because he doesn’t like whatever pretentious middle name she has planned for their first born?” Before Julie could reply they both heard the back door open to the kitchen and a familiar voice called “Yo, Stevensons…” Julie looked at Stella who rolled her eyes. “Speak of the devil…”

Jensen appeared in the doorway to the lounge, grinning “Oh, we’re you talking about me gorgeous?”

“No I was, and how you’ve been home on US soil for almost a year and not paid me one visit Jacob.” Julie glared at him, folding her arms.

“Oooh the full name. Am I in trouble?” Jensen grinned.

“Yes, you damned well are JJ.” Julie said, opening her arms “Now come here…”

Grinning Jensen stepped forward to give Stella’s mum a hug, pulling back with a yelp as she slapped him round the head.

“Shit, Jules!! What the hell was that for?”

“I told you! Your mother was telling me just the other day you’ve been back to Manchester now a few times and didn’t even think of paying me a visit?”

“Sorry Jules, been busy”

Julie narrowed her eyes “Busy doing what?”

“Wow. I really am in trouble huh.” Jensen shrugged. Stella snorted and Jensen looked over at where she was concentrating on the screen of her laptop. “What you doing Stel?” Stella let out a sigh at the same time her mother did, before Julie headed back into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Jensen asked, watching Julie leave before he turned to Stella “Am I supposed to sigh now?” “I was just filling in the paper work for the condo.” She replied as Jake sat next to her “Mom still isn’t a big fan of me being in the military. Swear she still thinks I’m 10 or something.”

“Well I know for a fact you aren’t” Jensen flashed her his trademark goofy smile and Stella slapped his arm.

“Shut up JJ” “Ouch…!” Jake rubbed his arm “Stel, be gentle.” She rolled her eyes and he reached for her laptop “Ok, let me see…” he glanced at the computer “You know this thing is totally outdated?”

“It does a job, I don’t care.” “Speaking of jobs…” Jensen looked towards the kitchen door, “How about you and me…”

“Jesus Jake!” Stella looked at him as he grinned “Here, whilst my mom is home? You have issues.”

“Didn’t bother you 10 years ago…”

“Yeah, well I didn’t know any better, you’re living proof of that. And besides, I’ve grown up since then. You should try it.” “Hmmm, you know one of the perks of being Black Ops means we all get our own private digs in the Condo” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I swear to god Jake, you’re a fucking nightmare.” Stella rubbed her temples “Why are you here?”

“Came to invite you to the Petunia’s game tomorrow. It’s been a while since we went out on a date babe.”

“A while?” Stella shook her head laughing. “Your concept of time measurement really amazes me.” Jake chuckled “So whaddya say?” he asked, giving her a goofy grin.

“Yeah why not?” Stella asked “Which girl wouldn’t dream of going to watch an under 8’s girl soccer game? Can’t believe my luck.” “Don’t be a whiny bitch!” Jake rolled his eyes “We’re meeting Pooch and his girl later in the evening for drinks.”

“Great, so now it’s turned into a double date.” She rolled her eyes.

“Why you being so grumpy Stel?” Jake frowned.

Stella sighed “Sorry Jakey…just..oh I dunno, I guess mom just pissed me off a bit that’s all. Bringing up my dad, suggesting I’m gonna go the same way he did.”

Jake pondered this for a moment before he took a deep breath. “You know she’s just worried about you that’s all.”

Stella smiled “I know…I know. Doesn’t help I can’t really tell her what I’m doing, other than running CIA tasked missions.”

“Come’ ere…” Jake threw an arm round her and she leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder. “How about I help you fill that paper work out and then we can head and grab some lunch or a drink, whatever.”

“Now that’s actually quite a good idea.”

Jensen smiled and gently kissed her head. “It happens occasionally.”

Stella looked up at him “Guess it’s my lucky day then.”

“Well mine was like 10 years ago so guess I can say about time Stel.”

“Smooth…” she rolled her eyes and he shrugged, dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss, but before it could go any deeper another loud voice rang out from the kitchen and Stella pulled away giving a groan.

“Just what I fucking need.”

Jensen grimaced at the sound of Stella’s eldest sister as her airey tone grew louder, before the door to the lounge opened

“Aww GI Joe and Army Barbie are back in town.”  

“Fuck off Aubrey.” Stella looked up at where her sister was stood leaning in the doorframe.

“Hello to you too.” Aubrey rolled her eyes.

“S’up Rey? How’s Dick?” Jensen grinned at her. Stella nudged him, trying hard not to smirk

“You know full well his name is Rick, Jacob.” Aubrey replied with a bored tone. “You were at the wedding after all.

“Yeah…” Jensen mused “Still looks like a Dick to me.”

At that Stella snorted and he flashed her a quick wink. She loved how he always had her back against her sister and her snobby bastard husband. Aubrey merely rolled her eyes, she was well used to Jake and his quips by now.

“Yeah laugh all you want losers” and with that she left and made her way to the kitchen

“Well, she’s not wrong we are Losers.” Jake shrugged “Yeah but she doesn’t know, let’s keep it that way.” Stella sighed, before she shook her head “I don’t know how your sister is still friends with her, I mean out of choice? Really?

“Well, us Jensens are made to please.”

At that point Julie re-entered the living room “Jake are you staying for lunch or are you expected anywhere else to please today? I’m making lasagne.”

“Mom we literally ate breakfast an hour ago.” Stella looked up at her and Julie smiled.

“I know, but I’m making the pasta from fresh and have a few other things to do so it won’t be ready for a while.  You two do your…thing and let me know what you decide. Rick and Rey are staying, he’s coming later so…” “Can’t wait.” Stella deadpanned.

“Please don’t start Estella…” Julie shot her a look.

“Anyway, change of subject…how is her shit soap selling?” Jake leaned back on the sofa and Stella snorted.

“Ask her, I dare you.  I’d pay to see her face.”

“I’d do it for free if it makes you smile.”

“You two, behave if you’re staying.” Julie said sternly, pointing at them both.

“You gonna be pissed if we don’t stay?” Stella looked at her mom.

“I’ll be more pissed if you do and don’t behave.” The reply came back.

“Cross my heart Jules…” Jensen made the sign over his chest “Best behaviour. Anything for your lasagne.”

“Glad to hear it Jake.” Julie raised her eyebrow and then turned from the room.

“Looks like we’re staying then.” Stella looked at Jensen who merely grinned back.

“Sorry Stel, but you know I love verbal sparring with Rick the Prick.”

She snorted “You’re a bad man JJ” “I’m your bad man.” He winked.

Stella looked at him, cocking her head to one side trying to figure out what exactly he meant. As far as she was concerned he wasn’t after anything serious. Especially seeing he was the one that broke it off 8 years ago. Sure they’d fallen into the whole friends with benefits thing but it was no strings and all that…

She took a deep breath, cleared her throat and nodded to her laptop “So, er…forms?”

****

Two hours later they were still filling in the damned paperwork, Stella having a lot to complete…that and the fact they’d been distracted a bit by laughing and joking around, Jake showing her on Google Maps the location of a few good restaurants and bars not too far from the Condo to head to. They both looked up as Julie walked back into the lounge to tell them lunch would be ready in 20. They finished up what they were doing before walking into the Kitchen where Stella was greeted by her brother-in-law with his usual stiff hug, whereas Jake took great delight in pumping his hand up and down furiously, grinning at him.

Stella shook her head, smiling to herself as they all sat down outside in the garden, making the most of the nice weather, and began to eat. Richard was telling some boring tale from his office and Jensen was hanging off his every word, pretending to give a shit when Stella knew nothing could be further from the truth. He was merely waiting for his opportunity, which was handed to him a few minutes later by Rey who couldn’t resist getting the first shot in.

“Jake, how’s the army geek life treating you?”

“Great Rey, how’s the soap?”

Stella instantly choked on her water, and Jensen looked at her, patting her on the back as she recovered.

“Oh, it’s ok.” Rey waved a hand “I haven’t made much recently, been so busy with you know…other stuff.” “Yeah, that other stuff just keeps gettin’ in the way of…soap.” Jake shook his head.

“Are you joking with me now?” Rey narrowed her eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jensen shook his head. “In fact, I’m in awe of you. I mean it literally amazes me how you can make that stuff and sell it when you hate getting your hands dirty so much.” Jake swallowed a mouth of his food and grinned at her.

Rey glared at Jake “I wear gloves, ass-wipe.”

“You really don’t get irony do you?” Stella laughed, taking a drink from her glass of water.

At that point her mother caught her eye and gave her a stern glare, her earlier warning to the two of them to behave flashed across Stella’s mind but she was struggling to care. Her and Jake ‘Tag-teaming’ Rey and Rick was a well-practised art that the two of them had fine-tuned over the years, and it was the only time Stella ever felt she could get one up on her sister.

Rey looked at her and flicked her hair behind her shoulder “You may laugh but its selling really well. I’m actually thinking of expanding into a baby range.”

“Be handy for when we get pregnant.” Rick smiled at her.

Stella pulled a face as Jake grinned “You guys have that planned too? A designer little Rick or Rey on its way?”

Aubrey smiled and looked adoringly at Rick in a way that made Stella want to barf “Yeah, we’ve been trying.”

“Code for we’ve been fucking non-stop like Rabbits.” Stella mumbled.

“Estella!” Julie said sharply as Rey glared at her.

“Just because you can’t get your own relationship sorted…” she shot

“I’m not in a relationship, as well you know.”

“You sure?” Rey stared back at her, her eyes flicking to Jensen for a second.  Stella felt herself grow red.

“Fuck off.”

“Ok that’s enough!” Julie said loudly “Can the pair of you just not stop this sniping for even one damned hour?”

Stella took a deep breath “Sorry Ma.”

Jake who had remained quiet, up until that point chipped up again, deflecting the conversation.

“Huh…” he pondered something before he pointed his fork at Rey “You know, if you’re trying to get pregnant it’s highly recommended to be in good spirits. You keep getting so angry and snippy at people, you’re gonna scare Rick’s little soldiers away. It’s a question of PH.”

Rey and Rick exchanged a glance whilst Julie looked down at her plate, coughing slightly, a smile flickering on her mouth, her admonishing clearly forgotten. Stella’s eyes moved from her mother to Jake and she mouthed ‘are you for real?’

Jensen simply grinned, shrugging, as Stella shook her head, trying not to laugh. She adored Jake when he was in full on playful mode like this. He was always full of random, stupid trivia that you could never tell whether was actual fact or simply made up for the sake of sheer, stupid comedy value and he could use it perfectly to diffuse a situation and divert attention just as he had done right now. The best bit was, that Rey and Rick were utterly oblivious to his tactic and were now looking at him, like his words were gospel.

“Where the hell did you hear that?” Rey asked.

“I read it in Nature…” Jake shrugged, taking another mouthful of his food.

“I’m impressed Jake.” Rick looked at him.

“Well, sometimes I’m more than just a pretty face Dick.” Jensen shrugged.

Rick blinked “Did he just-“

“Jules, I gotta say…” Jensen cut him off before he could finish, flashing Julie his best smile “This lasagne as always is delicious.”

*****

“Damned Stel…” Jakey mumbled to himself as she heads to car. Taking in her tight jeans that show off her ass and legs, her khaki green silk chami top which hung loosely off her frame, exposing her collar bone and her light grey jacket, set off with a pair of stylish Oakley Holbrooks with matte black frames and red iridium lenses. Her hair was pulled into a side braid which hung down her right shoulder and when she smiled at him he shifted slightly in his seat.

“You look nice.” He recovered himself enough to smile as she climbed into the car.

“Thanks JJ.” She turned to him, taking in his dark jeans and grey and blue button down. “No Petunias T-shirt?”

“Well I figured seeing as we’re going out afterwards I should make a bit of an effort.” He grinned, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Stella arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“See your dad got a new car…” she mused, taking in the interior of the silver chevvy blazer before she grinned “Pity he got rid of the ford…”

Jensen smirked “Yeah, we had…good times on that back seat.”

Stella smiled and looked out of the window, before she turned back to Jake as he drove off up the road. “So who are they playing today?” she asked

“A team called the Oaks.” He said “I was checking their scores the other day, they lost their last 5 games so...” Stella smiled “You get far too invested in this you know?”

Jensen shrugged. “What can I say, I like soccer.”

Their conversation continued on the 10 minute or so drive to the Petunia’s home pitch, and eventually strayed to Jensen’s sister Jane before it moved onto their lunch yesterday and how Julie had given Stella a ticking off once Jake had left.

“You know Rey has been googling that PH bull shit don’t you?” Stella looked at Jensen as he drove towards the soccer pitches “And she’s realised it’s just that. Bull shit.” Jensen shrugged “I don’t care, she was being a bitch to you.”

“Well thankfully she left about an hour after you did yesterday so I didn’t have to put up with her for much longer.” Stella shrugged “Still, was long enough for her to keep talking about fucking soap.”

Jensen grinned “I think I touched a nerve?”

“No shit.” Stella grumbled “You know what she said? After all that about how well it was selling and them expanding the range, she told ma she only made $500 last month!”

Jensen laughed as he swung the car into a spot by the side of the road. “Yeah, that’s…not great.”

“I did point out that maybe the reason people don’t buy whatever shit she sells because they freak out at the ridiculously ostentatious name of the company.

“The Bath To Righteousness” Jensen grinned as they both climbed out. “Yeah it is pretty pretentious. Stuff like that needs an angle you know? These companies selling homemade, organic shit are ten a penny. It needs to be a catchy name, something punchy.”

“What would you call it?” Stella looked at him, slipping her arm through his as they headed over to the pitch The Petunias were playing on.

“I’ve got Soap, Bitches.” He nodded firmly. Stella burst into laughter. “Or Lick My Soap.” Jensen continued reeling off stupid names as they approached the side lines. “Soap In Your Hole…Hit Me with Your Best Soap…Slippery when Wet… Don’t Buy Soap, Won’t Be Soap”

Stella was laughing that hard she was struggling to breathe. Jensen grinned as her nose crinkled up and she let go of his arm, doubling over, clutching her stomach. “Don’t buy soap, won’t be soap?” she managed to stutter, wiping her eyes “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It’s from an ancient Tibetan philosophy- don’t start none, won’t be none.”

“You’re so full of crap.” She snorted, shaking her head.

“Maybe I should eat one of those soap bars then?”

Stella began to laugh again and at that point Jake’s sister Jane appeared from wherever she had been and looked at the pair of them over her shades. “What the hell’s got into you?” she looked at Stella, a smile playing on her face.

“Hey Jane, What’s soap, I mean up.” Jensen quipped and Stella let out another loud howl of laughter. Jake looked at her, laughing a little before Jane shook her head

“I just can’t with you two…” Jane grinned and gave Stella a hug. “Good to see you Stel.”

“You too Jane. You look well.” She said, stepping back to take the blonde woman in fully. “Where’s Gracie?” “Oh they’re over there with their coach.” Jane said, waving her hand in the direction of the pitch “She’s been asking about you all day. Ever since Jake said you were coming she’s been so excited.”

“I can’t wait to see her either, it’s been like a year!”

“Oh she’s grown up a lot. You’ll see.” Jane smiled.

“Hear that JJ- grown up.” Stella looked at him. “Seems even your niece can manage it.”

“Says the girl that almost pissed herself laughing at the phrase slippery when wet.” Jensen eyed her over his shades and she shrugged.

“I daren’t even ask…” Jane looked at them both and Jensen simply waved her comment away.

“Oh we were just trying to think of ways to help Rey boost her soap sales.” He shrugged.

“Do I really wanna know?” Jane asked, “Mind you, she’ll probably chew my ear off about it all later.”

It wasn’t long before the teams head out to the pitch and the three of them took their seats on the small stand as they kicked off.

“I’d kill for a beer.” Stella mumbled about 5 minutes later.

“Well, I nearly bought some but thought better not. I got caught last time and fined- broke a by law apparently.” Jensen said, his eyes not leaving the game “Jane went bezerk. She’s kinda scary when she gets mad. Like you.”

Stella smiled and turned back to the game for a little while, until the Petunias made a break for goal, only to have the girl who was running through felled down by one of the Oak’s defenders.

“Oh look at that!” Jensen yelled, jumping up “Foul ref…are you blind?”

“Jake sit down.” Jane hissed, looking up at him from where she sat to Stella’s right.

“I’d say this is embarrassing but I’m used to it.” Stella shook her head.

“I swear to god behave or I’ll ban you for life.” Jane threatened him again as he continued to yell down to the pitch.

“Can you sit down please?” A voice came from behind them and Stella looked at the woman who was speaking “You’re blocking my view”

“For fucks sake…” Stella grumbled, reaching up with her left hand and yanking on his shirt “Jakey, sit!”

With a grumble he did as he was told and leaned across Stella to look at Jane “You soccer mums are a nightmare.” Jane glared at him, Stella remained focussing on the game, trying not to laugh. When Jensen moved to sit back she looked at Jane and mouthed “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jane shook her head “He’s far worse when you’re not around.”

“God help you.”

“Yeah there was this one time he was that bad Gracie stopped talking to him for an entire weekend. Poor Kid hadn’t been so embarrassed in her life.” Jane mumbled. Jensen turned to look to his right at Stella and his sister, frowning.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“You.” Stella looked at him “Now shut up and behave.”

“No need to be so aggressive babe.” He arched an eyebrow but obeyed anyway.

“Stella, can I hire you for like ALL the games?” Jane asked, nodding to the fact Jensen was, for once, doing as he was told.

Stella snorted, shaking her head as she turned back to the match.

As it was only a kid’s game, they only played 20 minutes either half. The first one closed at 0-0 and after a quick 5 minutes break they swapped ends and kicked off the second half. About 5 minutes in the Petunias broke and this time thanks to a great pass through from Gracie they scored. Naturally Jake cheering loudest. The rest of the half was uneventful and the game ended at 1-0. As everyone began to move, the three of them headed down to the side lines, Gracie trotting towards them.

“Stella!” she grinned, throwing herself at the woman. Stella grabbed her in a hug, swinging her round slightly.

“OMG look at you! You got taller!” she smiled, ruffling her hair.

Gracie grinned “I know. But it has been a while since I saw you.” She admonished Stella a little.

“Really?” Stella grinned “Doesn’t seem that long.”

“Did you see my goal assist?” Gracie asked and Stella nodded.

“Of course I saw it honey, you were great!”

“Alright, alight, favourite uncle right here.” Jensen said, gesturing to himself.

“You’re my only uncle, duh.” Gracie rolled her eyes.

“Well guess that makes me your favourite by default then.” Jensen shrugged.

Stella pat his shoulder gently. “You were brilliant JJ.”

At that Gracie gave a snigger.

They chatted for a little while longer before Jake said they needed to leave to meet Pooch and ‘future Mrs. Pooch’. Gracie wasn’t impressed at Stella going so soon and there was a brewing tantrum until Stella assured her it wouldn’t be too long before she saw her again. In all honesty, Jensen could have spent the rest of the evening watching his niece and Stella interact. He had to concede Stel had a way with children which contrasted with the focused military Captain persona who was now part of an elite black-ops team . Mind you, Gracie had known Stella her entire life. Granted, Gracie had spent more time with Aubrey, being as she was one of her mother's best friends, than with Stel and yet it wasn't hard to tell Stel was one of Gracie's favourite people in the world. 

So after a vague promise to take Gracie out for an ice cream during the week she still had left of her leave, Stella managed to avert the tantrum and they said goodbye and headed back to the car. 

When they got to Tandy's, almost half an hour later, Pooch and his fiancé were already at the bar waiting for them.  Pooch stood up as he spotted them approaching and he pulled Stella into a hug before greeting and patting Jensen's back and introducing Stella to his wife-to-be, Jolene. They grabbed a drink and sat down, the 4 of them chatting for a little while. Pooch and Jolene told Stella all about their wedding plans, which sounded like a beautiful ceremony planned for the following year in Mexico. 

Stella was asking the reason for their wedding ceremony being in Mexico when they finished their first round. Jensen, noticing their glasses were empty, stood up to go get another round, he had already had his share of Pooch's wedding plans for the past year, and Jolene excused herself to go to the bathroom soon after, leaving Stella and Pooch alone. 

"So you enjoying the chance to be at home for a few weeks Arty?" Pooch asked her.

"It’s great being with my mom but she’s already driving me crazy, telling me I need to leave the army and get a good, normal job. She’d have a fit if she knew I was part of this Elite Black ops shit."

Pooch chuckled "Well, it’s not all undercover life or death situations. You know, Jensen ended up doing 2 months at HQ working on some online terrorist cell last year. Cougar has run a few sniping jobs too. I ran a couple of training ops with some troops in Canada."

"Yeah. Clay mentioned I might get a few normal jobs…" Stella nodded, as she fiddled with the coaster on the table.

"So it’s good to be reasonably close to home, you know? Well, I say reasonably close…still like a 7 and a half hour drive. Hurrah for Military Discount on airfare…or you can go via New York and take a night there.” Pooch shrugged “Me and Jensen done that a few times. Although keeping tabs on him in Times Square can be a pain in the ass…"

"Yeah I can imagine." she laughed.

"So, what’s your dad think about your career choice?" Pooch asked then.

"No idea, he died when I was 10." Stella shrugged.

"Shit, sorry." Pooch apologised, eyes wide open at the realisation of his gaffe.

Stella gave him a comforting smile. "It's ok. You didn't know."

"No siblings?" Pooch inquired and Stella could feel his wariness as he asked another personal question.

"One." she smiled again. "Sister, she’s…” Stella hesitated, trying to thing of the most diplomatic way to phrase what she wanted to say. “Well, she’s very different to me. Her husband is a Finance Director for Lockheed Martin and earns a ridiculous amount of money so she doesn’t work. Well, unless you count running an online Etsy shop selling home-made soaps. She’s friends with JJ’s sister although fuck knows how Jane puts up with her."

"I could ask you the same thing about Jensen." Pooch joked, nodding at Jensen at the bar and Stella smiled again. 

By then Pooch had noticed Arty smiled a lot. She had a warm smile that made him feel comfortable around her. That and the fact she wasn't shy to talk about her life with him. He liked her and thus he was curious about what the real nature of her relationship with Jensen was.

"So you know his family as well then?" he asked.

"Yeah I’ve known them all since I was 11." she offered.

"That’s nice." Pooch nodded.

"What is?"

"You guys being so close since you were kids." he said, smiling.

Stella smiled at him again but it was now a mischievous smile "He told you how we met?"

Pooch shook his head "No."

"It was first week of middle school. I was walking to class and my bag split. He came over to help me pick up my stuff, smacked his head straight into mine as he stood up."  she stopped to let Pooch laugh it up.

"He banged his head?” Pooch snorted “Yeah that…that sounds like Captain Chaos alright…”

Stella shook her head as she gave Pooch a nudge, stretching her arm over the table. "Don’t laugh, he was cute. A dork but cute. And he was a friend. My dad had only been dead 6 months or so and we had moved back home from Kentucky to be nearer our grandparents so I didn’t really know anyone. But, he came straight over when everyone else was laughing at me and he deliberately placed himself so no one would see me crying." At that Pooch saw Stella glancing over at Jensen, smiling softly. "Been hanging out ever since."

"So when did you two…you know…cross the line so to speak."

"He asked me out on my 17th birthday. I’d liked him for years but didn’t think he thought of me in that way. We dated through senior year and then we both went off to Norwich University for the ROTC." She explained.

"Oh, so you didn’t direct enter either then?"

"No. I talked to Clay about it and he suggested I do the ROTC so I could get a college education as well. I suggested it to Jakey and we both went for it."

"So, excuse my prying but why you two beak up? Seems like you were together for pretty much the most important decisions of your lives?"

Stella hesitated before answering. Although she didn't mind talking to Pooch it was the first time she explained her and Jensen's story to anyone. She hadn’t needed to up to that point, seeing as everyone she had met till then didn't know Jake too, bar their respective families and friends and they already knew what the deal between them was. Sort of.

For the first time Pooch felt like she wasn't that willing to answer. "Well, after the ROTC thing we both got our first overseas postings and, well, he suggested that maybe it was better if we called it quits before the distance tore us apart and we resented one another. I agreed. We stayed friends though."

"Friends with benefits, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that." she snorted.

Pooch looked at her. He sensed it was better not to pry more on the subject so he decided to change topics.

"So, you know Clay of old then?" he asked, remembering Clay had warned them she was like a daughter to him.

"Yeah he was in the Army with my dad. My dad was a major in the Screaming Eagles, you heard of them?"

Pooch nodded "The 101st airborne division, right?"

Stella nodded too. "Clay was first lieutenant in his command. He was killed when they launched the operation to cut off Highway 8. One of only 16 to die. Clay took it hard, he was literally right by dad when he died. A foot to the right and he’d have taken the bullet not dad, and he felt guilty for ages for not spotting the sniper but…either way one of them ended up dead. I mean, dad was only 45 when he died and Clay would have been…what, 28 or so at the time, maybe? Either way it’ no age, total waste of a life."

"You know, Clay never really talks about his past much but he did tell us once that seeing his friend die at the hand of an insurgent was what spurred him into the Special Ops. He wanted to get involved in tracking down terrorists, making places safer. Never knew who he was talking about though." Pooch offered.

"Well now you do." she shrugged "I expect it's painful for him to talk about. We’ve all been there, lost people …it’s hard."

"So that's why you joined as well? Your dad?" Pooch asked.

"Yeah. Much to Mom’s disgust. She called Clay, thought he would talk me out of it. I think his words to my mum were, and I quote “ I don’t stand a chance Jules, you know she looks up to Ian’s memory like he’s Captain America….”." 

Pooch laughed out loud and Stella grinned. "Yeah she’s still not best pleased with him. And when I got stationed over in Iraq, well, I thought she was gonna hunt him down and kill him with her bare hands."

"You clearly made the right career choice though, I mean you made Captain pretty fast." Pooch stated with real admiration. “Just like Jensen did.”

"A lot of that was down to doing the ROTC and circumstance. Right place, right time…you know what it’s like in the field. They need commissioned, senior officers in Delta Force, I dare say female ones specifically to ‘fil the quota’ so to speak. I did my job well and…" she shrugged.

"From what I hear you’re selling yourself short. Clay speaks very highly of you. He was raving about this person on the inside for the entire time we were running that last op."

Stella smiled, after the conversation with her mother the day before and having to put up with her sister and brother in law's perfect life all over the weekend, Clay's words were like a balm to her. 

"Good to know I’m doing something right."

Pooch was pondering Stella's words when Jensen returned from the bar with a couple of beer bottles and two deep orange coloured cocktails.

"Sorry guys, they had a new bartender who wasn't very sure about the best way to prepare a Sailor's Grave." He shrugged “So, this is for Pooch, this is for Mrs. Pooch and this one is for my girl…" he said, placing the drinks ceremoniously on the table, flashing a wink at Stella when he said the last part.

Pooch raised an eyebrow at Stella. The boundaries in Jensen and Stella's relationship, whatever that was, were clearly a little blurred.

Stella rolled her eyes before speaking "I’m not your girl Jake, not since you dumped me when you went over to Burkina Faso." She flinched a little as that came out slightly harsher than she meant and Jensen noticed.

 "Ouch doll. Bitter much?" he frowned.

Stella took a deep breath but didn’t say anything. Worst thing she could do was encourage him, whether it was in favour or against, his attempts of flirting. Thankfully, at that moment Jolene returned to the booth.

"Sorry I took so long, I got a call from the office." She apologised as she sat at her place next to Pooch.

Stella seized the chance to divert the conversation and get Jake out of her mind and sight for a minute and she smiled at Jolene and asked “So what do you do for a living?”

"Oh I’m a paralegal for a local firm in Concord." Jolene explained before taking a sip from her cocktail.

Soon both women were engaged in a lively conversation as Stella continued to ask her questions, happy to keep her mind occupied and off all thoughts of Jake and the little tension earlier. Eventually, however, last orders were called and the 4 agreed it was time to go.

“Jolene seemed nice.” Stella broke the silence that had fallen in the car. “They make a nice couple.”

"Yeah, Pooch is a good guy and she’s a nice gal so…" Jensen agreed, hands on the wheel.

They both fell silent again, Jake concentrating on the road ahead. He was anxious and hoped Stella hadn't noticed, though they had never been so silent in a car drive. Something had been bugging him since that night in the barracks after the mission. The sex had been amazing, it always had been, but whereas they normally left it at that but now… well, being around their hometown, the place they had grown up and first started dated, going out and just doing things they used to do was sparking all sorts of feelings within him. Just an hour before, calling her his girl had just slipped out, and he’d realised from her reaction as soon as he’d done it that he shouldn’t have.

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he drove, trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing breaking it off 5 years ago. But he was also cursing himself at the same time, because being around her yesterday and today, in a normal environment, he realised that just as he’d told her that night after the mission he missed her. And not just the sex. But her. The difference being now, as he pulled onto her road, he realised he didn’t just miss her because he hadn’t seen her. He missed her being his. 

 His. That was his last thought as he parked up at her driveway.

"Thanks Jakey, I had fun today." Stella said, looking at him for the first time since they got in the car.

"Me too, Stel." Jensen said as he nodded.

And there was a silent pause as Stella digested the fact he wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were fixed on some point beyond the windshield.

"Ok, erm.." Stella spoke but paused to clear her throat. "Well, have a safe trip over to Base and I guess I’ll see you in a week."

He still didn't say anything, he only nodded in agreement. His eyes still not on her. So she opened the door, ignoring the lump on her throat, and made to leave when she felt him gently grabbing her arm.

"Stel…"

She stopped and looked at him. He was now looking at her, almost pleadingly, as he reached out, gently gripping her chin in his finger and thumb, his eyes bouncing across hers.

"Jake, I don’t think we..." she whispered but her protests died as he pressed his lips to her.  It was a furious and needy kiss, his tongue harshly dominating hers, and when he pulled away he pressed his head to hers.

"See you in a week, doll." he said, his eyes boring into hers.

"Yeah, see you." she whispered, before getting out of the car

She looked back once to wave as he was waiting to make sure she got inside, as he always did. Once in she shut the front door and headed to the kitchen. Just as she turned around and took the first step her mom walked out of the living room.

"Not in a relationship, eh?" 

"Were you spying on me?" Stella asked. Best defence is offense after all…

Her mother shrugged, a smile threatening to spread on her face. She liked Jake, she had always liked him and what was more, though she would rather be caught dead than admit to it, she liked him more than she would ever like Rick in a million years. But then, what was more important to a mother than their daughters' happiness?

 Stella sighed. "It's complicated."

"Sure it is. Night honey.” her mother said and, after placing a kiss on her head, she left her to it.

Stella said goodnight and headed into the kitchen for a bottle of water.  She uncapped it and leaned on the counter. It had taken her a while to get to a point where she could simply fuck Jake and leave it at that, but even then deep down she knew she had been kidding herself, fooling herself. He had been right in the bar before, she was bitter. Bitter that he had given up so easily when she thought they had something special. And she’d been that much of a sucker that she’d gone along with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement because the thought of not being with him at all had made her feel sick. 

During the last 12 months they had drifted apart and even though she’d hated it at first and it had killed her, it had done her the world of good in that she had finally worked him out of her system.

Or so she thought she had.

Because here she was, less than 2 weeks of being back in his presence and she was already slipping back down that deep, dark hole. After that night post the mission they hadn’t been together that way, at all, but then the previous day he’d shown up and today he had taken her out, for what had been a really fun afternoon and evening, and it had felt just like old times. 

Especially when he had kissed her like that. 

Jensen was the king of giving off mixed signals, he always had been. Hell, it had taken her years to figure out he liked her that way. But they weren’t in high school anymore, and it was easy, far too easy to get swept back into something that meant more to her than it did to him. She knew she had to put a stop to it, because someone was going to get hurt. And that someone was likely to be her.

Lost in her thoughts she drained the bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin before running her hand through her hair sighing to herself. 

“I’m fucked.” 

**** Chapter 2

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 1- GI Joe and Army Barbie Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Following the Child Sex Trafficking job, The Losers all go their own way for a break before they are due back in Fairfax County. Stella is enjoying some quiet time with her mother.

 And Jensen.

 But noting is EVER quiet where he is involved.

 Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  So here it is! We’ve been waiting to bring you this one for a LOOOOONG time, and we hope we don’t disappoint. We can’t wait to dive into this fic! We pick up in 2007, roughly 2 years or so before the events of the Losers Film (in our head anyway) and we can’t wait to cram it full of adventure. Please let us know what you think with a reblog and a comment.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist 

May 2007

Stella and her mom sat in the kitchen of her childhood home in Manchester, New Hampshire. It was late morning one Friday morning, the day after she had returned home following debriefs at the CIA. It had been an emotional reunion, not having seen her mother for almost 8 months in person. They’d stayed up late with a bottle of wine before retiring to bed and after a lazy morning she had eaten a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs, god knows how many rounds of toast and some decent coffee.

“Have you had enough to eat honey?” Her mom asked.

“Yup, honestly I’m stuffed, Ma. It feels good to be eating home cooked food for a change.” She smiled.

“Yeah, well, God only knows what you’ve been eating out there.” Julie mumbled as Stella smiled at her mom’s typical mother concern.

“So when are you due back in the office?” Julie pressed and Stella’s smile grew even wider at her mom’s name for the George Bush Centre for Intelligence in Fairfax County, the CIA HQ where The Losers would be based predominantly when they weren’t running missions.

“I have another week of leave. They gave me longer seeing as I was down there for so long. Clay and the rest only got a few days, much to Jake’s disgust, he heads back over there Monday.” Stella shook her head snorting “You know if he had his way he would be on permanent leave, drinking and watching football on TV.”

“He hasn’t changed then?” Julie grinned.

“Nope.”

“I bumped into his mom the other day at the supermarket.” Stella’s mom continued.

“Yeah? How is Janet?”

“She’s good.” Julie nodded “John has been building a new shed for the garden…or maybe it was a summer house. Either way, they were planning on having a BBQ soon when Gracie finishes school”

“Sounds good, have you seen them much at all recently?” Stella asked.

“We’ve got together a few times yes. Which reminds me….” Julie narrowed her eyes “She told me Jake has been back in the US now for 12 months. You tell him from me he’s gonna get a slap for not coming over to see me when he came back home to visit.”

Stella laughed “I’ll make sure he knows how disgusted you are in him, don’t worry.”

They sat chatting for a little while longer before Julie stood up to clear the plates, waving away Stella’s offer of help, as she always did when she was home. Stella headed into the lounge, picked up her laptop and opened up her browser, dialling into her military account. About 15 minutes later Julie walked in.

“What are you doing?”

“I got some paper work and stuff to sort, you know for the accommodation in the Condo that Clay sent me through.” Julie shook her head, “You know, Estella, I really wish you’d get a normal job-“

Stella sighed “Ma, don’t start…”

“You’re as stubborn as your father and look where that got him!”

“Wow.” Stella looked up, arching her eyebrow. “Nice. Good guilt trip.”

“You’re my little girl.” Julie’s voice grew quiet. “ I worry. And I miss you. “I know, but…this is my job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” Stella shrugged “But now, I’m home and…I’m not on tour all the time. I’ll be back for a week once very month and, well, you still have Rey, she literally lives 10 minutes away!”

Julie rolled her eyes “For all the good that does. She only visits when she wants food or to complain about something.”

Stella seized the opportunity to divert the conversation and she snorted “Complain about what? Which fucking sports car Richard wants to buy her next. Or because he doesn’t like whatever pretentious middle name she has planned for their first born?” Before Julie could reply they both heard the back door open to the kitchen and a familiar voice called “Yo, Stevensons…” Julie looked at Stella who rolled her eyes. “Speak of the devil…”

Jensen appeared in the doorway to the lounge, grinning “Oh, we’re you talking about me gorgeous?”

“No I was, and how you’ve been home on US soil for almost a year and not paid me one visit Jacob.” Julie glared at him, folding her arms.

“Oooh the full name. Am I in trouble?” Jensen grinned.

“Yes, you damned well are JJ.” Julie said, opening her arms “Now come here…”

Grinning Jensen stepped forward to give Stella’s mum a hug, pulling back with a yelp as she slapped him round the head.

“Shit, Jules!! What the hell was that for?”

“I told you! Your mother was telling me just the other day you’ve been back to Manchester now a few times and didn’t even think of paying me a visit?”

“Sorry Jules, been busy”

Julie narrowed her eyes “Busy doing what?”

“Wow. I really am in trouble huh.” Jensen shrugged. Stella snorted and Jensen looked over at where she was concentrating on the screen of her laptop. “What you doing Stel?” Stella let out a sigh at the same time her mother did, before Julie headed back into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Jensen asked, watching Julie leave before he turned to Stella “Am I supposed to sigh now?” “I was just filling in the paper work for the condo.” She replied as Jake sat next to her “Mom still isn’t a big fan of me being in the military. Swear she still thinks I’m 10 or something.”

“Well I know for a fact you aren’t” Jensen flashed her his trademark goofy smile and Stella slapped his arm.

“Shut up JJ” “Ouch…!” Jake rubbed his arm “Stel, be gentle.” She rolled her eyes and he reached for her laptop “Ok, let me see…” he glanced at the computer “You know this thing is totally outdated?”

“It does a job, I don’t care.” “Speaking of jobs…” Jensen looked towards the kitchen door, “How about you and me…”

“Jesus Jake!” Stella looked at him as he grinned “Here, whilst my mom is home? You have issues.”

“Didn’t bother you once upon a time…”

“Yeah, well I didn’t know any better, you’re living proof of that. And besides, I’ve grown up since then. You should try it.” “Hmmm, you know one of the perks of being Black Ops means we all get our own private digs in the Condo” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I swear to god Jake, you’re a fucking nightmare.” Stella rubbed her temples “Why are you here?”

“Came to invite you to the Petunia’s game tomorrow. It’s been a while since we went out on a date babe.”

“A while?” Stella shook her head laughing. “Your concept of time measurement really amazes me.” Jake chuckled “So whaddya say?” he asked, giving her a goofy grin.

“Yeah why not?” Stella asked “Which girl wouldn’t dream of going to watch an under 8’s girl soccer game? Can’t believe my luck.” “Don’t be a whiny bitch!” Jake rolled his eyes “We’re meeting Pooch and his girl later in the evening for drinks.”

“Great, so now it’s turned into a double date.” She rolled her eyes.

“Why you being so grumpy Stel?” Jake frowned.

Stella sighed “Sorry Jakey…just..oh I dunno, I guess mom just pissed me off a bit that’s all. Bringing up my dad, suggesting I’m gonna go the same way he did.”

Jake pondered this for a moment before he took a deep breath. “You know she’s just worried about you that’s all.”

Stella smiled “I know…I know. Doesn’t help I can’t really tell her what I’m doing, other than running CIA tasked missions.”

“Come’ ere…” Jake threw an arm round her and she leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder. “How about I help you fill that paper work out and then we can head and grab some lunch or a drink, whatever.”

“Now that’s actually quite a good idea.”

Jensen smiled and gently kissed her head. “It happens occasionally.”

Stella looked up at him “Guess it’s my lucky day then.”

“Well mine was like 9 years ago so guess I can say about time Stel.”

“Smooth…” she rolled her eyes and he shrugged, dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss, but before it could go any deeper another loud voice rang out from the kitchen and Stella pulled away giving a groan.

“Just what I fucking need.”

Jensen grimaced at the sound of Stella’s eldest sister as her airey tone grew louder, before the door to the lounge opened

“Aww GI Joe and Army Barbie are back in town.”  

“Fuck off Aubrey.” Stella looked up at where her sister was stood leaning in the doorframe.

“Hello to you too.” Aubrey rolled her eyes.

“S’up Rey? How’s Dick?” Jensen grinned at her. Stella nudged him, trying hard not to smirk

“You know full well his name is Rick, Jacob.” Aubrey replied with a bored tone. “You were at the wedding after all.

“Yeah…” Jensen mused “Still looks like a Dick to me.”

At that Stella snorted and he flashed her a quick wink. She loved how he always had her back against her sister and her snobby bastard husband. Aubrey merely rolled her eyes, she was well used to Jake and his quips by now.

“Yeah laugh all you want losers” and with that she left and made her way to the kitchen

“Well, she’s not wrong we are Losers.” Jake shrugged “Yeah but she doesn’t know, let’s keep it that way.” Stella sighed, before she shook her head “I don’t know how your sister is still friends with her, I mean out of choice? Really?

“Well, us Jensens are made to please.”

At that point Julie re-entered the living room “Jake are you staying for lunch or are you expected anywhere else to please today? I’m making lasagne.”

“Mom we literally ate breakfast an hour ago.” Stella looked up at her and Julie smiled.

“I know, but I’m making the pasta from fresh and have a few other things to do so it won’t be ready for a while.  You two do your…thing and let me know what you decide. Rick and Rey are staying, he’s coming later so…” “Can’t wait.” Stella deadpanned.

“Please don’t start Estella…” Julie shot her a look.

“Anyway, change of subject…how is her shit soap selling?” Jake leaned back on the sofa and Stella snorted.

“Ask her, I dare you.  I’d pay to see her face.”

“I’d do it for free if it makes you smile.”

“You two, behave if you’re staying.” Julie said sternly, pointing at them both.

“You gonna be pissed if we don’t stay?” Stella looked at her mom.

“I’ll be more pissed if you do and don’t behave.” The reply came back.

“Cross my heart Jules…” Jensen made the sign over his chest “Best behaviour. Anything for your lasagne.”

“Glad to hear it Jake.” Julie raised her eyebrow and then turned from the room.

“Looks like we’re staying then.” Stella looked at Jensen who merely grinned back.

“Sorry Stel, but you know I love verbal sparring with Rick the Prick.”

She snorted “You’re a bad man JJ” “I’m your bad man.” He winked.

Stella looked at him, cocking her head to one side trying to figure out what exactly he meant. As far as she was concerned he wasn’t after anything serious. Especially seeing he was the one that broke it off 4 years ago. Sure they’d fallen into the whole friends with benefits thing but it was no strings and all that…

She took a deep breath, cleared her throat and nodded to her laptop “So, er…forms?”

****

Two hours later they were still filling in the damned paperwork, Stella having a lot to complete…that and the fact they’d been distracted a bit by laughing and joking around, Jake showing her on Google Maps the location of a few good restaurants and bars not too far from the Condo to head to. They both looked up as Julie walked back into the lounge to tell them lunch would be ready in 20. They finished up what they were doing before walking into the Kitchen where Stella was greeted by her brother-in-law with his usual stiff hug, whereas Jake took great delight in pumping his hand up and down furiously, grinning at him.

Stella shook her head, smiling to herself as they all sat down outside in the garden, making the most of the nice weather, and began to eat. Richard was telling some boring tale from his office and Jensen was hanging off his every word, pretending to give a shit when Stella knew nothing could be further from the truth. He was merely waiting for his opportunity, which was handed to him a few minutes later by Rey who couldn’t resist getting the first shot in.

“Jake, how’s the army geek life treating you?”

“Great Rey, how’s the soap?”

Stella instantly choked on her water, and Jensen looked at her, patting her on the back as she recovered.

“Oh, it’s ok.” Rey waved a hand “I haven’t made much recently, been so busy with you know…other stuff.” “Yeah, that other stuff just keeps gettin’ in the way of…soap.” Jake shook his head.

“Are you joking with me now?” Rey narrowed her eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jensen shook his head. “In fact, I’m in awe of you. I mean it literally amazes me how you can make that stuff and sell it when you hate getting your hands dirty so much.” Jake swallowed a mouth of his food and grinned at her.

Rey glared at Jake “I wear gloves, ass-wipe.”

“You really don’t get irony do you?” Stella laughed, taking a drink from her glass of water.

At that point her mother caught her eye and gave her a stern glare, her earlier warning to the two of them to behave flashed across Stella’s mind but she was struggling to care. Her and Jake ‘Tag-teaming’ Rey and Rick was a well-practised art that the two of them had fine-tuned over the years, and it was the only time Stella ever felt she could get one up on her sister.

Rey looked at her and flicked her hair behind her shoulder “You may laugh but its selling really well. I’m actually thinking of expanding into a baby range.”

“Be handy for when we get pregnant.” Rick smiled at her.

Stella pulled a face as Jake grinned “You guys have that planned too? A designer little Rick or Rey on its way?”

Aubrey smiled and looked adoringly at Rick in a way that made Stella want to barf “Yeah, we’ve been trying.”

“Code for we’ve been fucking non-stop like Rabbits.” Stella mumbled.

“Estella!” Julie said sharply as Rey glared at her.

“Just because you can’t get your own relationship sorted…” she shot

“I’m not in a relationship, as well you know.”

“You sure?” Rey stared back at her, her eyes flicking to Jensen for a second.  Stella felt herself grow red.

“Fuck off.”

“Ok that’s enough!” Julie said loudly “Can the pair of you just not stop this sniping for even one damned hour?”

Stella took a deep breath “Sorry Ma.”

Jake who had remained quiet, up until that point chipped up again, deflecting the conversation.

“Huh…” he pondered something before he pointed his fork at Rey “You know, if you’re trying to get pregnant it’s highly recommended to be in good spirits. You keep getting so angry and snippy at people, you’re gonna scare Rick’s little soldiers away. It’s a question of PH.”

Rey and Rick exchanged a glance whilst Julie looked down at her plate, coughing slightly, a smile flickering on her mouth, her admonishing clearly forgotten. Stella’s eyes moved from her mother to Jake and she mouthed ‘are you for real?’

Jensen simply grinned, shrugging, as Stella shook her head, trying not to laugh. She adored Jake when he was in full on playful mode like this. He was always full of random, stupid trivia that you could never tell whether was actual fact or simply made up for the sake of sheer, stupid comedy value and he could use it perfectly to diffuse a situation and divert attention just as he had done right now. The best bit was, that Rey and Rick were utterly oblivious to his tactic and were now looking at him, like his words were gospel.

“Where the hell did you hear that?” Rey asked.

“I read it in Nature…” Jake shrugged, taking another mouthful of his food.

“I’m impressed Jake.” Rick looked at him.

“Well, sometimes I’m more than just a pretty face Dick.” Jensen shrugged.

Rick blinked “Did he just-“

“Jules, I gotta say…” Jensen cut him off before he could finish, flashing Julie his best smile “This lasagne as always is delicious.”

*****

“Damned Stel…” Jakey mumbled to himself as she heads to car. Taking in her tight jeans that show off her ass and legs, her khaki green silk chami top which hung loosely off her frame, exposing her collar bone and her light grey jacket, set off with a pair of stylish Oakley Holbrooks with matte black frames and red iridium lenses. Her hair was pulled into a side braid which hung down her right shoulder and when she smiled at him he shifted slightly in his seat.

“You look nice.” He recovered himself enough to smile as she climbed into the car.

“Thanks JJ.” She turned to him, taking in his dark jeans and grey and blue button down. “No Petunias T-shirt?”

“Well I figured seeing as we’re going out afterwards I should make a bit of an effort.” He grinned, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Stella arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“See your dad got a new car…” she mused, taking in the interior of the silver chevvy blazer before she grinned “Pity he got rid of the ford…”

Jensen smirked “Yeah, we had…good times on that back seat.”

Stella smiled and looked out of the window, before she turned back to Jake as he drove off up the road. “So who are they playing today?” she asked

“A team called the Oaks.” He said “I was checking their scores the other day, they lost their last 5 games so...” Stella smiled “You get far too invested in this you know?”

Jensen shrugged. “What can I say, I like soccer.”

Their conversation continued on the 10 minute or so drive to the Petunia’s home pitch, and eventually strayed to Jensen’s sister Jane before it moved onto their lunch yesterday and how Julie had given Stella a ticking off once Jake had left.

“You know Rey has been googling that PH bull shit don’t you?” Stella looked at Jensen as he drove towards the soccer pitches “And she’s realised it’s just that. Bull shit.” Jensen shrugged “I don’t care, she was being a bitch to you.”

“Well thankfully she left about an hour after you did yesterday so I didn’t have to put up with her for much longer.” Stella shrugged “Still, was long enough for her to keep talking about fucking soap.”

Jensen grinned “I think I touched a nerve?”

“No shit.” Stella grumbled “You know what she said? After all that about how well it was selling and them expanding the range, she told ma she only made $500 last month!”

Jensen laughed as he swung the car into a spot by the side of the road. “Yeah, that’s…not great.”

“I did point out that maybe the reason people don’t buy whatever shit she sells because they freak out at the ridiculously ostentatious name of the company.

“The Bath To Righteousness” Jensen grinned as they both climbed out. “Yeah it is pretty pretentious. Stuff like that needs an angle you know? These companies selling homemade, organic shit are ten a penny. It needs to be a catchy name, something punchy.”

“What would you call it?” Stella looked at him, slipping her arm through his as they headed over to the pitch The Petunias were playing on.

“I’ve got Soap, Bitches.” He nodded firmly. Stella burst into laughter. “Or Lick My Soap.” Jensen continued reeling off stupid names as they approached the side lines. “Soap In Your Hole…Hit Me with Your Best Soap…Slippery when Wet… Don’t Buy Soap, Won’t Be Soap”

Stella was laughing that hard she was struggling to breathe. Jensen grinned as her nose crinkled up and she let go of his arm, doubling over, clutching her stomach. “Don’t buy soap, won’t be soap?” she managed to stutter, wiping her eyes “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It’s from an ancient Tibetan philosophy- don’t start none, won’t be none.”

“You’re so full of crap.” She snorted, shaking her head.

“Maybe I should eat one of those soap bars then?”

Stella began to laugh again and at that point Jake’s sister Jane appeared from wherever she had been and looked at the pair of them over her shades. “What the hell’s got into you?” she looked at Stella, a smile playing on her face.

“Hey Jane, What’s soap, I mean up.” Jensen quipped and Stella let out another loud howl of laughter. Jake looked at her, laughing a little before Jane shook her head

“I just can’t with you two…” Jane grinned and gave Stella a hug. “Good to see you Stel.”

“You too Jane. You look well.” She said, stepping back to take the blonde woman in fully. “Where’s Gracie?” “Oh they’re over there with their coach.” Jane said, waving her hand in the direction of the pitch “She’s been asking about you all day. Ever since Jake said you were coming she’s been so excited.”

“I can’t wait to see her either, it’s been like a year!”

“Oh she’s grown up a lot. You’ll see.” Jane smiled.

“Hear that JJ- grown up.” Stella looked at him. “Seems even your niece can manage it.”

“Says the girl that almost pissed herself laughing at the phrase slippery when wet.” Jensen eyed her over his shades and she shrugged.

“I daren’t even ask…” Jane looked at them both and Jensen simply waved her comment away.

“Oh we were just trying to think of ways to help Rey boost her soap sales.” He shrugged.

“Do I really wanna know?” Jane asked, “Mind you, she’ll probably chew my ear off about it all later.”

It wasn’t long before the teams head out to the pitch and the three of them took their seats on the small stand as they kicked off.

“I’d kill for a beer.” Stella mumbled about 5 minutes later.

“Well, I nearly bought some but thought better not. I got caught last time and fined- broke a by law apparently.” Jensen said, his eyes not leaving the game “Jane went bezerk. She’s kinda scary when she gets mad. Like you.”

Stella smiled and turned back to the game for a little while, until the Petunias made a break for goal, only to have the girl who was running through felled down by one of the Oak’s defenders.

“Oh look at that!” Jensen yelled, jumping up “Foul ref…are you blind?”

“Jake sit down.” Jane hissed, looking up at him from where she sat to Stella’s right.

“I’d say this is embarrassing but I’m used to it.” Stella shook her head.

“I swear to god behave or I’ll ban you for life.” Jane threatened him again as he continued to yell down to the pitch.

“Can you sit down please?” A voice came from behind them and Stella looked at the woman who was speaking “You’re blocking my view”

“For fucks sake…” Stella grumbled, reaching up with her left hand and yanking on his shirt “Jakey, sit!”

With a grumble he did as he was told and leaned across Stella to look at Jane “You soccer mums are a nightmare.” Jane glared at him, Stella remained focussing on the game, trying not to laugh. When Jensen moved to sit back she looked at Jane and mouthed “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jane shook her head “He’s far worse when you’re not around.”

“God help you.”

“Yeah there was this one time he was that bad Gracie stopped talking to him for an entire weekend. Poor Kid hadn’t been so embarrassed in her life.” Jane mumbled. Jensen turned to look to his right at Stella and his sister, frowning.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“You.” Stella looked at him “Now shut up and behave.”

“No need to be so aggressive babe.” He arched an eyebrow but obeyed anyway.

“Stella, can I hire you for like ALL the games?” Jane asked, nodding to the fact Jensen was, for once, doing as he was told.

Stella snorted, shaking her head as she turned back to the match.

As it was only a kid’s game, they only played 20 minutes either half. The first one closed at 0-0 and after a quick 5 minutes break they swapped ends and kicked off the second half. About 5 minutes in the Petunias broke and this time thanks to a great pass through from Gracie they scored. Naturally Jake cheering loudest. The rest of the half was uneventful and the game ended at 1-0. As everyone began to move, the three of them headed down to the side lines, Gracie trotting towards them.

“Stella!” she grinned, throwing herself at the woman. Stella grabbed her in a hug, swinging her round slightly.

“OMG look at you! You got taller!” she smiled, ruffling her hair.

Gracie grinned “I know. But it has been a while since I saw you.” She admonished Stella a little.

“Really?” Stella grinned “Doesn’t seem that long.”

“Did you see my goal assist?” Gracie asked and Stella nodded.

“Of course I saw it honey, you were great!”

“Alright, alight, favourite uncle right here.” Jensen said, gesturing to himself.

“You’re my only uncle, duh.” Gracie rolled her eyes.

“Well guess that makes me your favourite by default then.” Jensen shrugged.

Stella pat his shoulder gently. “You were brilliant JJ.”

At that Gracie gave a snigger.

They chatted for a little while longer before Jake said they needed to leave to meet Pooch and ‘future Mrs. Pooch’. Gracie wasn’t impressed at Stella going so soon and there was a brewing tantrum until Stella assured her it wouldn’t be too long before she saw her again. In all honesty, Jensen could have spent the rest of the evening watching his niece and Stella interact. He had to concede Stel had a way with children which contrasted with the focused military Captain persona who was now part of an elite black-ops team . Mind you, Gracie had known Stella her entire life. Granted, Gracie had spent more time with Aubrey, being as she was one of her mother's best friends, than with Stel and yet it wasn't hard to tell Stel was one of Gracie's favourite people in the world. 

So after a vague promise to take Gracie out for an ice cream during the week she still had left of her leave, Stella managed to avert the tantrum and they said goodbye and headed back to the car. 

When they got to Tandy's, almost half an hour later, Pooch and his fiancé were already at the bar waiting for them.  Pooch stood up as he spotted them approaching and he pulled Stella into a hug before greeting and patting Jensen's back and introducing Stella to his wife-to-be, Jolene. They grabbed a drink and sat down, the 4 of them chatting for a little while. Pooch and Jolene told Stella all about their wedding plans, which sounded like a beautiful ceremony planned for the following year in Mexico. 

Stella was asking the reason for their wedding ceremony being in Mexico when they finished their first round. Jensen, noticing their glasses were empty, stood up to go get another round, he had already had his share of Pooch's wedding plans for the past year, and Jolene excused herself to go to the bathroom soon after, leaving Stella and Pooch alone. 

"So you enjoying the chance to be at home for a few weeks Arty?" Pooch asked her.

"It’s great being with my mom but she’s already driving me crazy, telling me I need to leave the army and get a good, normal job. She’d have a fit if she knew I was part of this Elite Black ops shit."

Pooch chuckled "Well, it’s not all undercover life or death situations. You know, Jensen ended up doing 2 months at HQ working on some online terrorist cell last year. Cougar has run a few sniping jobs too. I ran a couple of training ops with some troops in Canada."

"Yeah. Clay mentioned it’s pretty mundane on the whole…" Stella nodded, as she fiddled with the coaster on the table.

"So it’s good to be reasonably close to home, you know? Well, I say reasonably close…still like a 7 and a half hour drive. Hurrah for Military Discount on airfare…or you can go via New York and take a night there.” Pooch shrugged “Me and Jensen done that a few times. Although keeping tabs on him in Times Square can be a pain in the ass…"

"Yeah I can imagine." she laughed.

"So, what’s your dad think about your career choice?" Pooch asked then.

"No idea, he died when I was 10." Stella shrugged.

"Shit, sorry." Pooch apologised, eyes wide open at the realisation of his gaffe.

Stella gave him a comforting smile. "It's ok. You didn't know."

"No siblings?" Pooch inquired and Stella could feel his wariness as he asked another personal question.

"One." she smiled again. "Sister, she’s…” Stella hesitated, trying to thing of the most diplomatic way to phrase what she wanted to say. “Well, she’s very different to me. Her husband is a Finance Director for Lockheed Martin and earns a ridiculous amount of money so she doesn’t work. Well, unless you count running an online Etsy shop selling home-made soaps. She’s friends with JJ’s sister although fuck knows how Jane puts up with her."

"I could ask you the same thing about Jensen." Pooch joked, nodding at Jensen at the bar and Stella smiled again. 

By then Pooch had noticed Arty smiled a lot. She had a warm smile that made him feel comfortable around her. That and the fact she wasn't shy to talk about her life with him. He liked her and thus he was curious about what the real nature of her relationship with Jensen was.

"So you know his family as well then?" he asked.

"Yeah I’ve known them all since I was 11." she offered.

"That’s nice." Pooch nodded.

"What is?"

"You guys being so close since you were kids." he said, smiling.

Stella smiled at him again but it was now a mischievous smile "He told you how we met?"

Pooch shook his head "No."

"It was first week of middle school. I was walking to class and my bag split. He came over to help me pick up my stuff, smacked his head straight into mine as he stood up."  she stopped to let Pooch laugh it up.

"He banged his head?” Pooch snorted “Yeah that…that sounds like Captain Chaos alright…”

Stella shook her head as she gave Pooch a nudge, stretching her arm over the table. "Don’t laugh, he was cute. A dork but cute. And he was a friend. My dad had only been dead 6 months or so and we had moved back home from Kentucky to be nearer our grandparents so I didn’t really know anyone. But, he came straight over when everyone else was laughing at me and he deliberately placed himself so no one would see me crying." At that Pooch saw Stella glancing over at Jensen, smiling softly. "Been hanging out ever since."

"So when did you two…you know…cross the line so to speak."

"He asked me out on my 17th birthday. I’d liked him for years but didn’t think he thought of me in that way. We dated through senior year and then we both went off to Norwich University for the ROTC." She explained.

"Oh, so you didn’t direct enter either then?"

"No. I talked to Clay about it and he suggested I do the ROTC so I could get a college education as well. I mentioned it to Jakey and we both went for it."

"So, excuse my prying but why you two beak up? Seems like you were together for pretty much the most important decisions of your lives?"

Stella hesitated before answering. Although she didn't mind talking to Pooch it was the first time she explained her and Jensen's story to anyone. She hadn’t needed to up to that point, seeing as everyone she had met till then didn't know Jake too, bar their respective families and friends and they already knew what the deal between them was. Sort of.

For the first time Pooch felt like she wasn't that willing to answer. "Well, after the ROTC thing we both got our first overseas postings and, well, he suggested that maybe it was better if we called it quits before the distance tore us apart and we resented one another. I agreed. We stayed friends though."

"Friends with benefits, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that." she snorted.

Pooch looked at her. He sensed it was better not to pry more on the subject so he decided to change topics.

"So, you know Clay of old then?" he asked, remembering Clay had warned them she was like a daughter to him.

"Yeah he was in the Army with my dad. My dad was a major in the Screaming Eagles, you heard of them?"

Pooch nodded "The 101st airborne division, right?"

Stella nodded too. "Clay was first lieutenant in his command. He was killed when they launched the operation to cut off Highway 8. One of only 16 to die. Clay took it hard, he was literally right by dad when he died. A foot to the right and he’d have taken the bullet not dad, and he felt guilty for ages for not spotting the sniper but…either way one of them ended up dead. I mean, dad was only 45 when he died and Clay would have been…what, 28 or so at the time, maybe? Either way it’ no age, total waste of a life."

"You know, Clay never really talks about his past much but he did tell us once that seeing his friend die at the hand of an insurgent was what spurred him into the Special Ops. He wanted to get involved in tracking down terrorists, making places safer. Never knew who he was talking about though." Pooch offered.

"Well now you do." she shrugged "I expect it's painful for him to talk about. We’ve all been there, lost people …it’s hard."

"So that's why you joined as well? Your dad?" Pooch asked.

"Yeah. Much to Mom’s disgust. She called Clay, thought he would talk me out of it. I think his words to my mum were, and I quote “ I don’t stand a chance Jules, you know she looks up to Ian’s memory like he’s Captain America….”." 

Pooch laughed out loud and Stella grinned. "Yeah she’s still not best pleased with him. And when I got stationed over in Iraq, well, I thought she was gonna hunt him down and kill him with her bare hands."

"You clearly made the right career choice though, I mean you made Captain pretty fast." Pooch stated with real admiration. “Just like Jensen did.”

"A lot of that was down to doing the ROTC and circumstance. Right place, right time…you know what it’s like in the field. They need commissioned, senior officers in Delta Force, I dare say female ones specifically to ‘fil the quota’ so to speak. I did my job well and…" she shrugged.

"From what I hear you’re selling yourself short. Clay speaks very highly of you. He was raving about this person on the inside for the entire time we were running that last op."

Stella smiled, after the conversation with her mother the day before and having to put up with her sister and brother in law's perfect life all over the weekend, Clay's words were like a balm to her. 

"Good to know I’m doing something right."

Pooch was pondering Stella's words when Jensen returned from the bar with a couple of beer bottles and two deep orange coloured cocktails.

"Sorry guys, they had a new bartender who wasn't very sure about the best way to prepare a Sailor's Grave." He shrugged “So, this is for Pooch, this is for Mrs. Pooch and this one is for my girl…" he said, placing the drinks ceremoniously on the table, flashing a wink at Stella when he said the last part.

Pooch raised an eyebrow at Stella. The boundaries in Jensen and Stella's relationship, whatever that was, were clearly a little blurred.

Stella rolled her eyes before speaking "I’m not your girl Jake, not since you dumped me when you went over to Burkina Faso." She flinched a little as that came out slightly harsher than she meant and Jensen noticed.

 "Ouch doll. Bitter much?" he frowned.

Stella took a deep breath but didn’t say anything. Worst thing she could do was encourage him, whether it was in favour or against, his attempts of flirting. Thankfully, at that moment Jolene returned to the booth.

"Sorry I took so long, I got a call from the office." She apologised as she sat at her place next to Pooch.

Stella seized the chance to divert the conversation and get Jake out of her mind and sight for a minute and she smiled at Jolene and asked “So what do you do for a living?”

"Oh I’m a paralegal for a local firm in Concord." Jolene explained before taking a sip from her cocktail.

Soon both women were engaged in a lively conversation as Stella continued to ask her questions, happy to keep her mind occupied and off all thoughts of Jake and the little tension earlier. Eventually, however, last orders were called and the 4 agreed it was time to go.

“Jolene seemed nice.” Stella broke the silence that had fallen in the car. “They make a nice couple.”

"Yeah, Pooch is a good guy and she’s a nice gal so…" Jensen agreed, hands on the wheel.

They both fell silent again, Jake concentrating on the road ahead. He was anxious and hoped Stella hadn't noticed, though they had never been so silent in a car drive. Something had been bugging him since that night in the barracks after the mission Stella had been undercover for. The sex had been amazing, it always was, but whereas they normally left it at that now… well, being around their hometown, the place they had grown up and first started dated, going out and just doing things they used to do was sparking all sorts of feelings within him. Just an hour before, calling her his girl had just slipped out, and he’d realised from her reaction as soon as he’d done it that he shouldn’t have.

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he drove, trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing breaking it off 4 years ago. But he was also cursing himself at the same time, because being around her yesterday and today, in a normal environment, he realised that just as he’d told her that night after the mission he missed her. And not just the sex. But her. The difference being now, as he pulled onto her road, he realised he didn’t just miss her because he hadn’t seen her. They’d spent 5 years together after all, and he’d loved every second of it. He missed her being his. 

 His. That was his last thought as he parked up at her driveway.

"Thanks Jakey, I had fun today." Stella said, looking at him for the first time since they got in the car.

"Me too, Stel." Jensen said as he nodded.

And there was a silent pause as Stella digested the fact he wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were fixed on some point beyond the windshield.

"Ok, erm.." Stella spoke but paused to clear her throat. "Well, have a safe trip over to Base and I guess I’ll see you in a week."

He still didn't say anything, he only nodded in agreement. His eyes still not on her. So she opened the door, ignoring the lump on her throat, and made to leave when she felt him gently grabbing her arm.

"Stel…"

She stopped and looked at him. He was now looking at her, almost pleadingly, as he reached out, gently gripping her chin in his finger and thumb, his eyes bouncing across hers.

"Jake, I don’t think we..." she whispered but her protests died as he pressed his lips to her.  It was a furious and needy kiss, his tongue harshly dominating hers, and when he pulled away he pressed his head to hers.

"See you in a week, doll." he said, his eyes boring into hers.

"Yeah, see you." she whispered, before getting out of the car

She looked back once to wave as he was waiting to make sure she got inside, as he always did. Once in she shut the front door and headed to the kitchen. Just as she turned around and took the first step her mom walked out of the living room.

"Not in a relationship, eh?" 

"Were you spying on me?" Stella asked. Best defence is offense after all…

Her mother shrugged, a smile threatening to spread on her face. She liked Jake, she had always liked him and what was more, though she would rather be caught dead than admit to it, she liked him more than she would ever like Rick in a million years. But then, what was more important to a mother than their daughters' happiness?

 Stella sighed. "It's complicated."

"Sure it is. Night honey.” her mother said and, after placing a kiss on her head, she left her to it.

Stella said goodnight and headed into the kitchen for a bottle of water.  She uncapped it and leaned on the counter. It had taken her a while to get to a point where she could simply fuck Jake and leave it at that, but even then deep down she knew she had been kidding herself, fooling herself. He had been right in the bar before, she was bitter. Bitter that he had given up so easily when she thought they had something special. And she���d been that much of a sucker that she’d gone along with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement because the thought of not being with him at all had made her feel sick. 

During the last 12 months they had drifted apart and even though she’d hated it at first and it had killed her, it had done her the world of good in that she had finally worked him out of her system.

Or so she thought she had.

Because here she was, less than 2 weeks of being back in his presence and she was already slipping back down that deep, dark hole. After that night post the mission they hadn’t been together that way, at all, but then the previous day he’d shown up and today he had taken her out, for what had been a really fun afternoon and evening, and it had felt just like old times. 

Especially when he had kissed her like that. 

Jensen was the king of giving off mixed signals, he always had been. Hell, it had taken her years to figure out he liked her that way. But they weren’t in high school anymore, and it was easy, far too easy to get swept back into something that meant more to her than it did to him. She knew she had to put a stop to it, because someone was going to get hurt. And that someone was likely to be her.

Lost in her thoughts she drained the bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin before running her hand through her hair sighing to herself. 

“I’m fucked.” 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {42}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought. 

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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Chapter 42:  Down With The Ship

-Vixen-

Thanks to how close opening night was you were busier than ever making sure things were perfect. You checked, double-checked and even triple checked everything, décor, menu, staff, vendors, setting, everything. You left nothing untouched by your meticulous eye and obsessive-compulsive attention. This meant you ate, slept and breathed your restaurant. You were up before sunrise out after breakfast with Ella, gone all day and not back until just before midnight. It was exhausting and you missed spending time with Ella but you were grateful for the distraction.

 Before you knew it two weeks had passed since your life imploded. Two weeks since the story of the decade broke. For those two weeks, you were hounded by paparazzi almost everywhere. You were now on their radar and they were learning your moves. You had to be extra careful not to lead them back home to Ella. When Ella went anywhere it was usually with Nexus who was more than happy to play mom. She said it was great practice which made you think that things with Anthony were getting even more serious.

 For the two weeks Chris called, but you ignored every one of them. What began as four or five calls a day dwindled to two then one. You still didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. You had way too much going on and you didn’t want to add to your plate. You took a meeting with Charmaine St. John to hear all she had to say then abruptly told her you didn’t want anything from him when she eluded you could get a “nice cut.” 

She looked shocked at that. Then when you went on to say you weren’t going to proceed with taking half of everything she almost fell out of her seat. It was clear she was used to dealing with jilted Hollywood wives who felt entitled no matter what and wanted to go down fighting. That wasn’t you. You just wanted peace and quiet. She prepared the paperwork and faxed it to you. It was paperwork you still held on to.

Ella’s inquiries about Chris increased. What was once or twice a day turned into three or four or even five. The numerous facetime calls you’d orchestrated between Ella and Chris didn’t even seem to have mattered. Every time Nex told you it broke you. This was the reason you were apprehensive to involve him in the first place; this was why you worked as hard as you did to keep everything strictly platonic and complication free. For all the work you attempted you’d ended up right where you didn’t want to be.

You heard the bell chime from your phone and checked it to find an email from Kassius. He’d sent the contract proposal from Food Network a few days ago for you to review and go over with your lawyer. When you did it was revealed that they were being very generous, more generous than you suspected they had been to other no-name chefs. 

According to Charmaine, they were offering an eighteen months contract for production of a cooking show with a twist that was creatively left up to you. Within the eighteen-month period, there were to be four episodes filmed a month, with smaller recordings they hoped to push for YouTube, and an extension review to be done at the end of the contract period. When it came down to money you were shocked by how many figures you saw. Charmaine told you it was very generous, but you should definitely leap on it.

 You were apprehensive because it was rare for them to offer this kind of money to some no-name chef. You suspected and worried that they were showing the “kindness” of their hearts because of everything that was going on and your newly ousted status as Chris Evans’ wife and baby mama. You suspected they wanted to capitalize on it, either way, it was a win/win for them.

 “What’s got you so far away?” Your mother approached and sat across from you. You sighed and shook your head.

 “Remember that deal with Food Network?”

 “Yes, we are all still incredibly proud of you, honey. My god, all your years of work, sleepless nights. I know it has been hard, harder than you let on and I am over the moon for your successes.” You felt the prick of tears. You knew she loved you, you knew she always had your best interest at heart, but this was so nice to hear her praise you rather than berate you for not having a boyfriend let alone a husband.

 “Thanks, mom.” Her smile was warm, as was her hand that rested atop yours.

 “The contract they sent over is—impressive. There is trying to woo someone to join you and then there is going all out. This is all out,” you explained.

 “That’s good, right? So, what’s wrong?”

 “I feel like it’s because I’m now linked to him. I feel like they’re willing to offer these things, this amount of money not because I’m me but because I’m close to him.”

 “I’m going to stop you right there Vixen. You are my daughter, you are smart, talented, willful, ambitious, strong and such a force to be reckoned with. You know everything and if you don’t you fake it till you make it. You have no idea how talented you really are. I do not doubt for a second that the reason you are seeing the fruits of your tireless labor now is because of that talent, ambition and grueling desire to make an amazing life for your family and Ella.” Your tears rolled down your face of their own accord.

 “Vixen, you are a star, that is the reason why your father and I gave you that name. Vixen to the American definition is fierce, fiery-tempered, and it was true. You cried twenty times louder and longer than any of the other babies, you were stubborn, quick to anger, and that temper ooh, it was hot but were you adorable.” She smiled bright which prompted your smile. You sniffled and dried your tears but they kept flowing.

 “Vixen also means female fox. You know I believe in every culture and take pieces where I feel a connection. Guess you can call it my way of keeping in touch with my gypsy spirit, something I think you inherited more so than Nexus. This beautiful free spirit that loathes being tied down, loathes being boxed in and caged like a gilded bird. You want to be free, so you keep running for that freedom. In Japanese culture, there is a creature called Kitsune, a powerful mythical creature with an abundance of intelligence and power. Their energy is bright, hence your middle name. Your name is no coincidence honey, it was destined for you. It is your time. You are here because of you and you alone. Reap those rewards unabashedly,” she finished.

 You could hear the conviction in her voice and see the pride coming off of her. It struck you. Nodding your head, you wiped your face and allowed her words to sink it.

 “It is your time.”

 You signed the contract and faxed it back to Kassius. You were filled with a mix of excitement, happiness, and sadness. You wanted to call him and tell him the good news, tell him about this exciting new thing in your life but you couldn’t. You also wanted to feel the happiness the event deserved but again, you couldn’t, not completely.

  -Chris-

“I cannot believe you would do this! I cannot believe you’d do something so stupid. On the list of stupid things you’ve done which is quite long, this is the stupidest.”

 He sighed and rubbed his face. He was tired of being reprimanded. This was round three with them and by them, he meant all of them. He was now sitting in his office in front of one of the biggest group video calls he’d done. On the screen was his mom, his sisters their significant others, his brother and his partner. It was a full house. He’d sat here for the last forty minutes as they each took a turn telling him what an idiot he was. He listened to it from every point of view, and no matter how he cut it he still felt like a dick.

 “Okay enough! Jesus Christ, I get it I screwed this up,” he shouted.

 “Baby brother, you did more than screwed it up. Ya’ fucked it up!”

 Everyone began talking over each other and none of it sounded any different than when they’d started.

 “Fa’ the love of God!” His shout was loud, and it echoed throughout the first floor of his home. It was loud enough for them to shut their mouths and hear his accent pop through. No one spoke for several long moments.

 “Look, I know what I did was wrong. I know I messed up. I know I should have done things differently. I have gone around it time and time again, I wish I could change what I did, go back and handle it differently. I’m sorry.”

 They still didn’t speak.

 “Chris. Getting past the fact that you lied to us about marrying her and then continued to lie when you realized you were still married. We all can see you’re in love with her, I don’t know how she hasn’t seen it,” Shana stated.

 He didn’t know it was that obvious. Thinking further, he’d practically told you how he felt, he just hadn’t said the words. You had to know.

 “You have to tell her how you actually feel Chris. I get it you’re scared and everything that comes along with it. I get it. At some point though in order to get what you want you have to go after it—or her.”

 He sighed. Somehow this had turned from a berating session to a counseling session.

 “Look, I know you all mean well, but—she hates me.”

 “She doesn’t hate you ya’ idiot. She’s hurt,” Carly informed in an annoyed tone. She then shook her head. “Chris you lied to her and honestly it is just the same as the lie she told. Neither of you are in the right. I get why she lied but you, I don’t get it. You lied to her and she feels stupid, she feels as if maybe you had an agenda. Like maybe you manipulated her and anything that was between you wasn’t real that it was just some figment of the situation that you ensured with your lie,” Carly finished.

 “I had no agenda. All I wanted was a little time to show her what could be there, here between us.”

 “You should have told her and gave her the choice. You took her choice away Chris. I get that rights and choices are huge with her especially seeing how independent she has been her entire life,” his mother simplified.

 He sighed and nodded. She was right. He took your choice just as you’d taken his. Everything he’d felt in the first initial days since you’d told him about Ella you were now feeling. He didn’t think about it in that light.

 “You have to be the one to fix this,” Shanna added.

 “I don’t think I can. She said that they were better off without me.”

 Scott made a “yikes” face, as did the rest of his siblings.

 “Well, you kinda deserve that one. Have you seen what the press are doing to her? Her entire life is plastered everywhere. Not even just her, but Ella’s too. She didn’t ask for this and certainly wasn’t prepared. Her privacy is gone. This blindsided her,” Shanna’s boyfriend enlightened. It was insight from someone like you, normal, away from the eye of the press.

“Regardless if she wants you or not, or if you think she wants you or not you have to make this right. You have to stop using that as a crutch. You have to take a chance, Chris. Don’t she and Ella deserve it?”

 There was the cincher, he thought. He was so used to getting what he wanted with little effort and work. He was now face to face with what he had to do, he had to put in the right kind of work.

  -Vixen-

“Very good Ella, I’m so proud of you. You read that so well.”

 She smiled widely and clapped her hands excitedly. You ruffled her soft curls then kissed her forehead.

 “Mama, I sweepy.”

 “Okay, let’s get the little princess to bed.” You stood, lifted her and carried her to her bedroom while softly singing her favorite lullaby.

 “Smile, though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by. If you smile through your fears and sorrow. Smile and maybe tomorrow, you’ll see the sun come shining through. If you just smile.”

 By the time you made it to her bedroom, she was half asleep. You tucked her in and finished the lullaby while tracing gentle patterns on her scalp. It always did the trick and within a few minutes she was out like a light. You sat there for a few minutes more and just watched her sleep. When you felt like your tears would start you hopped in the shower and allowed it to clam your mind.

 You still had some work to do so you wrapped in your robe after your post-shower ritual and went down to your office and got lost in work. You didn’t know how long you were in there sipping wine and working but when you looked up you heard muffled voices. You stood and slowly walked down the hall. As you got closer you could make out whose voices you were hearing; your mother, Nexus and Chris.

 “I’m very sorry Mrs. Giovanni. There are no words or excuses I can give, and I am ashamed of my actions. I can assure you what I did was not an act of maliciousness or manipulation. I hope with time I can show you how sorry I am and earn your forgiveness,” he said.

 For a few seconds, there were no words, and you were sure that they’d fallen for it. How could they not? He was respectful, sounded sincere, charming and was laying it on thick as fuck. Then your mother spoke.

 “Chris, when I first met you I saw the kind of man you were through your eyes. I know you’re a good man, with good intentions. I know you love Ella and would do anything for her and Vixen. I have no doubt that this wasn’t malicious and I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

 “That doesn’t change that there was harm done, a lot of harm,” Nexus added. You slyly peeped around the corner and saw Nexus leaning on the wall with her arms crossed before her, she was the furthest from him. she was not happy. your mother, on the other hand, looked neutral.

 “You’re right I did cause harm.”

 “Chris, I know that you know what you did. I just don’t know why you did it. I don’t get it and you know what I don’t know if I want to get it. I believed in you, I was rooting for you and I kind of feel responsible for the pain my sister is in. She didn’t deserve to find any of this out through a tabloid show,” Nexus shouted with as low of a whisper as she could manage. You could tell she was angry.

 “You’re right, she didn’t deserve this, any of it. I’m sorry. I just—I want a chance to explain to her. I need to say some things to her.”

 You’d heard enough. Coming around the corner your mother was the first to see you.

 “Get out. There is nothing here for you,” you blurted out and you hoped you sounded believable.

 “Vixen, stop it,” your mother interrupted coming up to you. “The least you can do is hear him out.” Your jaw dropped.

 “The least? Excuse me?”

 “Vixen, this isn’t something that happened to you. You were at the altar with him, you married him the same way he married you. Yes, he wasn’t forthcoming about the status of that marriage, but your life isn’t about you anymore. You have a daughter, a little girl who will be affected by this. She is already affected. She asks for him. She deserves the two of you to get it together.”

 You were speechless. You had no idea she had it in her to be so bold about this. You also hated that she was right. Ella did deserve normalcy. Sighing you cross your arms and roll your eyes.

 “Fine.”

 “Are you sure?” Nexus approached you giving you an inquisitive look. You nodded assuring her you knew what you were doing although you had no idea what you were doing. “Okay. Just holler if you need me.” She gave you a quick hug and walked away with your mother trailing behind you.

 You didn’t look at him, instead, you walked away to the kitchen. You could feel him following you. Once you walked in you made a beeline for the freezer and took out the tequila bottle then filled a glass. You could feel his eyes on you, he didn’t speak, and you were quickly getting annoyed.

 “You better start because I didn’t fuck up.”

 “You’re right, I fucked up,” Chris admitted.

“No shit! You lied to me, Chris. For weeks. You orchestrated everything on the basis of that lie.”

 He rounded the island attempting to get closer. You evaded him and walked around to the opposite side. He stopped and raised his hands in the air. “That’s not true. Not entirely. When Sherman told me about the error and that we were still married I didn’t know what to think or do. I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared to tell you. I thought you'd insist we file and end things.”

 Pulling the glass from your lips you gulped down the liquid more quickly than you should have and felt the intensified burn. “So what! That is a stupid reason, Chris. That doesn’t matter,” you lashed out.

 “Of course it matters. I didn't want to lose you again!”

 The admission had you frozen just staring at him across the island. The words were pretty, but they were said to cover an ugly lie. You closed your eyes and refilled your glass and took another out to fill it. You then slide it across the island to him. There were almost two full minutes of silence. The two of you just sipped your drinks, well he sipped, you gulped. Then he spoke.

 “I’d spent months, years regretting how everything went down three years ago. Spent so many nights sitting up with a glass like this one just watching the ghosts of memories all around me. I spent so much time wishing I'd done things differently, wishing things had ended up differently. Then out of nowhere there you were and the minute I saw you everything I felt three years ago came back, everything I'd been trying to bury for three years came right back.”

 “None of this matters. You lied to me! You used this lie to your advantage. None of it was real. None of it was true.”

 The words stung you even more. The realization that this was reality, that everything over the last few weeks wasn’t anything real. You felt the tears and you tried so hard to keep it in.

 “That's a lie and you know it Vixen.”

 He raised his voice at that point. Realizing his tone, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and slowly blew it out. You took another gulp.

 “This is what I know.” Another swig of tequila burned your throat before you spoke. 

“You said the worst shit to me three years ago, made me feel like a modern day   prostitute, like I was only worth what was between my legs; like that was all I was good for. That fucked me up, it fucked with me for years. Had me second guessing my worth, my value to a man, to you. So I got the hell out of there. Did I regret it? Sometimes, but for the most part no. Then I found out about Ella and I could have told you, I could have tracked you down, but I didn't. I was scared I didn't want to let you anywhere near again so you’d hurt me all over again. Part of me did want to stick it to you for what you did. I can be honest here and now. Then three years later you show up and you're charming and kind and everything you were three years ago, everything that I--then you kiss me and bring me to that lake and we--then San Francisco. You had so many chances to tell me the truth. You didn't.”

 “I should have. I tried to so many times. I tried the night you met my family, tried in the pool, tried the night in the backyard in Boston, I tried, and I did but you were asleep when I said it in San Francisco. Jesus Christ, I tried Vixen.”

 “Not hard enough. What you wanted one more romp in the hay to see if it was like old times?”

Again, Chris walked around the island to you. You backed up to the oversized fridge holding your arms out trying to keep him at bay. He ignored your hands and still approached, closing in. Walking away you were hoping to create distance between you, but he followed you.

 “What's not fair is you keeping this from me. Something that was important that mattered and I know I did the same thing so don’t pull that. 

 “I wanted time to show you how perfect we were for each other, for you to see that maybe things were the way they should have always been. God Vixen I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never felt the things I feel for you, I never thought I could, but I do.”

 The tears were steadily approaching, your breakdown was coming. “You feel nothing it was an illusion; it was the sex.” You attempted to walk away again but Chris’ hand wrapped around your arm pulling you back to him.

 “I've been in love with you from the night I married you. I didn’t know it then; I didn’t know it until I saw you again. When I looked in your eyes and had you in front of me I knew exactly how I felt and seeing you with Ella--our daughter only made me fall more in love with you. You are such an amazing mother, such a kind person with a good heart. You are so damn ambitious and determined. I love that about you, love how genuine you are and how you have an incredible work ethic one that shows the kind of person you are. This was never about sex for me Vixen. It started with Ella, but it didn’t take long for me to realize I didn't just want her, I wanted you. I want to build a life with you and Ella, be by your side as you shatter that glass ceiling you are so damn close to shattering. I want to be your biggest fan and supporter, I want to grow with you, build something others could only dream of. I want to see you every morning, go to sleep beside you after tucking Ella in, I want family vacations, princess dress-up parties, trips to the lake, birthday parties, a family, brothers, and sisters for Ella. I--I want you Vixen. I love you.”

 Everything froze. He’d said the words. You thought you’d wanted to hear these words, thought if only he felt this way things would be so much easier. Now here they were. You thought you’d be happy or feel some sort of excitement but the only thing you felt was fear. You were filled with an abundance of fear, so much fear you couldn’t speak for several long moments. He stood there waiting for you to respond and each second that passed he looked as if he were unraveling.

 “I want to love you, Vix. Let me.” His voice was pleading, as were his eyes, it was like he was begging you. When his lips dropped to yours the only thing your body did was kiss him back with as much passion and desire that he kissed you. He pulled you closer to him and the heat from his body had you pressing against him trying to savor it. A moan escaped you then one came from him. In a matter of seconds, the kiss was quickly getting out of hand. You were getting lost in the moment despite your common sense. You were the one to pull away.

 “Until the day you wake up and want something else or don't want me anymore. The day you've finally gotten me out your system.” Your tears finally won as you expressed your deepest fear concerning him. Pressing your forehead to his chest you accepted defeat and cried allowing your fears and sorrow to seep out of every pore. You’d suppressed this cry because you feared you would never be able to stop.

 Somehow, you found your voice for words. “Chris I barely put myself back together last time. I have no idea how I did it, no idea how my heart healed I--I can't.”

 Somehow you got the words out through your tears. Somehow you were able to speak. You were scared to look at him, but you chanced it and immediately regretted it. Chris looked hurt. There was visible pain on his face and shining through his eyes. That only made you cry more. You put your forehead onto his chest again and breathed him in. When you felt his forehead on the top of your head you sobbed.  

 “Right.”

 “I swear I won’t stand in the way of you getting to be there for Ella. I promise I won’t be that woman. We will work something out that you can see her when you want. I just--.” Unable to finish you walked away toward your bag.

 “So you don’t want me?”

 “Chris--.” The question was blatant. You couldn’t lie about it. You also couldn’t say anything. The terror in you was at its peak and the truth was you were too scared.

 “You don’t feel what I feel?” You could feel him behind you. You wanted to turn to him and stare in his eyes but you knew if you did you couldn’t get through this. You were barely making it now. You reached into your purse and took out the folded papers.

 “Tell me Vixen. There is no way that you feel nothing; no way that all this time we’ve spent together, after everything we’ve done together meant nothing.”

 You try to keep a straight face, one that was arid of emotion that could give any indication just how much you were dying inside. The outward signs of that agony were your tears that continued to roll down your cheeks.

 Taking a deep breath, you pressed the papers to his chest. Debating inside yourself you kept your hand on them—on him. This was yet another time a war was being waged within you, brain, reality, freedom, safety, or heart, dreamland, complication, risk. Maybe you had a lot more of this gypsy spirit your mother spoke about, you thought.

 “I'm not strong enough, or brave enough. This won't end well.”

 After a long hesitation and endless internal debate, you pulled your hand away from his chest just as he gripped the papers. You still didn’t know if you were doing the right thing from your heart or from fear. Unable to look at him anymore you slinked past him and down the hall. You had no idea how you did it so gracefully, especially considering how shaky your legs were.

   -Chris-

 He couldn’t believe his eyes. The force of his realization of seeing this knocked the wind out of his lungs. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, hear his heart pounding so loudly that there was no other sound that he heard. Divorce papers—signed divorce papers. He gripped the side of the island hoping to steady himself. More hurt than he’d ever felt in his life bombarded him. His hyperventilating came on quickly and impacted his other senses, his vision, his breathing, his scent, even his touch. This was his worse nightmare, the worst outcome.

 “It’s over. She doesn’t want me.”

 Acknowledging that out loud felt like ripping his heart out. It had been so long since he’d felt pain like this, it dated as far back as his childhood. Even then did not compare to now. He didn’t know how long he stood there, didn’t know if he could move, or speak for that matter. When he finally did move his limbs felt heavy as if he had fifty pounds of lead in his body. He couldn’t think but he sure felt everything. Digging in his pocket he took out his pen and pressed it to the paper on the island right next to the blank line for him. He wavered for a few moments but shook off the hesitation and signed his name on the line next to yours. Once complete he got the hell out there sparing not even a second to look back. 

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[anerdquemoraaolado]

Through Chrissie’s eyes

Back to work

I've never seen Brian get any more relieved in life than the day he finally got out of hospital. I was agonized to see him sad all these months in the hospital, although I kept him company and our friends came to see him always.

Brian made sure to hold my hand and we left hand in hand from the hospital, thanking on the way who had taken care of him. Part of me was afraid of what we might find out there, maybe what my husband told me that happened in Japan would happen there as well, but at the discretion of John Reid, he didn't let the news of Brian's condition spread, and outside the hospital wasn't a lot of fans waiting for him. I had escaped this time, but I knew I would have to deal with such a situation sooner or later. At the moment, I was glad my husband was well again.

Brian's parents came from Hampton to spend a week with us, as they became very worried when they learned he was sick. The older Mays praised our house and our good taste in choosing it, but Sir Harold didn't seem to be satisfied with the way his son was making his living now as a full-time guitarist. I felt Brian's discomfort and his struggle to respond to his father's opinion with his opposed opinion (he would never do that, Brian always respected Sir Harold very much), but his mother who knew what her son was going through always found a way around the situation .

One of those ways made me as uncomfortable as Brian's father asking him to leave this musician thing, on second thought, it was something that left me and my husband equally uncomfortable.

"But if the ladder has protection, it's because we have a little grandchild on the way, right?" Mrs. Ruth tried to guess "that's why you waited for us to come here, to tell us in person!"

"Mom!" Brian shouted dying of shame, feeling like a little boy again "please, I ... It's nothing like that, it's ..."

He looked at me for help. I was as desperate as he was, too, but if there was anyone I could be honest with it was my in-laws.

"Mrs. May ... " I started, wandered distractedly in my hair, looking for the right words "we just got married and still have not talked about it. Because having kids is a big responsibility, and Brian and I are still learning how to deal with married life ..."

"That's what she said," Brian agreed, since he was surprisingly speechless.

After all that embarrassing conversation and a few more days we said goodbye to Brian's parents and went back to our old routine. I went back to work and he made music, but as always, I kept that distracted way and the lost look when something bothered him.

"I know what your mother said is bothering you ..." I knew that was what worried my husband "I don't know if that's what you think, but ... I don't think I'm ready to be a mother, not now ..."

"Ah neither am I ... " he sighed with relief with the samethought "I mean, I ... I want, someday ... But definitely not now, it's not easy to care for and educate someone to life, to the world, and I think I can still learn a lot more things that will help me to be ... You know ... But you, the boys are sure that you'll get the hang of it."

"I know ..." I managed to laugh, "but being a real mother is different. We're going to decide the right time together, okay, Bri?"

"It's perfect for me ..." he agreed and we kissed, sealing the deal.

That same week, Brian set about finishing the song he had started to create at the hospital. It was great to see him happy back to the action and John, Freddie and Roger were eager for their return as much as Brian was. My husband filled "Now I'm Here" with guitar solos, his memories of the tour in the United States, and how he felt like a new man playing and singing again after so much time stopped.

EMI decided to give the band some time off, letting them wait until next year to work on a new album, but in the meantime, they were still performing in London. In the middle of them, the boys chose a day to play Hyde Park totally for free, a gift for fans in our homeland.

Brian insisted that I went along when Queen would meet Richard Branson, who would produce the show in Hyde Park, and again, I was in doubt, that same feeling of not being important enough to be there with them came back to haunt my head, but then I remembered the decision I had made a while ago, and now that I was officially Mrs. May, I had to work hard to keep that posture. I would be at my husband's side to support him. Plus, it was great being able to hang out with Brian and the boys after all that time in the hospital.

The boys and I were waiting for Mr. Branson at his office desk, until he was available to talk to Queen.

"I hate waiting," Freddie complained, threatening to get up.

"Nobody likes it, but don't make a scandal because of this, okay?" John looked at the singer absentmindedly as he flipped through a magazine.

"I wasn't going to make a scandal." Freddie sat up in his chair "I was just going to ask politely if they had a prediction of when Mr. Branson are going to talk to us ..."

"Uh huh, I'll pretend to believe it." Roger giggled.

So, as if guessing that Queen could make a fuss as hysterical artists (another thing for which they were getting famous), a girl appeared to save us from impatience. She looked serious, since she was in her workplace, but her gaze was patient, and even had a little mischief behind it, I had only seen something like this in Roger.

Roger, by the way, saw her and his mouth fell open. "Oh Jesus, it's going to start all over again ..." I thought, already understanding what was going on in Taylor's head.

"I'm sorry for making you wait" She was calm, and didn't show her excitement about meeting Queen, not because she didn't like them, I thought, but because she was accustomed to dealing with artists "I'm Dominique Beyrand, Mr. Branson's assistant, he asked to call you."

Dominique shook hands with everyone, and when Roger's turn came, he still had his mouth open. She gave him an unsightly smile and disentangled herself from him, gesturing for the band to follow her.

Before Roger got up, I touched his chin and pushed it up slightly.

"What is it, Chrissie?" He looked at me a little confused.

"If I knew you were going to be drooling like that, I was going to bring a bib for my baby son" I teased, it was funny to see him silly like that.

"Leave me alone, Chrissie!" He grimaced, outraged at my audacity.

"Hurry up, Rog!" Brian called from within.

The drummer snorted and joined his bandmates. I couldn't stop laughing at his reaction to seeing Dominique.

[hekate1308]

Facts & Sweets

At this very moment in the town of Lawrence, Kansas, Fergus Crowley was 45 year, four months, three weeks, two days and 23 minutes old. He was busy chasing down a burglar; not exactly the kind of case he liked the best, but he, like any other creature under the sun, had to pay his bills.

The man had made the mistake to try and escape over the roof; Crowley, agile and quick-thinking, had naturally followed him and would have caught him, if not for the unfortunate and yet inevitable laws of gravity.

Ellsworth Rading was forty-nine years, ten months, three weeks, two hours and forty-seven minutes old and had been burgling houses for most of his adult life. As he was running from the State’s best PI, he contemplated the choices that had brought him here, and decided that once this was over, he would have to rethink his life. Sadly, he wouldn’t be doing any more living after he missed a jump between buildings and fell down fifteen feet, after which his neck got acquainted with the edge of the dumpster standing in the small alleyway.

Crowley knew from the second he jumped that he wouldn’t make it, and that he wouldn’t reach him in time to save him. He only reached the ledge to look down, register the man with the bin who had just entered the alleyway and watch Ellsworth break his neck, wincing as he did so.

There was no doubt that the man was dead.

And then –

Through the force of impact, Ellsworth’s body bounced back from the dumpster and was thrown against the man with the bin.

And suddenly he stood up and started to run against if his neck wasn’t broken.

Crowley stared as the man hastened to follow him and –

Touch him, after which Ellsworth Rading dropped dead again.

The man’s shoulders slumped in relief before he looked up and realized Crowley had been watching the entire thing.

He couldn’t be entirely sure because he was too far away, but he thought he exclaimed “Son of a bitch!”

These were the facts: Dean Winchester was eight years, four months and thirteen hours old. His little brother Sam, four years, one month, eight days and 57 minutes old, had been gifted a puppy for his last birthday, a puppy he called Lancelot after the book Dean always read to him while their parents looked on proudly.

Lancelot the puppy was four months, three days, 2 hours and 11 minutes old, and he wasn’t destined to get older. Sam was taking a nap in the late afternoon, and Dean was reading a Batman comic while their mother was doing the laundry. It really was no one’s fault that Lancelot got away, the door just happened to be unlocked.

Because Dean’s room faced the street, he was the one to hear the accident, and he raced downstairs to find Lancelot dead on the pavement in front of their home.

Thinking only of how sad Sammy would be, he let himself sink down to his knees and reached out a hand to gently touch Lancelot, who sat up as if nothing had happened, barked and ran back into the house.

Dean Winchester wasn’t like the other little boys.

Dean Winchester had just learned that he could bring the dead back to life.

“Let me repeat that” Crowley said carefully. “Your touch brings the dead back to life, and yet you chose to become a pie maker and the owner of a slowly failing bakery.”

“Not so loud, for God’s sake!” Dean hissed. “We’re sitting right in the middle of my restaurant –“

“And it’s empty” he pointed out.

Dean glared at him. “No one asked you to be here ether, you know.”

“Oh, I know, but my chance at collecting the reward for Ellsworth’s arrest is currently lying in the morgue.”

“That’s not my fault! He fell off the roof!”

“Couldn’t you have kept him alive long enough for me to collect my fee?”

This was the moment where Dean should probably have lied, should have told the irritating yet handsome PI that it had been a reflex to touch the burglar again.

Instead, he told him the truth.

“If I had allowed him to live for longer than a minute, someone in close vicinity to him would have died. And that includes the possibility of you passing on, so –“

“I see” Crowley interrupted him. “So you can bring back the dead back to life for one minute or you kill someone else. You must be real fun at parties.”

Dean stiffened. “I don’t go to parties.”

“Or anywhere else, really” a cheerful voice interrupted them. “Or talk to anyone voluntarily, ever. So who are you, mister, and do I have to threaten you not to –“

“Charlie” he said tiredly to the red-haired waitress who had apparently shown up out of nowhere, “This is Crowley.”

The man had steadfastly refused to tell Dean his first name. Not that it mattered. The sooner he got him out of here, the better.

“Hi, I’m Charlie!” she grinned.

He nodded.

“Since you are here, and you’re obviously a friend of Dean’s, you have to try our pecan pie!”

With these words she all but bounced to the back, despite Crowley’s protest that he didn’t care much for sweets.

“Does she knows?” he asked as soon as she was out of earshot.

Dean shook his head. “No, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Don’t worry, I am not going to tell anyone I met a pie maker who happens to be Jesus.”

“I am not Jesus. Jesus had control over who he brought back.”

“So do you, you can choose who to touch –“

“Yes, and I choose not to touch anyone” Dean replied firmly.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“If someone has such strong principles, there’s normally a story behind it.”

“Which you will never hear.”

“I never said I wanted to, but it is certainly good to know there is one.”

Dean didn’t meet his eyes.

The story the Pie Maker didn’t want to tell and the PI believe he didn’t want to hear began two years, seven months, nine days and five hours after Dean had brought Lancelot back to live.

The puppy had grown and been in the best health since, even though Dean had noticed he never came to close to him anymore. But he was Sam’s dog anyway; there was no reason for Dean to touch him.

Mary Winchester had been grocery shopping, and had brought home a pie for her eldest son. But at the moment she unpacked it, an aneurism in her head burst, killing her instantly.

It was Dean who found his mother ten minutes later.

Some part of him knew that the dead were not supposed to come back to life. But what were he and Sammy and Dad supposed to do without Mom? And Lancelot was doing okay.

He reached out and touched her.

Her eyes blinked open and she sat up. “Oh, did I slip?” She smiled at him. “Who wants some pie?”

And so he sat down to have a cherry pie he wouldn’t eat.

Because in this moment, his father arrived home. Dean, as always, jumped up and rushed to greet him.

John Winchester smiled at his son for what would be the last time, opened his arms – and dropped dead to the floor.

Unknowingly, he had traded his mother’s life for his father’s.

He didn’t get to revive him because the tragic circumstances prevented him from doing so. His mother suddenly came running, tried to get to her husband – and brushed Dean on the way to him.

She died instantly, and despite Dean touching her, stayed dead.

And he knew that this would happen to Dad as well; and that, should he try and save him, someone else would have to die, and the only one in the house was Sammy.

He couldn’t harm Sammy.

So he called 911. His parents had taught him that.

Later that night, their Uncle Bobby came from Sioux Falls to take them away and look after them as best as he could.

Bobby believed that Dean’s withdrawn and taciturn demeanour in the weeks that followed was the natural reaction of a little boy who’d lost both his parents to undiagnosed heart conditions on the same day.

In truth, Dean was contemplating the gift – or, as he was inclined to think, the curse – that had been bestowed on him.

He couldn’t risk bringing anyone else back to live, only for someone else to die, and then for the first person to perish again when they touched him.

He needed to know the rules.

After a few experiments with houseflies, he figured it out: he couldn’t allow anything dead to return for more than a minute if he wanted to avoid the consequences.

The newly orphaned Dean swore to himself that he would never touch a dead thing again, and that he’d never grow too close to anyone unless he’d be tempted to break that solemn oath.

As the years went out, even his brother, after being constantly rebuffed, stopped trying to get close to him; the only one who ever did think he must have his reasons and should be treated with consideration turned out Charlie Bradbury, who he met in High School because she would introduce herself to the quiet boy who so often were Batman t-shirts. And even her he kept at a distance.

And so he became the lonely Pie Maker, owner of Pie Hole, until twenty-one years later, when a dead man fell from the roof.

“What I don’t understand” Crowley began, only to be interrupted by Charlie. “Here’s your pie! Enjoy!” She wandered off and he realized he would actually have to try.

He did.

It was... eatable for something sweet, and that was the highest compliment Crowley had ever bestowed on a pie.  

“And?”

“It is not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten” he told Dean. “But really, I told you, I don’t like sweets. Do you –“

“Can’t. The ingredients would rot.”

He understood. “One way to save money, I guess. I still don’t understand why this place is failing, however.”

“If customers fail to –“

“Not what I meant. Like it or not, you have a gift. You might as well put it to good use. I am sure people would pay for the opportunity to say goodbye, even only for a minute –“

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Your loss then. But I do have to point out that quite often, if someone meets a violent end, their loved ones are willing to promise a reward to anyone who can catch the killer.”

“So?” Dean asked, only to realize he had made a mistake when Crowley grinned devilishly.

“So you can help me with that. It’s much easier to solve a murder if you can ask the murdered person who did it.”

“I said no –“

“Oh yes, dear reporters, there IS a man who can bring the dead to live –“

“No one would believe you.”

“Really? There are a lot of crazy people around.”

Dean stared at him. “Are you blackmailing me? You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, I am always serious when it comes to money. And I will even be generous – we’ll share half and half.”

Dean didn’t have any choice. “Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Oh, it’s quite enough for me that you’re at my back and call because you have to be.”

Crowley grinned again in that unsettling way of his.

That night at his apartment, Dean tried to watch TV, but he was still seething. How dare that guy just show up out of the blue, learn his secret and get away with it? It seem utterly unfair to him.

And, perhaps, in a corner of his mind, he considered it no less unfair that the PI was actually rather attractive when he smiled, even thought it looked devious as well.

Crowley, meanwhile, sitting in his office across town, had no such misgivings.

He also didn’t deny to himself that the Pie Maker was very handsome indeed.

The facts were these: Steven Shoemaker was forty-nine years, ten months, seven hours and 24 minutes old when he had the misfortune to drop dead in his own bathroom, his eyeballs all but exploding.

Mr. Shoemaker left three ex-wives and ten children, so naturally there were disagreements regarding the inheritance.

There was, however, one person in the world who hadn’t cared for his money; and this person was his secretary, who’d been a close friend of his for over twenty years.

Not only grieving for her best friend, but also enraged at one of the comments of the ex-wives suggesting that her and the dead man’s relationship had been more intimate than it actually was, she decided to act by offering a reward.

And where money was, there was a good chance Fergus Crowley, P.I., wasn’t far away.

“Dude” Dean said slowly, closing his eyes, “His face.”

“What about it?” Crowley asked carelessly.

“His eyeballs all but melted” he hissed.

“And?”

“And!? I can barely stand to look at him and you want me to bring him back to life?”

“Oh, is this CNN?” Crowley said, holding his hand up to his ear and mimicking a phone call, “Just imagine what I found –“

“Yeah, yeah, I got it” Dean pressed out through gritted teeth, “But if he starts coughing blood it’s not my fault.”

“Duly noted. Now, if you’d be so kind...”

Dean activated the alarm on his cell phone, set for one minute, and touched Mr. Shoemaker’s hand.

He sat up. “I can’t see!”

“It takes a while to get used to the surroundings after you pass on” Crowley said smoothly. “Don’t worry.”

“Dead? I’m – oh, of course. She poisoned me. Put it in my Diet Coke, never could resist that stuff. Am I going to Heaven?”

“Yes” Dean said quickly, watching the seconds tick by. “Who poisoned you?”

“My ex-wife, of course –“

In this moment, the door opened and Dean quickly touched Mr. Shoemaker, returning him to the state he’d been in.

It was the coroner. “You got everything you need?”

Dean nodded, although that was a lie.

“That was absolutely useless” Crowley commented as they strolled out of the morgue.

“Not completely” Dean argued, “We know that one of his ex-wives killed him.”

“Exactly. There are three of them, and they were always the main suspects. So he told us nothing.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let the doctor see the dead man sitting up and talking to us?”

“You did what you had to do” Crowley acquiesced, surprising him. “But now we have to do this the hard way.”

“It’s your job, and... wait, we?”

“Of course we. You agreed to take on the case, remember?”

“I agreed to touch the corpse!”

An old lady walking by shot him a scandalized look and Dean lowered his voice. “You wanted to talk to him, we did.”

“Need I remind you that –“

“Yeah, yeah, you own me” Dean spat. “I get it.”

“I wouldn’t imply ownership. More... forced company.”

“If you say so. Let’s get this over with.”

Sadly, grieving widows, or would-have-been-if-still-married-widows, are not prone to let people who suspect them of murder into the crime scene.

Sometimes, as Crowley would have said if Dean would have given him the opportunity, you have to improvise.

“Did I mention I don’t like heights?”

“Is there anything you like aside from pies?”

“Let me rephrase that. I don’t like heights I can fall down from. And this definitely counts.”

“Whatever you say, now hurry, I want to search his office while it’s still night!”

Dean grunted and forced himself to climb up the last few branches to the window, Crowley at his heels. He managed to open it and pull himself into the office, sinking to the floor and gasping.

“Don’t be like that” Crowley said, jumping in as if they hadn’t just escaped certain death. “You looked pretty confident. A regular squirrel.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with. What are we looking for anyway?”

“Anything that proves he was at odds with one of his e-wives.”

“Didn’t he have to be in order for them to become his ex-wives in the first place?”

“That may be the case, but in my experience there tends to be an immediate stressor for murder.”

Dean shook his head. “Man, your life must be cheerful.”

“Says the baker with the life-returning touch.”

Dean grumbled something unintelligible but continued to search the room.

Eventually, Crowley found a concealed button on the desk and pressed it; almost immediately part of its surface slid back, revealing a hidden compartment. “Hah.”

“How did you know that was there?”

“I have been in this business for a while” he replied simply as he reached into the secret drawer and took out an envelope. “Now, what do we have here –“

“Are you supposed to open that?”

“Otherwise I wouldn’t know what was in it.” Crowley opened the envelope and read its contents.

“Well?” Dean finally asked when he didn’t say anything.

“I thought you didn’t want to know, your principles and all that...”

Dean reached for the letter. Crowley gave it to him.

“A will?”

“And” Crowley pointed out, “Frome a later date than any of the others. Only a day before his death, in fact.”

“The secretary gets everything?”

“With some provisions for the kids, of course” Crowley drawled. “I assume he want2ed to leave them well taken care of.”

“Small wonder you only talk about this theoretically” Dean muttered.

But the Pie Maker didn’t know that the PI’s knowledge regarding children was, in fact, far from theoretical.

Much to his astonishment, he found himself tempted to talk about himself to a near stranger for the first time, to tell him his secrets, to let him know the man beneath the Armani-clad facade.

He stomped the impulse.

“Crowley?”

“Just thinking” he said quickly. “We definitely have a motive there.”

“I’d say so. All those millions running through their fingers... But who even knew this will existed?”

“Excellent question. We’ll make a detective out of you yet.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass” Dean said, taking a calendar from the desk and leafing through it. “Hey, wasn’t ex-wife number 2 called Katerina?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because there is a meeting with “K” here the day before he died. If he mentioned something...”

Katerina née Tassel was thirty-nine years, two months, ten days and six hours old when she was arrested for murder, still feeling getting her husband’s money was her right since she’d “lived with him for ten miserable years.”

Sarah Forde went on to inherit the money and found a charity for the homeless – after she’d paid Crowley quite handsomely.

“Admit it” Crowley announced a few days later at the Pie Hole, having just stepped in to tell Dean everything had worked out perfectly, “You liked it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Come on, you got to solve a murder case, bring justice to the victim –“

“As if you care about that” Dean replied. “You only want your money.”

“Yes, but I don’t mind if justice is done while I get it.”

Dean snorted.

“So you got her?” Charlie asked excitedly. She’d loved to hear that Dean was “out there” making friends, although he could hardly tell her that aside from Crowley, the one he’d talked to the most had even the dead guy he’d brought back to life.

“That we did, Miss Bradbury.”

“Excellent, I’ll get you a pie!”

It seemed that Charlie had decided that she would get Crowley to like sweets eventually, for all of his protests didn’t help; she brought him a piece of apple pie.

“Charlie” Dean said, pulling her into the kitchen, “You can’t keep giving out free samples if we are to make any profit –“

“It’s just one piece of pie” Charlie said, “Plus you can’t lie to me, Mister. I have seen your face when you think he can’t see you. You like him.”

He blushed scarlet. “Do not!”

But, try as he might, the Pie Maker couldn’t deny that the PI could be funny and charming when he wanted to be – although he also happened to be quite selfish and greedy.

Little did he know that while he was pondering this, Crowley was eating the pie and admitting reluctantly to himself that for some reason, he suddenly found he might get used to the taste eventually  and was growing rather fond of the Pie Hole as a whole, as well.

Their arrangement continued. Whenever there was news of a strange murder, Dean brazed himself for Crowley calling him, and he usually delivered. Soon enough, they’d developed a routine. Dean would usually be baking, or home alone, or hanging out with Charlie, who’d become more and more insistent that he “should have a life outside of the Pie Hole” when Crowley called him, and they’d meet up at the morgue. He never quite figured out why the coroner let them in at all times but suspected Crowley had something on him.

They’d take a minute – literally – to talk to the corpse, who usually but not always provided the direct resolution to their problem, and then Dean would leave Crowley to find the evidence he needed.

A few days later, he’d get the money and ask no questions.

He didn’t exactly feel clean doing all of this, but the Pie Hole was finally making profit – not due to his pies, but still – and he told himself that this curse he had been born with at least brought some good into this world.

And then there were the other cases, cases where it wasn’t so easy, and somehow, he found himself sticking around for them. After all, Charlie could hold down the fort, and he figured if Crowley ran into danger because of the information he’d provided, it was sort of his fault.

At least that was what he made himself believe.

But it wasn’t the truth. The truth was, as it often is, more complicated, stranger and a bit madder than that.

In truth he was slowly starting to enjoy working with Crowley a great deal.

Even if there were a few setbacks.

“I can’t believe we’re digging up an old corpse” he complained, “You do realize that his tongue will probably have fallen off by now, right?”

“Shut up and keep digging, Squirrel”. The nickname had stuck despite Dean’s many attempts to make him stop calling him that.

Dean’s shovel – he couldn’t quite recall the reasoning that had led to him being the one to do the actual digging – hit the coffin and they opened it to find Mr. Van Hutten’s actually rather well-preserved corpse. Thank God.

“Ask him where he hid the family jewels so we can get out of here and I can demand my payment.”

“It’s our payment, and when I think about it, I should be the only one to get paid since I do all the work.”

“You’d never do it if I hadn’t persuaded you to.”

“Persuaded” Dean mussed. “Yeah, right.”

He still reached out to touch Mr. Van Hutten’s hand.

And then things almost went awry. Mr. Van Hutten was so upset about his relations’ greediness that he started moving around in his coffin too much as he explained where he had hidden the family treasure, and the lid fell down and got stuck.

Dean cursed. “Quick, Crowley, help me to –“

He turned around and saw that Crowley had taken off. Of freaking course.

He managed to pry open the lid and touch Mr. Van Hutten again just in time.

Crowley was waiting in his car in front of the cemetery. Dean got in, fuming.

“Did you get the –“

“Yes, I did! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to die.”

“So you just left me there?”

“It seems logical to assume that you won’t be stricken down dead since these are your powers, so –“

“It could have been anyone else! You could have helped me!”

“I knew you would manage.”

“Knew I would – forget it; I’m walking myself home.”

Dean got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. What a jerk.

The next day, counting his money in his office, Crowley couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t feel as enjoyable as it usually did. After pondering the problem for a few moments, he realized that he felt something he hadn’t felt in quite some time – guilt for having left Dean at the cemetery when the time was running out, and that he had just allowed him to walk away into the cold night.

Really, it was rather disconcerting for him to realize how often his thoughts came straight back to the Pie Maker, even when there was no case he could call him in on.

It almost felt as if he – cared about Dean, and not just because he was useful.

What a strange feeling.

And yet he couldn’t help it. He decided he would do one good thing for Dean Winchester, to make him and Crowley himself feel better and get this... surge of humanity out of his system once and for all.

The problem with his solution to his other problem, Crowley reflected a few weeks later, was that it was damn difficult to get to know Dean well enough to learn what sort of things he liked. He only ever talked about their cases when they saw each other (and he mostly complained then). He barely mentioned his past or any personal details at all (not that Crowley was the poster child for that).

Still...

And for some reason it felt wrong to investigate Dean like he had so many others over the years.

But gossiping with Charlie... that could hardly be called investigating, now?

Plus she was bound to come over with a pie every time he entered Dean’s place.

She did exactly that the next time there was a corpse, and Dean hadn’t yet forgiven him, it seemed, since he let him wait.

“You do know this won’t ever change a thing, right?”

“And yet here I am, and I keep trying.”

“Like with Dean, when he doesn’t want to leave his kitchen?”

“Exactly” she said, her eyes sparkling. As he had expected, she sat down across from him, eager to make conversation since he allowed it for once. “Dean’s still young, just thirty-one, he should have fun now and then.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t?”

“When he’s with you, sure” she said, surprising him. He was rather certain that Dean had never really enjoyed their excursions.

And definitely not the last one, he thought ruefully.

“But other than that...” she continued. “I never got why he moved away from Sioux Falls so quickly after school. Can you believe he hasn’t visited his little brother and his uncle once since he graduated?”

“He has a brother?”

She nodded. “He talks about him a lot – only with me, of course, but he has no one else, really, and I already knew about Sam. He’s a lawyer now, but they don’t talk.”

“Why?” In truth, Crowley didn’t have to ask; it was easy enough to guess; Dean was terrified of what he might do if something happened to someone he was close to; and so he had distanced himself from 2everyone in his life.

Dean must be rather lonely, he thought.

But then, Dean probably didn’t know what Crowley knew.

Because he knew that, when push came to shove, Dean would do the right thing.

Dean Winchester was a good man – so good as to be even called righteous – and he would never purchase the life of a loved one with that of another. He was not capable of making such a decision, not when it had the potential to hurt others.

He wondered if Dean was ever tempted to reach out to his family. Probably.

Now how to get him to mention it so they could talk...

Dean Winchester didn’t quite know what to feel when he came out of the kitchen to find Crowley and Charlie conversing. Charlie Bradbury was the only friend he’d made in his lonely life, and that simply because she’d refused to let him go when he tried to; she also happened to know quite a few of his secrets, although she was naturally ignorant of the greatest of them all.

And Crowley...

Crowley knew he could bring the dead back to life, but nothing else about him, so between the two of them, he and Charlie knew Dean inside out.

Problem was that Charlie liked to talk, and talk about him too.

And he wasn’t quite sure he wanted Crowley to learn details about his life.

But some things, as the Pie Maker had learned at a very early age, can’t be helped.

“Crowley” he greeted him tiredly, sitting down next to him.

“Hello, Squirrel.”

He expected to be taunted about having run off the other night, but Crowley said nothing.

He narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“A case, of course. What did you think?”

Dean looked at Charlie. She raised her hands. “I know, I know. I’m gonna go do my job.”

“So what are the facts?” Dean asked as soon as she’d gotten up.

The facts were these.

Tommy Collins, twenty-one years, eleven months, thirteen days and ten hours old, self-sufficient caretaker of his family, had been found dead at his place of work, a construction site, in the middle of the night when he had no reason to be there.

The fact that the murder weapon – a hammer – found next to his body didn’t come from the scene of the crime, but was the hammer kept in the Collins family home, led suspicion to fall on Hailey Collins, Tommy’s sister, twenty years, two weeks and ten minutes old.

Their little brother Ben Collins, eighteen years, four months, fourteen weeks and twenty hours old, didn’t have the money to offer a reward, but the people in their neighbourhood, fond of the whole family, had collected money.

Which had naturally caught a certain PI’s eyes.

Hailey Collins looked pale but determined when they went to see her in custody.

“I would never hurt Tommy” she assured them. “Our parents died when we were young; we’re all we have.”

Crowley saw Dean swallow out of the corner of his eyes and noted that this might be what he needed to bring up his brother later; but for now, they had to work on the case. 

“Ugh” Dean exclaimed in the morgue when he pulled the sheet back, “I was hoping for a bit more... skull. Not sure if he’ll even be able to talk.”

“We can only try.”

“Of course you would say that” he mumbled, but he still touched Tommy’s hand.

He said up and started talking immediately. “Are Hailey and Ben alright?”

“She’s going to be charged with your murder unless you tell us who did it.”

Even with his face smashed in, he looked shocked. “Hailey? She would never do something like this! We’re all we –“

“Yeah, we heard that already. So who did you in?”

“Is he always like that?” Tommy asked Dean.

“Unfortunately yes.”

He hummed. “It was my boss. Found out he was stealing stuff from the site, as a way to make more money. Wanted to get proof before i went over his head. Didn’t work out to well.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll see that justice is done” Dean said.

“Thank you. Hey, before I have to go, can I ask you to tell Hailey and Ben that I know they’ll be fine and do amazing things?”

Dean’s throat felt tight, and he nodded before touching him gently.

The boss broke down immediately when they confronted him with what they called their “suspicion.”

“Didn’t have enough blood in him for true villainy” Crowley remarked as they watched him being led away by the police.

Dean didn’t really listen. “We should tell his siblings. Or something like it, anyway.”

“You mean the thing about them doing their best?” Crowley asked, looking bored.

“Yes! It’s their brother’s last message!”

Crowley shrugged. “I couldn’t get away from my half-brother fast enough. We’re not in contact anymore.”

Dean turned to look at him, but he wasn’t really seeing him; no, he was seeing a small boy with a big smile and a book in his hands, “Dean, will you read to me?”

“Haven’t talked to Sammy in ages” he replied roughly.

“Who’s Sammy?”

He snapped out of it, but the damage was done.

“My brother” he said curtly, but sadly, that didn’t seem to deter Crowley.

“You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“There was no reason to. As I said, we haven’t talked in ages.”

“So you were never that close?”

When he was silent, Crowley sighed. “Come on. Can’t eb that bad.”

“It is” he snapped. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Well, that hadn’t gone well.

But at least Crowley had got an answer. Now he knew that yes, Dean definitely had a brother, and there was a history behind it. Had they had a fight? Must have been a bad one, in that case; or maybe they’d never really seen eye to eye... No, he couldn’t imagine that. Not with Dean. Now, him and Oskar, that had been something totally different.

Alright then. He’d laid the ground stock; now he had to slowly extract more information as time went on.

Shouldn’t be too difficult.

But, the PI learned over the course of that spring, it was rather difficult. The Pie Maker, angry at himself for allowing even so much to slip past his lips, was more determined than ever not to talk about his past; and so Crowley was doomed to wait and hope and pounce whenever there was a chance for information. Which meant that he went to the Pie hole at least two times a week, even if there was no case, much to Charlie’s delight, who was still trying to find a pie he liked.

“Everything, please, everything but strawberry again” he was pleading one day.

She huffed. “Strawberries are delicious.”

“That’s your job to say, you’re a waitress.”

Unimpressed, she threatened to stalk off until he casually said, “I think you’re right. Dean misses his brother.”

Her face softened. “I knew it. He used to talk about him all the time when we were kids, and then after graduation he just... disappeared.”

“You found him again, though.”

She looked away. “I might have... there was some trouble, you know. I am quite good with computers and I needed to lay low for a while, and when I came here... I saw the sign, and just went in. It reminded me of Dean. Small wonder, really.”

“And then you made him give you a job?”

“You really think – he offered. He saw I was a bit down on my luck. That’s just who he is.”

Crowley was inclined to agree.

But, Charlie agreeing with him or not, Dean still didn’t give him any information.

Until another case came along.

These were the facts.

Matthew Horner, thirty-eight years, four months and six hours old, was found dead in a local bar – according to the blood tests, he was completely sober at the time of his death.

That wasn’t what attracted Crowley to the case, however – apart from the usual reward, naturally.

No, it was that no one could discern the cause of death.

He had never been able to withstand a good puzzle.

Which might also have explained his fascination with Dean Winchester, Pie Maker and very lonely man.

Dean should have been relieved that the case, despite certain weird details, was an open and shut one, but he couldn’t.

Because it had been Matthew Horner’s brother, chemist, who had poisoned him with a difficult to trace and even more difficult to pronounce substance, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about Sammy.

Maybe it was weird that he’d dealt better about the siblings who actually loved each other than the ones who had hated one another, since he and Sam had been close until he drew away –

No. No that wasn’t strange at all.

Because ever since he had left home, one of his persistent fears had been that Sam had grown to hate him in their years of silence.

Hell, Sam almost didn’t go to his high school graduation, but Bobby insisted on it. Dean hadn’t been supposed to know, but he’d eavesdropped. Accidentally, of course.

“Hey”. A gentle touch on his arm. “Where did you just go, Squirrel?”

He blinked. Crowley sounded... almost worried? “Just thinking, that’s all.”

Crowley looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You need a drink” he decided.

Dean Winchester was sixteen years, eight months, two weeks, four hours and thirty-four minutes old and had just woken up with the worst headache he had ever experienced when he made a very wise decision, given the circumstances that had shaped his life.

He’d be very careful how much he drank in the future.

However, as good a decision as it was, it left him with little to no resistance to hard drinks, especially Craig that had aged for thirty years.

“Dude” Dean said, his eyes widening, ”You have a mansion.”

“And?”

“And what? You have a mansion.”

“I like to have space.”

“He likes – why am I not surprised?” Dean muttered. “Could freaking well feed an army, but stays on his own.”

“You prefer your own company as well.”

“So I don’t make any stupid mistakes and wake the dead, there’s a difference – why are we here anyway, and not in a bar? I was under the impression you’d buy me a drink. Should have known better –“

“Do you really think I don’t have better taste in alcohol?”

That shut Dean up.

Still, the pit bull who came to greet them as soon as Crowley unlocked the door was somewhat of a surprise.

“Did you miss Papa?” Crowley cooed – actually cooed – at her. “This is Dean. Dean, this is Juliet.”

“Hello... Juliet” he said, somewhat lamely, but how else was he supposed to react?

He decided he’d had enough for the day. “Where did you say the alcohol was?”

Crowley would never have guessed that Dean Winchester was the type to get drunk after only two glasses of Craig, but here they were.

Dean giggled. Actually giggled, and normally Crowley would have been disgusted, but instead he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “You know I normally never drink this stuff because I’m afraid I might do something stupid like try to dig up Dad”.

At least that was what Crowley thought he said; his pronunciation wasn’t exactly the clearest anymore. “Your father? Why not your mother?”

“Because I didn’t kill her and anyway, already did that” Dean laughed again and then, without a pause, he started to sob.

Crowley really had no idea what to do.

Thankfully, Dean saved him the trouble of finding out by leaning against him and crying himself to sleep after telling him his life’s story, while the P.I. did his best to try and stay calm.

That night, a drunk and very sad Pie Maker fast asleep in his lap, as he made his tenth attempt to make them both comfortable because he didn’t want Dean to wake up alone, Fergus Crowley made a discovery he’d much rather not have.

Despite years of trying to prove to the world that he didn’t, he still had a heart.

And it beat suspiciously faster ever since Dean had touched him for the first time.

When he woke up, he almost felt like he was sixteen and hung-over in his bedroom at Bobby’s house again.

Mostly because he had never felt that sick quite again.

At least he’d made it home, thought; he was lying in bed, and –

He heard a faint noise of clattering from what must have been the kitchen. He pried his eyes open –

And realized he wasn’t in his bed, but still lying on Crowley’s couch, actually tucked in.

The thought of Crowley doing this for him caused him to – feel – something.

He was too hung over for this.

Hell, Crowley had even left a glass of water and some painkillers on the table in front of him.

Dear God, what had happened last night?

He was dressed at least, so not.. that, Thank God; but everything else was on the table...

Problem was, because he had all but stopped drinking when he was sixteen, he had no idea what kind of drunk he was.

When he entered the kitchen, Crowley was making breakfast, and he frowned.

“Trust me, you’ll want some soon enough.”

“You seem to know more about being hang over than I.”

“The wisdom of experience, my friend.”

“More like the experience of old age.”

Crowley shot him a dirty look. Dean grinned. At least he could annoy the P.I. while he was waiting to feel better.

He was right, too; once he sat down and the pain meds kicked in, the smell of the bacon Crowley was making caused his stomach to remember that food was actually good for him.

They were quiet as they ate; Dean was thankful to Crowley for not –

“So” he said cheerfully, “Want to tell me about how you killed your father when you were ten?”

Dean almost choked on a piece of bacon.

When he was done coughing, he stared at Crowley in horror. “What the –“

“You mentioned it yesterday – as far as I could make out what you were rambling on about. Just so you know, you’re a weepy drunk.”

Dean pushed his plate away, not feeling hungry anymore in the slightest.

“Come on. It was just a question.”

“How – how is that just a question?”

“It is because you were a child, and I know about your powers. You didn’t want to.”

“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you.”

Not that Dean was surprised; he couldn’t remember his drunken ramblings, but Crowley was clever.

“Let’s just say, I assume you were young, you knew you could bring the dead back to live, but you had no idea about the terms and conditions?”

He nodded, and then suddenly, he started talking.

He’d never told anyone; he’d never revealed this one, this terrible secret, had indeed sworn that he never would after he’d tried to explain it to Uncle Bobby and he’d simply ruffled his hair and hugged him, thinking he was just a traumatized kid.

When he was done, he looked away.

As the Pie Maker unburdened himself, Crowley found himself not only listening attentively, but also experiencing another emotion he had no longer considered himself capable of.

He wanted to comfort him.

He was surprised when Crowley gently squeezed his shoulder. “That... cannot have been easy.”

He sounded as astonished at his own compassion as Dean felt. He looked at him. “It wasn’t. Never really touched someone else after that.”

“And your brother?”

“He doesn’t know, of course. “Hey Sammy, it’s me, remember the big brother who more or less abandoned you as soon as he turned eighteen? I also killed our parents. How’s life?””

“You didn’t kill your parents.”

Dean huffed.

“You didn’t kill your parents” he said firmly, still surprised at himself. “Your mother died of natural causes, and you didn’t know your father had to died so she could live on.”

“I could have brought him back.”

“And killed your brother? I don’t think so.”

“Do you have to be so damn logical about it?” Dean argued, but the corners of his lips lifted up slightly. “I am trying to blame myself for everything that’s gone wrong in my life here.”

“And I’m not going to allow it.” After a pause, Crowley added, “Your talent does bring home the money, after all.”

Dean snorted. “Yes, am I glad that I can make sure you can buy more of these needlessly expensive suits.”

“Some of us like to be well-dressed, thank you” Crowley replied.

Hangover and all, Dean felt much better than he had expected to when he left the P.I.’s place that morning.

If only things could go smoothly for a few days...

Things did not go smoothly.

Competition is  fact of life in the business world, and when a new sweets store opened on the opposite side of the street, Dean didn’t think much of it.

Until suddenly, fewer people than before came to eat his pies and he found out through a faithful old client that Dick Roman, owner of Bitter Sweets, had been spreading rumours about his ingredients.

It would have been much worse if he had known the truth – that Dean used formerly rotten fruits brought to life again after a touch in many of his pies – but still.

Crowley had been busy with a fraud case and didn’t know what was going on, and anyway, the Pie Maker decided he could very well deal with that on his own.

Sadly, when he went to confront Dick Roman, he found him dead in his office; he’s just woken him up to question him when the police burst in and he could only touch him again to keep his secret.

Sadly, this meant that he was found with his hands on the corpse of a recently murdered man.

“Run that by me again, Squirrel. You were dumb enough not only to go there alone, but when you found him your first instinct was to bring him back to life? I thought you didn’t like to do that:”

“I thought while I was there I could make myself useful” Dean hissed, “And you know whose fault it is that I’m used to it –“

“I’m not the one in the jail cell, am I”.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Dean asked through gritted teeth. “I have money saved from all our cases, and –“

“Do you really think I’d ask you for money?” Crowley interrupted him, staring at him.

Dean stared right back.

What followed was the most awkward minute of their entire acquaintance, with Crowley suddenly remembering that he was a heartless bastard and clearing his throat. “I meant to say that you are an asset I can’t afford to lose.”

“Yes. Yes of course.”

Crowley said goodbye soon after that.

Unbeknownst to the Pie Maker, the P.I. had a plan.

“Charlie” Crowley said, bursting through the doors of Pie Hole.

“Crowley. How is he?”

“What?”

“I know you went to see Dean. What else would you do? So. How. Is. He.”

“He’s... holding up” he supplied.

Charlie nodded. “I’ll visit him myself later, of course, but still. Now – you have a plan. I can tell from the twinkle in your eye.”

“Dean told me you were good with computers” he replied without beating around the bush. “Illegally good.”

“Traitor” she muttered. “What do you need?”

“Dean is going to need a very good lawyer. Now, I was wondering if his brother’s interest in law had caused him to...”

“What makes you think I would know?”

He shot her an unimpressed look.

“Alright, maybe I did my research. So what?”

“Don’t you think this would be a good opportunity to reunite two estranged brothers and get Dean the legal aid he needs?”

Two days later, Crowley was in Florida.

So this was where the younger Winchester worked. Crowley studied the law firm from across the street. According to his research, they were the up and coming stars of the branch; that certainly told him something about Sam’s ambitions.

It also meant he had to be good at what he did, and Dean needed an excellent lawyer if he was supposed to get out of the scrape he had gotten himself in.

Feeling that he probably wouldn’t like being ambushed in his office, Crowley waited until he went out to lunch.

Hm. Interesting. Apparently he preferred his own company. Well, it just made it easier.

To Crowley’s surprise, Sam Winchester didn’t get lunch, but instead walked to a nearby park where he sat down on a bench.

“Clearing your head, MR. Winchester?” he asked.

Sam jumped up and turned to face him. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Crowley, I’m a P.I. from Lawrence, Kansas.”

Something like comprehension flashed across the younger man’s face before it settled into a blank mask. “And?”

“And your brother is the only suspect in a murder case and needs help” he replied. Better to rip off the band-aid immediately.

“Dean is what?”

“He is –“

“No, I heard you. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“You’re the lawyer” he reminded him.

“And Dean hasn’t talked to me in years. Do you expect me to jump to his rescue?”

Crowley shrugged. “i assumed some kind of brotherly feeling still lingered in your chest. Not my fault if I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.”

He could have spend more time trying to convince him to help, but frankly, he had better things to do. Like getting Dean out of jail himself, if this hot-shot lawyer didn’t want to help.

Still, one last shot –

“I’ll be going” he said, “By the way, did you ever notice something strange about your childhood dog? Lancelot, was it?”

With these words, he left him there.

Or would have.

Because after he’d made a few steps Sam ran after him and grabbed his arm. “How do you know about Lancelot?”

These were the facts.

Sam Winchester was by no means an exceptional boy; he was smart, but he also loved playing with his big brother, both of his parents, and the dog they had gotten him for his birthday very much.

Losing one’s parents at the age of six years, three months, ten weeks, three days and nine minutes was not easy; but Uncle Bobby’s carer and love soon made him Sam smile again, and of course he still had Lancelot.

Who over time became more important than ever because Dean refused to speak to him, even months after they had moved to Sioux Falls.

By the time Dean turned eighteen and left, Sam believed himself to be thoroughly indifferent. He’d lost his big brother the day he’d lost his parents, and he had to live with it.

What he didn’t expect was how much he would miss him, regardless.

And then there was something else.

By the time he himself became eighteen and went on to study pre-law, it had become clear that Lancelot hadn’t aged ever since he had reached adulthood.

“I have my ways” Crowley said simply.

“I –“ Sam swallowed. “But Dean can’t know, Dean moved out –“

“You’d be surprised.”

Sam swallowed again. “Fine. You’re buying me lunch.”

Normally Crowley wouldn’t have been too keen on spending money on anyone but himself, but Sam suddenly seemed a lot more amenable, and he had to try, as long as there was a chance.

He told himself he only cared about Sam being a good enough lawyer to get Dean out, and that he wasn’t thinking about the night a drunken Pie Maker had cried to him about his brother.

“But Dean can’t have told you” Sam argued once they’d found a small restaurant and sat down. “I only noticed myself after he’d left.”

“How old is Lancelot?” Crowley asked carefully.

“Twenty-two; and the last vet I took him to thought he was about five” Sam admitted.

“I assume you no longer take him to the vet.”

“It’s better that way.” Sam hesitated. “Did Dean – no, he was just a kid himself. He can’t have –“

“You’d be surprised what you don’t know about your brother.”

“He’s in jail on his birthday too” Sam mumbled, and it was only then that Crowley learned what day it was.

So Dean had been born in January. Instinctively, he wondered how old he was, exactly – only to tell himself that it was of no importance.

“Did he hire you to prove he’s innocent?” Sam asked. Dean, Crowley thought, would at least take some comfort from knowing that his little brother had automatically assumed he was innocent, no matter how their little chat ended.

“No. We’re... business partners” he said carefully.

Sam frowned. “Last thing I heard, Dean had become a baker.”

“Pie maker” he corrected him automatically. “Yes, but he also helps me out on cases now and then.”

“Is this how he got in trouble?”

“Kind of.”

Sam nodded. “Dean always had a talent to do just that.”

“He has been very... helpful to me” Crowley continued. “And since he wouldn’t be in this predicament if we had never made our deal, I considered it only fair that...”

He trailed off when he saw the look Sam gave him. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just.-.. if you’re more than partners, you can tell me. I’m not a homophobe.”

“We aren’t-. We’re just... friends.”

He had never called anyone his friend in his entire life.

Sam didn’t look convinced, but thankfully he changed the topic. “What exactly do they think Dean did?”

Crowley told him. 

Dean was getting nervous. This had been the second day in a row without a call or a visit from Crowley. Charlie, of course, came to see him daily, but she couldn’t tell him anything about what he was up to, either, and he was getting the impression that he as being left behind since he was no longer useful.

Not that he’d expected anything else. Crowley had only ever been i9n it for his own gain, and Dean had known that. One drunken night of him crying about how his curse had ruined his life before it had even really begun wouldn’t change anything.

It only felt like it had fro Dean.

He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care that Crowley had indeed only been in it for the money, but then...

Crowley might not have been the nicest guy around, but he had been around. They had spent so much time together that Dean would probably have called him a friend if he had to.

It also didn’t help that Charlie was decidedly nervous on this day.

“What’s wrong, Bradbury?” he finally asked.

She bit her lip. “Remember how I am the best friend you ever had and that I’ve always been loyal to you?”

He frowned. “Yes?”

“Good. I want you to remember that for a second longer.”

“Charlie, what the –“

The door opened and the guard showed two more people in. “Fifteen minutes.”

Dean barely heard him.

Because standing next to Crowley was –

“Sammy?”

“Dean” he said neutrally. “I wish I could say it’s good to see you.”

He winced. He deserved that, for what he had done, of course, but still –

He looked at Charlie. “You helped Crowley find him, didn’t you.”

“As a matter of fact, I would have found him on my own, but Miss Bradbury happened to already know where he lives and works” Crowley supplied.

Dean looked at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Of course she had known. Of course she had.

“We’ll talk about this when I’m out of here” he said flatly.

“Alright, first of all, why are you in a cell to begin with?” Sam asked.

So that was it, then. Simply a client-lawyer meeting. And what else could have been expecting, even if he had known Sam was coming? He’d cut him out of his life deliberately to protect them both.

Charlie was frowning at Sam. “That’s all? You see your brother for the first time in years and that is your reaction?”

“Charlie” he said, throwing Crowley a glance.-

He understood immediately.

“Alright, red, let’s get out of here and allow them to talk.”

Charlie understood when arguing was useless.

After the door had closed behind them, Sam asked, “Didn’t you know a Charlie at school? You mentioned her from time to time – when I could get you to talk.”

“That’s her. She found me – ran into my place, really.”

Crowley told me you were a Pie Maker.” After a pause, Sam added, “Would have been nice to be given the option to learn that from yourself, just saying.”

Dean sighed. “Look, Sammy, I can’t give you an explanation. If you can’t live with that, you should leave.”

“But why?” he asked. “Dean, you and Uncle Bobby were all I had, except for Lancelot. And you just... you lived with us, but it was as if you weren’t really there anymore. Why can’t you just tell me –“

“trust me” he said tiredly, “Even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Sam hesitated, then swallowed. “Does it have something to do with Lancelot?”

“Lancelot? Why?”

“Because Crowley mentioned him and... and...” Sam looked around the empty room as if to make extra sure no one was listening. “Dean. I know how this will sound, but I think my dog is immortal.”

“Lancelot’s still alive?” Dean asked, surprised. Weren’t dogs supposed to die when they were about twenty?

“Yes. He just... stopped aging when he stopped growing. When someone asks, I just act as if I called him the same name.”

“Smart.”

HE didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “Dean... do you know something about this? Crowley made it seem like you did. And if you – does it – is there a reason you just walked out on us as if we’d been nothing but your roommates? Bobby still asks if I’ve heard from you occasionally.”

Dean swallowed, his heart beating fast. He couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t let his brother know that he’d killed their parents... and anyway, he couldn’t prove anything, and why should Sam believe him?

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Sam, yes, there is a reason. But it’s pretty incredible, and I can’t prove anything while I’m in here. If I get out and you still want to hear the truth, I will show you. I promise.”

Sam turned his head, suddenly looking like the little boy Dean recalled playing with Lancelot.” You promised we’d always be friends, once” he said quietly.

“And I meant it, then. All of this... happened later. But I will keep this promise.”

Sam looked at him, then gave a short, sharp nod. “Alright. Let’s get you out of here.”

There are no boundaries for what a few clever minds, once they put their heads together, can do; and Sam Winchester was indeed, as Crowley had imagined, an excellent, albeit young, lawyer.

“My brother is innocent” Sam insisted. “The autopsy report says Mr. Roman must have been killed one to two hours before the police found him. Do you really think he stayed near the body of the man he’d murdered for an hour?”

“Maybe your brother was looking for something” the police man insisted.

Crowley sighed and dragged both Charlie and Sam out of the place. When Sam tried to protest, he shook his head. “I know the type. We won’t get him out unless we present the murderer to him on a silver platter.”

“Thank God you’re good at your job” Charlie said.

“I am.”

Still, Crowley thought, someone like Dick Roman was bound to have made a few enemies along the way.

This proved to be true later that day, when they broke into his office, Sam quietly complaining. “Is this what you drag my brother into on a regular basis? Small wonder he’s in jail –“

“Would you stop nagging at me for one second? I’m trying to get him out, for Christ’s sake –“

“Nothing so far in here” Charlie, who had happily agreed to breaking and entering and had immediately hacked into Roman’s computer as soon as they entered the room, reported.

“Good, now let’s see –“

Crowley went through the desk while Sam automatically searched through the files in the drawer.

“I can’t believe it” he breathed two minutes later.

“What is it, Moose?”

He stared at Crowley.

“Squirrel is already in use.”

“Yeah, right... anyway, the guy has a binder labelled “death threats.””

“That’s useful” Charlie said.

“Yes, but don’t you think this is... weird?” Sam asked.

“You clearly haven’t talked to your brother yet” Crowley mumbled as he took the file out of his hands.

“What is that supposed to mean –“

“Let’s see” Crowley said, “We can discount the extremely angry ones – they usually just bark. But the subtle ones...”

“How do you know that?” Sam demanded. “You can’t just –“

“I’ve been in this business for quite a while.”

Sam shook his head, clearly disapproving, but there was nothing he could do but hope that Crowley was right.

They returned to the Pie Hole with the binder tucked firmly under Crowley’s arm.

“This is depressing” Charlie decided half an hour later, “I don’t think anyone liked this guy – this one’s from his own mother.”

“That’s what happens during a family feud” Crowley said pleasantly.- “My own mother wanted to kill me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me I do.”

Sam looked at them, then apparently decided he wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole and just shook his head.

Eventually, he said, “Wait... this one sounds about right.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, taking the letter. “Hm... business-like, so he means it... Okay, that does sound nasty... Oh, and it’s Arthur Ketch! I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“To call Arthur Ketch a asshole of a coyote would be an insult to the baby snatchers.”

Sam blinked. “Alright. I am going to ignore about fifty percent of what you’re saying from now on.”

“My mother always fared well with that technique” he conceded, anticipating the meeting with Ketch already; he always felt like this when he knew he was getting close, and of course this time something was at stake, Dean was at stake. “We need to go see Arthur ketch. Now.”

Charlie was already getting up when Sam said, “Wait. You think this guy has committed murder... and you’re going to accuse him to his face? Did I get that right?”

“Of course, Moose. What else are we supposed to do?”

“You...” Sam sighed. “What did my brother get himself into?”

“Don’t worry, we’re getting him out” Charlie said cheerfully.

Sam didn’t answer, but he still accompanied them. 

Arthur Ketch welcomed them into his office.

Crowley had made a few deals with him over the years – although none since he had met Dean, he realized – and had come to thoroughly dislike the man. He could have lived with his cold and conniving nature – after all, both were insults that were routinely thrown at Crowley himself – but there was something slimy in his attitude, something begging for approval, and that he could not abide.

“Mr Crowley! Long time no see.”

“Indeed” he answered, rolling his eyes; as always, Ketch had made sure his accent sounded even more British than it had to. Compared to him, Crowley himself sounded almost American.

“What can I do for you – and your friends?” he asked, his eyes sliding over Sam and Charlie with equal hunger.

Now, Crowley had never condemned any sexuality – one of the few things he wasn’t was a hypocrite – but he’d never liked the way Ketch looked at people he found attractive.

Thankfully, the disdain between them was mutual.

“Did you hear of Dick Roman’s death?” he asked.

“Oh yes. A tragic loss to the business world” he answered, but his eyes were laughing.

He didn’t think they could prove anything.

“What do you say to this”? Crowley asked, holding out a copy of Ketch’s letter.

He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, I am sure Mr. Roman got a lot of those. It would have been far more suspicious if there hadn’t been one of mine, don’t you think?”

Crowley had to admit he was right, but then he’d always thought Ketch was clever.

“He definitely did it” Charlie decided as soon as they left the building. “Did you see that murderous gleam in his eyes? Haven’t seen that since Khan decided to hurt Kirk by –“

“Are you using –“ Sam began, but Crowley interrupted him.

“Yes, he definitely did it, the problem is we need proof.”

“Do we have to break into the morgue?” Charlie asked, her eyes sparkling.

She was enjoying herself a bit too much, Crowley decided. “No need to break in, I have my methods.”

“Of course you do” Sam muttered, if only to himself.

Soon enough, they were at the morgue.

“He was strangled alright” Crowley said calmly.

Even if Dean hadn’t been disturbed, Roman probably wouldn’t have been able to talk.

“So do you think the killer left DNA?” Charlie asked while Sam just eyed the corpse.

“He was definitely strangled with some kind of cord, so good luck with that”.

“There has to be something... what about his personal effects?”

Charlie was remarkably efficient, Crowley reflected as she went through everything that had been found on the body (once again, it hadn’t been difficult to get there, thanks to his contacts within law enforcement). They should bring her along more often.

“I knew it! Someone like this guy wouldn’t walk around without protecting himself – or rather, without making sure he got proof of people threatening him” Charlie announced with a flourish as he held up –

“His tie?” Sam asked. “What –“

“A small recording device sown in, I presume?” Crowley asked calmly, even though he was angry at himself that he hadn’t been the one to find it.

He’d been too worried about Dean.

He should probably spend some time alone after this, he decided. The Pie Maker was taking up way too much of his thoughts, these past few weeks.

That same evening, the doors of the jail opened for the Pie Maker as they closed behind Mr. Ketch for good.

But he couldn’t feel quite as happy about that as he should have been.

Because he knew his brother would ask him a question, and that he would have to give the dreaded answer this time.

Charlie had immediately drawn him into an enthusiastic hug. Dean’s eyes met Crowley’s as she was still trying to squeeze all the jail air out of his lungs, and they nodded at one another.

After she’d let go, he turned to his brother, who seemed conflicted whether to hug him as well.

He’d clear that up, at least.

“It’s time to keep my promise, isn’t it” Dean sighed, sure that Sam would run for the hills – if not because of his powers, then because of what he’d only ever told Crowley – that their parents’ deaths were his fault.

But still –

It was only fair Sam should get to hear the story from Dean.

And then there was someone else –

He turned to Charlie.

She’d been his friend long enough; if he was being honest, she had grounded him, given him a reason to get up in the morning, always cheerful, always friendly, even on the darkest of days.

“Charlie... I think you’ll want to hear this too.”

“Here” Crowley said dramatically as he put two cages on the table, one containing a dead rat, and one another who was very much alive.

“Dude, that’s my kitchen – wait did you –“

“Relax, Juliet caught them. She was a bit overenthusiastic –“

“Juliet?” Sam asked.

“His dog” Dean answered. “She and Lancelot would get along great, I bet.”

Sam looked sceptical.

“So what are you trying to prove here?” Charlie asked. “I fully expected you to blow a fuse, but seriously – only one comment? What are the rats –“

“Because this makes it easy” Dean sighed. “Thanks, Crowley. Although I could have done with insects or something –“

“Juliet is rather big for her breed, how is she supposed to –“

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Let’s get this over with.”

Dean sat down and looked at the cages. This was it. In a minute, he’d either have lost his brother and his best friend in one swoop, or...

Or...

He had no idea.

He almost jumped when Crowley squeezed his shoulder – in support, as he realized, feeling Sam’s eyes on them.

He cleared his throat. “Sammy, I promised you I’d tell you the truth and here I am. Would you please make sure the rat is truly dead?”

“What is this, some crazy magic trick`?” he asked.

“Please, Sam. It’s important.”

With obvious confusion, Sam made certain that the animal was dead. Juliet had done a thorough job.

“Now what –“

Dean reached through the bars and touched the rat.

IT jumped up immediately.

Sam sprang up too, his eyes wide. “What...”

“Please, wait a minute” Dean begged, “Just a minute”.

Since he was telling Sam the truth, he was determined to tell him the whole truth.

He didn’t look at him, instead he watched the seconds tick by on his cell phone.

A minute passed.

He didn’t have to see it to know the other rat had just died.

When he raised his head, Sam was staring at the two cages, his mouth hanging open. “But... how...”

“This is what I did to Lancelot” Dean explained, suddenly feeling very tired. “I was a child, and I didn’t know. I suppose an animal from around our neighbourhood died.”

Sam was still staring at the rats. “But then... Lancelot already died once” he said slowly, “And you brought him back.”

“Yes. There are only two rules: I touch something I brought back, it dies again and forever this time; and if that something stays alive for more than a minute, well...” he gestured towards the now-dead rat before finally meeting Sam’s eyes again.

And what he saw in them was a suspicion, almost knowledge –

“When – when Mom and Dad – did you?” He couldn’t finish the question.

Dean laughed, sharp and bitter; Crowley’s hand came to rest at the small of his back and he barely even noticed. “Yes. Yes I did. Why do you think they both died on the same day? Mom just – collapsed and I didn’t know. I didn’t know what would happen. Dad came back at that moment, and – she touched me when she tried to get to him...”

He stopped talking. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had said made any sense, but his brother seemed to have understood.

Sam looked at him.

Then, without a word, he got up and left.

Only when a drop landed on his hand did Dean realize he’d started to cry.

How freaking embarrassing, that was the second time he bawled in front of Crowley, plus his best friend –

Charlie had yet to say anything. He wondered if she’d leave to, closing his eyes.

He heard her indeed get up, but the next moment, she gathered him in her arms. “It wasn’t your fault” she muttered into his hair, “You were just a kid. Like you said. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean heard Crowley mumble something about “Taking care of those” and understood he was carrying the rats away.

“He’s never going to forgive me, is he” he mumbled into Charlie’s shoulder.

He thought Crowley had already left, but from the direction of the door he still heard his reply, “It would be his loss if he didn’t.”

Dean didn’t know how long he cried for, but when he was done, he drew back and sniffled. “Sorry, Charlie. I’ll pay for the shirt.”

“Don’t be overdramatic, it’s nothing. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded. At least his secret was out, now. At least that burden was gone.

“You know” she grinned, “It’s actually kind of cool to have a boss with superpowers.”

“Not that cool to have them” he answered simply.

She immediately grew serious again. “Of course. Is that why you don’t like touching people?”

“Yes. If I get used – if I get too attached – God knows what I might do:”

“You’d do the right thing. You always do.”

He snorted. “Pretty sure my parents would disagree.”

2Dean, look at me. You were a child, and you didn’t know. This isn’t your fault.”

“But what if – “

“No what ifs. You were a kid, you were scared, and you didn’t know what to do. I am certain Sam will see it that way eventually.”

“Or not and he’s calling CNN right now to talk about his brother’s magical touch.”

“He won’t do that, Dean. Trust me-“

“I am trying my best” he promised.

At least when they came to drag him into the spotlight he’d have his best friend by his side.

“I’m sorry” Dean finally said after he had calmed down. “I didn’t mean to –“

“Hey, it’s alright. We all need a shoulder to cry on sometimes... Although I’m not sure Crowley didn’t want to be that particular shoulder today.”

“He’s probably glad you provided him with an out” he said.

“Oh, hush. Don’t think I haven’t see the eye sex.”

Dean shook his head. “What if Sam never comes back?”

“Then I agree with Crowley. It would be his loss.”

“How are you not freaking out about this?” he asked. “I just proved to you that I can bring the dead back to live, my brother ran away, and yet you’re still here –“

“Dean, I’ve spent my whole life playing D&D and wishing magic was real. I won’t freak out because I learn it is.”

“That’s... actually pretty good” Deans aid carefully. He wasn’t used to good things happening to him.

“Exactly, good things do happen. Sam will return, you just have to give him time.”

He wanted to believe her, but he still wasn’t quite sure he could.

Fergus Crowley knew that it had been the right thing to leave Charlie and Dean alone. She had known him far longer than Crowley, and she would know how to calm him down.

After all, the one time Dean cried in front of him, he’d been drunk.

Still, what worried him far more was that feeling that had once more settled in his gut.

He wanted to be the one to comfort the Pie Maker, to make him feel better.

He was not used to such emotions, and he didn’t want to get used to them.

The problem was that he suspected he would have to, if he and Dean Winchester continued their... association.

Charlie had finally left him alone at his own insistence. Dean had wanted to be alone with his thoughts, only for a while.

As he watched darkness descend over the city through his living room window, he thought of Sam. Was he safe? Had he found a hotel? If not, where was he staying?

All his old sense of protection had returned the second he’d set eyes on Sam, but what could he do? He’d probably never see him again. If only he hadn’t demanded answers...

For a second, he was almost angry at Crowley for bringing his brother into this. But he’d only wanted his best. In the end, it wasn’t his fault.

No, it was Dean’s fault. Dean’s and his powers.

Quite strangely, he found himself wishing Crowley was here. True, he’d looked after him when he was drunk, but that didn’t mean Dean enjoyed his company.

At least that was what he was busy telling himself when there was a knock on the door.

Theoretically, the P.I. knew there was very little he could do about the situation with Dean’s brother, and that he shouldn’t interfere.

And yet he found himself in front of his door, wondering what he was doing. He’d never really felt the need to comfort or be there for anyone, so why now? Why him?

He had not yet found the answers to these questions when the Pie Maker opened the door.

“Crowley?”

“Squirrel. I was nearby and thought I’d check how the family reunion is going...”

It was the wrong thing to say, he could read it in Dean’s face.

“Wonderful. When even you are feeling sorry for me –“

“I’m not feeling sorry for you. I assure you I got rid of such emotions a long time ago.”

At least Dean laughed at that. “Might as well come in. I’ve been experimenting on a few new flavours; you can tell me if you like them.”

He frowned. “Pie, I assume.”

“Yes, pie, Mr. Not Sweet Tooth. Come on.”

Although the P.I. would never have admitted it, at this point he would have done anything to make the Pie Maker feel better; and so he decided to taste the sweets he normally would have scorned.

After three pies, it became clear that Crowley wouldn’t be as easily won over as Charlie had always assumed he would.

Dean still didn’t give up. It gave him something else to think about than Sammy out there.

“And this” he announced with a flourish, “Is a peach pie. You’ll love it.”

“That’s what you said about the other three” Crowley complained.

“Never give up, that’s what I say. There’s the right sort of pie out there for everyone if one just knows how to make them right. Now, come on; try the peach pie.”

Crowley sighed but did as he was told.

And then, on this day, in the kitchen of the man who baked pies and woke the dead, a miracle occurred.

Fergus Crowley found that he liked it.

“There it is” Dean said with satisfaction.

“i haven’t said anything.”

“Do you really think an old pie professional like me doesn’t know immediately?”

He had to concede the point. “It is good.”

“Charlie will be angry that she wasn’t here, Peaches.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It was the peaches who made the miracle happen, wasn’t it?”

Crowley grumbled a bit about it, but there was nothing he could do now that he had admitted the impossible was indeed possible.

Crowley knew that he was probably outstaying his welcome, but Dean seemed to feel better and better as time went on and for some reason he still couldn’t name that made him feel good, in turn.

They were currently watching some awful medical drama that Dean was riveted by and Crowley was rather sure had been created directly in Hell to torment him.

“And why is he wearing cowboy boots, that’s hardly appropriate – “

“Crowley, this isn’t supposed to be accurate.”

“But why should I carte then –“

“For God’s sake you’re just supposed to have fun and lust after Doctor Sexy. So why don’t you do that.”

“Because I do not find Doctor Sexy particularly sexy.”

“Excuse you, he wears cowboy boots.”

“In that case perhaps I should invest in some hideous footwear” he drawled.

Dean looked at him and – was that a blush?

Yes, he was definitely blushing.

How ... interesting.

Dean’s gaze wandered down to his lips. Without meaning to, he licked them.

Dean’s eyes snapped back to his.

They leaned forward –

A knock on the door.

As the Pie Maker hastened to open the door, the P.I. couldn’t help but wonder what exactly that knock had interrupted – and what they should do about it, if anything at all.

He opened it to find Sam.

“Sammy?”

Without another word, Sam drew him into a hug. Dean stiffened.

“I’m sorry for storming off” his giant of a brother mumbled.

“You had every right to –“

“No I didn’t” he said, letting go of Dean. “I’m sorry, I just – needed some time to take it all in. But you were ten. You weren’t even in high school yet! How were you supposed to know what to do?”

Dean hugged him back, holding on tight.

Crowley cleared his throat behind them. “Well, then, now that the brothers are reunited... exit stage Crowley. Squirrel, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah” he managed to say, turning away from Sam to watch him walk out the door.

Dear God, what had he been about to do when Sam had intervened? He and Crowley were business partners, and to be precise, he’d blackmailed him into that in the first place.

He didn’t even like Crowley, let alone this way.

He didn’t.

“Say” Sam began, drawing back, “That was weird even for Crowley. Did something happen?”

What was he supposed to say? No but almost and I kind of would have wanted it to happen only for the part where I shouldn’t?

“Found a pie he likes. Peach.”

“And that’s strange?”

“For Crowley, yeah. Guy doesn’t like sweets much.”

Sam seemed to accept the explanation. “Can we talk?”

Dean nodded.

The brothers talked until late into the night, slowly learning more about each other. After twenty years of silence, they finally told each other the truth.

“Always knew you’d make it as a lawyer, Sam” Dean said.

“It was as much being stubborn as actually being any good, I’d say”.

“Come off it, you always wanted to go for law, even when we were kids.”

He nodded. “Speaking of when we were kids... So you touched Lancelot?”

Dean winced, but still told him the truth. About how he hadn’t paid attention, the car, Lancelot’s dead body.

“Any idea how long he will...”

“None. I’ve brought no one else back. It’s why I kept my distance.”

Sam nodded. “I can understand, finally. I just thought... I just thought you didn’t care.”

“That’s not true. I cared too much.”

He still feared something would happen to Sam, Bobby, Charlie, Hell, even Crowley, and he’d be faced with the choice to bring them back but know it would mean killing someone else, and that he wouldn’t –

He swallowed and tried to focus on Sam being back in his life. It was more than he’d ever have dared asked for.

“Dean” Sam said slowly, “I was angry at you for years. I won’t deny that. But... I always assumed there had to be a reason. That’s why I came here the second Crowley told me you were in trouble. I knew you couldn’t have done what they said you had.”

“Sammy...”

“It’s true. I mean, Dean – you have superpowers, and yet you still decided to bake pies instead of profiting from them. If that doesn’t tell people what kind of man you are...”

“I do help Crowley” he said sheepishly, because even though most of the time he felt annoyed that the P.I. had blackmailed him into working with him...

The truth was that he enjoyed it, enjoyed solving cases and seeking justice, helping families to heal after a tragedy.

And Crowley wasn’t bad company, either.

He only had to remember what had almost happened to prove that.

He sighed.

“Dean? I did interrupt you and Crowley, didn’t I.”

“Sammy, do me the favour and don’t ask.”

While the brothers were busy forging a new bond, the P.I., who had quickly returned to his own apartment after being interrupted, was busy trying to stomp all traces of a new-forged bond in his heart before it could become a problem.

Being completely unaccustomed to wanting someone more than in a physical manner, he was sadly not up to the task.

Normally when a day hadn’t gone the way he wanted, he would have visited the Pie Hole to see Dean, and that realization told him all he needed to know.

He was already half-way to... having feelings for the younger man, and he hadn’t even realized he’d begun to go down the slippery slope.

Crowley had always been careful not to grow attached to anyone. People simply didn’t seem to fit into his life.

And yet Dean Winchester had somehow managed to find a place for himself in Crowley’s existence.

It didn’t make any sense.

He’d best keep his distance for a few weeks, he decided, and solve a few cases on his own, just until those... feelings went away.

“Don’t look so glum, boss. I’m sure he’ll show up any minute now” Charlie said a few weeks later, but he could tell even her cheerfulness was forced.

There had been no calls or visits from Crowley since the night they had almost kissed, and Dean had early on decided that he had got the message.

That didn’t mean he didn’t at least want to know the guy was okay. Just... a little text or something saying that he was alright would have been quite enough.

Alright, that was a lie, but still, was it too much to ask to at least wanting to be told goodbye after over a year of them solving cases together?

Dean only now realised how much time he had actually spent with Crowley, how many late night stake outs they had had, how often he’d met him in the morgue to wake someone up.

How often they had hung out even after they had solved a case for no other reason than they could.

And Dean only now admitted to himself just how used he’d gotten to the status quo, and that he really wouldn’t have had anything against Crowley kissing him that night.

Of course he’d only know after the P.I. had already fled once and for all. Of course he would.

The one good thing that have come out of all this was that Sam was back in his life. He was even making plans to move back to Kansas, and Dean had talked to Uncle Bobby for the first time in years last week. Only on the phone, but still.

He hadn’t yet confessed the whole truth – was uncertain if he would – but it was a new beginning.

And if Crowley didn’t want to share that with him – that wasn’t Dean’s problem, except where it was.

He sighed.  

“Excuse me” a young man interrupted his thoughts, “Are you called Dean, by any chance?”

He looked up to find a young dark-haired man starting at him. “Depends on who’s asking?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just – my father’s in the hospital, he’s hurt rather badly, and when he woke up for a short while, he mumbled something about “peach pie” and someone named “Dean”, and I didn’t think much of it until I saw this place and thought I might as well ask –“

Dean’s throat felt suddenly dry. He swallowed. “You aren’t – he isn’t – your father’s not a P.I., is he?”

The man’s face told Dean everything.

Ten minutes later, after a hasty explanation to Charlie, who immediately agreed that she would stay behind and look after the Pie Hole, Dean was sitting in a taxi with – Crowley’s son.

“I didn’t know Crowley had a son” were the first words out of his mouth. He winced. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

All his years of staying away from human contact certainly hadn’t helped his social skills.

“It’s fine. Father and I never really got along. Mom raised me on her own, and after she was gone... I didn’t even know he had me listed as his emergency contact.”

“They probably told him he had to have one and he didn’t think he’d need it” Dean said.

“Sounds like him” Gavin said bitterly and he winced.

“I didn’t mean to say – he’s actually a good friend of mine. He –“

“It’s alright, you don’t have to pretend.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I know my father, and he wouldn’t just ask for any friend upon waking up. Never imagined he’d care enough for anyone to be that important to him, but still...”

“Did he realize you were there?” Dean asked, wondering if Gavin was feeling understandably jealous that his father had asked for someone else instead for him.

“Yes. Even squeezed my hand when I talked to him. The doctors say it’s a good sign.” He fell silent.

After a few moments, Dean asked, “What happened?”

Gavin told him.

The facts were these.

Fergus Crowley, P.I. and at the moment very frustrated man who would have liked to be someone’s lover except he was unable to admit that simple fact to himself, was once more chasing a man over a rooftop.

Except that this time, he was chasing a young man in his prime. Tobias Kemp, twenty-eight years, eleven months, one week, three days and seventy-two minutes old had no intention of falling to his death; and so he managed the jump between two high buildings.

Crowley, to his shame and unwelcome surprise, miscalculated the distance.

As he fell down from almost as high a building as Ellsworth had one the day he had first met Dean, he found he had only two regrets:

Firstly, that he had never tried to build a better relationship with his son.

And second, that he hadn’t kissed Dean that night.

So, when he became semi-conscious and realized one of his regrets might already be on its way to fixed, he uttered the other name that meant the world to him.

Dean didn’t really know what to do. Gavin had introduced him to the nurse’s as his father’s boyfriend – this time he hadn’t protested son he would be allowed in to visit – and gone off in search of the doctor, leaving Dean in Crowley’s room.

Of course he had enough money to get that.

It didn’t seem right to see him all wrapped up in bandages, pale and hurt in a hospital bed. Crowley was always on top of things. Crowley always came through.

“Hey Peaches” he managed to say, “Have to say, you always know how to surprise me. But this one’s not exactly the surprise I wanted.”

He stood at his bed, unsure whether or not to take his hand, then decided to go for it. “I met Gavin. Seems like a good man. By the way, mister, you’ll hear about this when you wake up. Charlie’s going to have your hide for not telling us you had a kid.”

He stuttered when he arrived at the word “when” and hated himself for it. Of course Crowley would wake up. He had to.

Whether or not he had to, he was destined to take his time to decide one way or another. Three weeks later, there had been no changes.

Dean didn’t know what he would have done without Charlie and Sam helping him support Gavin, or talking to Bobby on the phone.

But even with them – at this point, it had become pretty obvious that they knew about his feelings for the guy who had selfishly blackmailed him into solving crimes, and were remarkably relaxed about it – Dean couldn’t deny that sometimes – sometimes he thought...

“Do you think” he asked quietly one day, them having left Gavin at Crowley’s side to go back to the Pie Hole to rest, “if he doesn’t wake up, he’d still like to... wake up for a minute? To say goodbye to Gavin?”

Sam and Charlie traded a glance.

“I think” his brother finally said carefully, “Gavin wouldn’t be the only one he’d wish farewell.”

Dean looked away. His unspoken fear that he wouldn’t be able to –

“If it comes to that” Charlie said suddenly, “And I mean if it comes to that, I’ll be there, and I’ll push you two against one another if need be, so neither you nor Gavin have to feel guilty.”

His throat constricted. “Charlie –“

“It’s the least I can do” she said softly, taking his hand. “Dean, you could have thrown me out when I came here and told you I was being searched for, but you looked after me.”

“And vice versa” he replied.

She nodded. “So what’s one more little favour between friends?”

He laughed for the first time in days.

But there would be no miracle performed by the Pie Maker in order to bestow life upon Crowley for one more tearful minute.

Instead, he’d learn that sometimes miracles simply occur on their own.

For lack of a better thing to do, Dean was reading to Crowley while Gavin took a much-needed nap.

“With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs –“

“Frankenstein, Squirrel, really?”

The book dropped out of his hands. “Crowley?”

“Yes.” He looked at Dean and groaned. “Oh God. Am I alive?”

“Yes” he said, getting up.

“Will I be alive for longer than –“

“I didn’t touch you to bring you back, if that’s what you mean. You’ve been alive this whole time, and if I’ve got any say in the matter, you will be for some years to come!”

He rang for the doctors.

What followed was a flurry of Gavin sto9rming in as well as the professionals, people rejoicing, tests being performed.

It should take another three days for Dean Winchester and Fergus Crowley to be alone in his room together again.

More than enough time for a hardened P.I. to decide exactly what he was going to do.

Gavin had sent Dean in today, claiming that he needed to rest; but Dean had seen the looks he, Charlie and Sam were giving him.

He just didn’t know what they expected to happen. IF Crowley were interested, he’d have come around instead of falling of buildings.

“Hey, Crowley.”

“Dean. Would you please come here?”

He didn’t know what awaited him, but he did sit down on the chair next to Crowley’s bed.

He rolled his eyes. “I meant here” he said, patting the bedding with his right hand that miraculously wasn’t broken.

Dean obeyed, considering he’d almost died a month ago.

“What –“

Crowley gestured impatiently, then grimaced. “Help me out here. I can’t move that well yet.”

“What do you mean –“

“In case you haven’t noticed Squirrel, I take what I want. And right now, you’re slightly out of reach so...”

“Crowley...”

“May I kiss you, Dean?”

His heart started beating wildly. “That... would make everything complicated” he said slowly.

“Yes” Crowley confirmed.

“And I mean, your son is outside. You two will have to figure out where to go from here.”

“Yes” Crowley repeated.

“And then there’s Sammy, and Charlie’s still somewhat of a criminal if you ask the police, and did I mention my brother has an undead immortal dog...”

“How much longer are you going to talk, I’d really like to get to the –“

“My point is” Dean said carefully, “This sounds awfully like an adventure. IF we decide to go for it, that is. And you know how I feel about those.”

Crowley was silent.

“On the other hand, my life is already so crazy, why not?”

And Dean leaned forward and kissed Crowley.

It might have been a somewhat strange way for happily ever after to begin, but Dean Winchester and Crowley found they didn’t care.

Fifty years later

He didn’t wake up as he usually did unless there was an emergency – calmly, relaxed and ready to face the day; no, it was a sudden jolting into consciousness; and as he registered the mixture of love and grief on his husband’s face and the distance between them, as if Dean was careful not to touch him, he understood.

“One more minute?”

“More like fifty-five seconds” he said, his voice gentle. “When I woke up – you were already cold. I...” he trailed off.

Died in his sleep then, at the ripe old age of ninety-seven, next to his still dashing husband. Not a bad way to go by any stretch of the imagination.

They had talked about this, of course they had, a few years ago, briefly. He’d explained to his family he’d rather only have Dean at his side, as it had all begun, half a century ago.

“This is it, then. I have to say, it has been thoroughly entertaining. Give the others my love, would you?”

Now and then he’d thought about what he’d say to him during the last minute of his life. Now, after he’d told him this, he found himself simply looking at Dean, cherishing the sight while he still could. There was nothing to say, he realized, because they’d never left anything unsaid during their time together.  

Dean smiled; there were tears gathering in his eyes, and Crowley ached to wipe them off but forced himself not to. “It was quite the wild ride, wasn’t it.”

He nodded.

Dean swallowed. “You better wait for me, mister, wherever you end up because I am going to find you.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

They looked at one another; the seconds ticked by; and Crowley knew it was time to go. “You were the first kiss in my life that truly mattered. Want to be my last?”

Dean smiled through his tears. “I love you, Peaches.”

“And I love you, Squirrel.”

Dean leaned in and Crowley closed his eyes, accepting his kiss.

Sometime later

He’d got used enough to the memories of Dean that he shared his Heaven with that he knew immediately this was different. He’d just woken up from what he still stubbornly called “A good night’s sleep” and opened his eyes to find Dean watching him.

“You could have woken me up” he said as he reached out and confirmed that his husband was, indeed, here with him.

“You’ve been waiting long enough, figured I could do a little waiting myself” Dean answered, leaning into his touch.

“I missed you” he confessed.

“Right back at you.”

“How did you –“

“Same as you, in my sleep. Emma woke me up to say goodbye to them all.”

Dean had been hesitant at first to father a child, since he’d been scared she’d inherit his abilities; Crowley had assured him again and again that they’d deal with it when it came to it, and they had, admirably, if he said so himself.

“Gavin told me to look after you so you don’t get into trouble in the afterlife” Dean added with a fond smile on his lips.

“Ready for eternity, Squirrel?”

“With you, Peaches? Always.”

Dean rolled over him so he lay on top, grinned, and leaned down to kiss him.

At this very moment in their own personal Heaven, Dean Winchester and Fergus Crowley no longer cared about how old they both were.

They had all the time in the world.

[psalm40speakstome]

The One Jesus Loves by Sheila Walsh

“When I was a child and someone asked me what my name was I would say, “Sheila Davina Walsh.” My mum would tell me time after time that all I really needed to say was, my name is Sheila but that made no sense to my five-year old brain. There are lots of Sheila’s living in the west coast of Scotland, I figured, I’m the Sheila Davina Walsh one.

It’s not a unique line of reasoning. Even Jesus’ friend’s, Mary and Martha attached an add-on to their brother Lazarus’s name. Lazarus was deathly ill and so the sisters sent word to Jesus

Lord, the one You love is sick. — John 11:3 (NIV)

They didn’t just say, “Lazarus is sick,” because that could have been Lazarus who runs the village store or Lazarus, the shepherd. No, they wanted Jesus to understand this is our Lazarus… the one You love.

As I got older I discovered that not all the ways we identify ourselves are positive. Sometimes labels are attached to us and when we look in the mirror, those are all we see.

I remember a moment like that when I was just ten years old. I was at summer camp and loving every moment of it until one comment from a girl changed everything. It was Friday morning and on Sunday the dads were driving up to go canoeing with their daughters. Over breakfast that day, a girl I’d met for the first time at camp asked me a simple question,

“Is your dad coming on Sunday, Sheila?”

Before I had a chance to answer, another girl at the table from my home church said,

“Her dad’s not coming. He was mental. He killed himself.”

Silence. No one spoke for a few moments then the bell rang for our morning activities. Everyone left but I couldn’t move. I just sat there frozen in my chair. What she said was cruel but true and no one looked at me the same way after that. On Sunday, everyone headed off to the lake with their dads and I sat on my bunk covered in shame, labelled.

I wonder what labels you wear?

Divorced?

Single dad, single mom?

Overweight?

Out of a job?

Failure?

The list is endless. I remember talking to a very successful business man after an event I spoke at in Los Angeles. He told me that although he was a multi-millionaire, respected in his sphere, the voice he heard loudest in his head when he put his head on the pillow at the end of the day was his mother’s.

“I should never have had you. Having you ruined my health.”

Labels are like boxes. They keep us contained. They tell us what’s possible and what is not.

For years I have worn the label of mental illness. I was hospitalized and diagnosed with clinical depression in 1992. I used to wear that label with shame but an encounter with a broken-hearted, shame-filled pastor’s wife changed that forever. This pastor knew that I was speaking in his town as many of the women from his congregation were attending. His wife was not.

“She suffers with depression,” he wrote. “No one in our church knows because she thinks it will impact my ministry. Would you be willing to meet with her?”

I told him I would be glad to. We met in a private room in my hotel. At first, she wouldn’t even look at me. I told her that she didn’t have to say a word but I would like to share some of my journey with her. At the end of an hour, we were on our knees together, tears pouring down our faces in the healing presence of Jesus Christ. When she left that day, and ran into her husband’s arms something inside my five feet four-inch frame rose up. I remember thinking, no more! No more allowing earthly labels to tell me who I am. That day I committed myself to fight for you as well. I don’t know what you have been through, you might be right in the middle of a mess at the moment but I want to remind you who you really are.

You are the one Jesus loves.

Yes, you! The apostle John got it first. Three times in his gospel, that’s how he identified himself.

The disciple Jesus loved was sitting next to Jesus at the table. — John 13:23 NLT

Early on Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved. She said, “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put Him!” — John 20:1-2 NLT

Peter turned around and saw behind them the disciple Jesus loved. — John 21:20 NLT

I don’t believe that John thought Jesus loved him more than the others, he just really got it, deep down, marrow-of-the-bone kind of understanding — This is who I really am. I am the one Jesus loves.

So, that’s my prayer for you today. Let the labels go. Kick your way out of the box and be free. So, today and tomorrow and every day after that whenever you catch your reflection in the mirror, in a puddle or in a store window remember who you really are,

I am the one Jesus loves!”

[gingerssnapped720]

Introduction To The Cult

Good morning, dear reader. What shall we talk about today?

When last we met, I was babbling on about my immediate family dynamics, and I ended my post with the birth of myself and my little brother. I suppose that’s as good a place to start as any.

Like I said before, I was born on Friday, July 20, 1979. My mother told me that my original due date was at the end of August, but that I was born several weeks early. My mother hemorrhaged while giving birth to me, and needed an emergency c-section. I am told that I cried incessantly because I was too thin and could not hold my own body heat, so Mom put a hot water bottle in my bassinet with me to keep me warm.

My bassinet was large and black, and converted into a victorian style pram, with chrome decorative mounts on the sides and hood. Mom made both yellow and green skirts for it, with satin ribbons and matching sheets. She loved to sew when I was little. She made our clothes, dolls, doll clothes, pillows, and curtains. I still have one of the dresses Mom made, and my daughter Katie wore it when she was around 9 or 10. I cry every time I see the picture of her wearing it.

I don’t remember much of my early years. My very first memory is sitting on the living room floor, watching my Dad read the newspaper, and trying to get his attention. I must have been around four years old. I remember my Mom being pregnant and losing the baby. She named the baby Robin, because she didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, and she spoke of them once in a while when she was especially sad. And then when she became pregnant again, I remember how scared she was of the baby making it. But he did make it.

Nathan was born April 19, 1984, and I remember spending several days at Baka*’s house while my Mom was in the hospital. I liked being with Baka, except for her religious fanaticism. She was old world Polish, and she cooked homemade perogi and borscht, which the smell of makes me sick, even to this day. And seaweed. Always this woman with the boiled seaweed. She swore it made her strong. She was strong. There’s a story of Baka buying herself a kitchen table set from a yard sale, and carrying it home piece by piece. She hurt her knee once when walking home from the grocery store, when she tripped over railroad tracks, and she limped all the way home. Groceries and all.

After Nathan came home from the hospital, life got interesting. Mom had had another c-section, because in those days once you’d had a c-section, that is the only way they’d let you deliver from then on. She’d hemorrhaged again, and I remember the blood issue coming up for the first time. Whispers in the hallway and at our worship meetings about whether or not my mother had received a blood transfusion, were hushed whenever I got close enough to hear. I don’t know if she did or not.

Why is this a big deal? Because, dear reader, now comes the first “unbelievable” part of my story. You see religious fanaticism was not just a flaw of my grandmother, it was a flaw of the entire community of people I was raised with. It is an affliction that three of my aunts and two of my uncles suffer from to this day. It is the affliction of two of my children’s paternal grandparents, and the affliction of multiple family members of dear friends, who have since escaped the horror we grew up in.

When I say the word “cult” people instantly think of scenarios like “Heaven's Gate” or “The Manson Family”. Compounds with barracks, polygamy, hundreds of children fathered by a handful of men, and escapes delicately orchestrated by social workers and the FBI.

Sorry to disappoint.

My life inside the cult was not nearly so dramatic, nor was my leaving. No news cameras, no guns, no blood, no poisoned kool-aid. Nothing but the pounding of my own heart as my two little girls clung to me. No husband, no job, no home, no family, no money, no electricity, no heat, no phone, and a car I had no way to pay for. Leaving was silent. And the silence was more terrifying than gunshots.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The cult my family belonged to was an extension of the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. The Jehovah’s Witnesses. This religious organization estimates some 8.5 million members, although Wolfram Alpha estimates that number is closer to 16.6 million people who identify themselves as Jehovah’s Witnesses worldwide. They have 119,954 congregations in 240 countries.

“But that’s not a cult!”, you say.

I can hear you, dear reader. Rolling your eyes? Let me guess. You have a mother, brother, best-friend’s cousin who is a “Jehovah”, as so many people refer to them?

“They’re the nicest people I’ve ever met!”, you say. “I work with a guy who’s a ‘Jehovah”. He’s such a hard worker! Always on time, never swears, never a bad word from him about anyone!”

Yes. I’m sure all of that is true.

“But I’ve been to a few of their meetings! They’re so nice and welcoming! They’ve even been to my house and prayed with me. They study with my daughter and she loves it!”

Yes, yes I’m sure that has been your experience. There is a reason that has been your experience. And over the course of this narrative, I will show you what that reason is.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines religion as “a personal set or institutionalized system of religious attitudes, beliefs, and practices” and also as “scrupulous conformity”. I find both those definitions fascinating. I wonder what religion means to you personally, reader?

When I was born, I was born into a strange world. There were five religious meetings a week, split into three sessions, held on three separate days. Monday was our “Book Study” meeting. A bible based publication produced by the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society, was studied in sections, once a week at the home of an approved congregational member in good standing. It was conducted by a male Elder, who was assisted by another male who read aloud from the selected publication. This reader usually held the title of “Ministerial Servant” or “Baptized Publisher”.

Wednesday was the night of the “Ministry School” and “Local Needs” meetings, held back to back, generally beginning at 7pm and ending between 9 and 9:30pm. This was the meeting that tested the backsides and skull resilience of every infant, child, and teen in the seats. Children were expected to be quiet and well behaved. Even infants were subject to physical discipline if they misbehaved. Children over the age of four were expected to sit up straight and pay attention to the speaker, regardless of the subject. My friend John’s father used to flick the back of his children’s heads so hard it could be heard several rows back. Every child within earshot would sit up straighter so the same wouldn’t befall them from their own parents or other congregation members within flicking range.

I remember very young children with pajamas on under their suits and dresses. Females were not permitted to wear pants during ANY religious event, regardless of weather, health, etc. Sleepy children with sore backsides, desperately trying to stay awake through the incessant droning of the speaker to avoid another lashing with the ruler or wooden spoon that stood straight up out of  their parent’s book bag or briefcase pocket. A proud symbol to the congregational Elders, and anyone else, that discipline was swift and merciless in their household.

These wednesday meetings were where constituents learned how to talk to “wordly” people, to “share the good news of God’s kingdom”. Basically it was recruitment training. Congregation members were warned to appear “blameless in all things” as “not to bring reproach on God’s name”. To be “no part of the world as Jesus was no part of the world.” Here male adults and boys as young as eight were called upon to give “Talks” or sermons that they had wrote themselves, and then publicly critiqued by an Elder. Role play for female adults down to very young girls about how to use charm, modesty, and bible knowledge to gain entry to people’s homes and start bible studies with the families they met in their door to door “teaching” work. These role play sessions were also critiqued publicly. Disabled and elderly congregation members were encouraged to write letters or make phone calls to families who had recently lost someone, and “teach” them about how they could see their loved ones resurrected. These families were found through obituary listings and newspaper articles, and by picking names out of the phone book.

Nothing like preying on bereaved families at their most vulnerable. The thought of it now makes me sick to my stomach.

Sunday held the “Sunday Talk” and “Watchtower Study” meetings. The sunday talk would consist of an Elder from another local congregation giving an hour long sermon, the subject of which was selected from a list of approved outlines, and then approved by the congregation “Talk Coordinator”. After the “Talk”, the congregation studied a preselected article in the “Watchtower” publication, which was a thin magazine, written and produced by the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society, that was also used in their door to door preaching. This meeting was conducted much like the Wednesday night Book Study meeting, with an Elder presiding, and a Ministerial Servant reading. Pre-written questions were asked by the presiding elder, and microphones were passed to constituents who wished to answer those questions, often by reading the answer verbatim from the article.

After the Sunday meeting, congregational members were encouraged to participate in the door to door preaching work. There was also preaching work on Saturday morning, usually beginning around 9am.  This “work” was to the dread and embarrassment of every school age member in attendance. We lived in fear of knocking on a door and finding a classmate, or worse a bully, on the other side. Congregation members who did not participate in going door to door regularly would be chastised by Elders, shamed by their peers, and ostracized by the congregation as a whole.

My entire family lived with the label of “Bad Association” due to my father no longer attending meetings beginning in 1984, and my mother’s severe and obvious mental health issues. My mother suffered from Agoraphobia, Social Phobia, Claustrophobia, Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and may have also been schizophrenic. All of which were exacerbated by my brother Michael’s suicide in 1990.

Mental health issues were not adequate to excuse you from your duty to preach door to door, participate at meetings, or to appear “blameless in all things”. Sufferers of mental health disorders (including Homosexuality, and Gender Dysphoria) were counseled to pray. If prayer didn’t work, they were shamed by the Elders and other congregation members for not praying hard enough, because Jehovah their God would save them from their suffering, if they only had faith. Mental health sufferers were forbidden to seek outside counseling, use psychiatric prescriptions, or speak of their struggles as not to “stumble other members of the congregation”.

My brother died, because of this heartless policy.

[justsoyoudonthaveto]

So….it’s been a bit of a month, hasn’t it? Between work, and making sure that both Older and Younger Son do their school work while sitting on the couch, coming up with interesting things to have for dinner based on how picky everyone is, and a general feeling of panic around every corner, I’m exhausted. Friday I found myself teaching violin. Have I ever played violin? Nope – I played the flute, the fife, and the piano – all equally bad. But times being what they are, we do what we need to do.

And what I need to do right now is see if Hayden Christensen is an actor who just needs a better script and a better director to turn in a good performance, or if he is just a plank of wood with blue eyes. I found this gem on Prime, and just realized it’s an hour and 41 minutes – that’s quite long – but I’m determined to push on. I sat through Revenge of the Sith a few days ago and the forehead acting was seriously painful, but not as bad as the dialogue. We are, instead, going to watch Little Italy, which is basically Romeo & Juliet with pizza. (There WAS a Hallmark version of this a while ago, but this one isn’t it.  If anyone cares, THIS was it)  AND I’m watching this while Older Son is practicing his trumpet.

HC in Revenge of the Sith – you can see the beginning of the forehead acting right here!

This movie also stars Emma Roberts and Alyssa Milano, and is set in, you guessed it, Little Italy, which honestly really doesn’t look like the Little Italy I know about in Manhattan. There’s a joint narration of both our lead actors, while they have a “we were kids” background. Their fathers were best friends running the “best” pizza joint in the neighborhood. Alyssa Milano is Emma Roberts’ mom, and Danny Aiello is Hayden’s grandfather.Emma’s family has the sauce, and Hayden’s family has the sauce. Emma’s character is named Nicky, and Hayden’s is named – um, not sure yet. Anyway, it’s idyllic, and they are up for “Best Pizza” at the San Gennaro festival (which seems to be the only Italian festival in NYC).

Flash Forward to LONDON – Nicky works as a chef under Jane Seymour – who is described as a prettier, scarier, Gordon Ramsey. Nicky has a chance to win a job at a Mayfair Fast Casual restaurant, but in order to do so, she has to go home, and redo her visa. And Jane Seymour drops a bomb – she has to go back to CANADA – so this whole Little Italy takes place in Toronto? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

Hayden’s character is named Leo – and he stayed home in FREAKING CANADA, and we find out that the two families have fought since the flashback – and now there are 2 pizza places next to each other, and they are feuding, feuding, feuding. Leo is telling his dad they have to modernize, and it’s like he told his Italian dad to put English cheddar on the pizza.  Both pizza joints have Indian co-workers, whom you KNOW will get together at the end. So far, HC is … okay. He’s very loose in the role, which is nice after being so uptight as future Darth Vadar, but he’s not setting the world on fire – that being said, this is a movie about a pizzeria. Do you really want that to be set on fire? True story, in my hometown, the owners of the “posh” Italian restaurant that was next store to the only pizzeria in town blew up their restaurant in the 80s for the insurance money, thereby robbing a small NJ town of pizza for almost a year.

Nicky comes home from London in a big hat. They head to the bar where Leo works. Their eyes meet and music starts, but you know they’re gonna hate flirt till they kiss. And after 2 shots, Leo challenges Nicky to a soccer match. Nicky has two very thirsty female friends who are mildly inappropriate for a movie what both Older and Younger Son have decided to watch with me. But now they’re playing soccer in the rain, and doing shot when either of them miss. It’s in slow motion, and there are a lot of spectators who don’t seem to mind to be watching in the rain until there’s thunder, which is good, because Leo goes in for the kiss, and then Nicky passes out.

I cry foul that the first male butt we see in this movie is Leo’s pal Luigi, a large Chinese guy who acts Italian. Nicky wakes up in Leo’s bed, and thinks she had sex with Leo, but no, Leo was a gentleman.

Both mothers hide wine in the hanging baskets of fake gerber daisies that separate the two pizzerias.

Nicky hasn’t told her family she’s only home for a visit, and not to stay. Her family immediately makes her eat pizza. And Nicky’s family did something to the pizza at Leo’s place – marijuana looks like oregano after all. And Leo is getting seriously sexually assaulted by the cops who came to break up the pot party.

Jesus is everyone in this movie hot for each other? Andrea Martin, Nicky’s grandmother, is in love with Danny Aiello, and they just met each other in a confessional at a Catholic church.

Nicky shows up at Leo’s house, just as Lisa, a flight attendant and Leo’s sometime girlfriend. Nicky gets jealous of Lisa, which, seriously girl, you’ve been gone for five years. But even though Lisa is probably naked already in Leo’s apartment, Leo still asks her out for dinner the next night.

At Luigi’s bar, both fathers meet up to insult each other and hate boast about their children. It is SO bad and so dumb. Cut to the old people, who cannot meet up in a confessional anymore, are now sitting in a Starbucks freaking out over a caramel macchiatto.

Cut to Nicky’s parents’ backyard where they are grilling. Alyssa Milano comes in saying she almost forgot the nice cannolis. Dad gives her a kiss and then says, here, take the gum (apparently she’s got bad breath) leave the cannolis. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. I wonder HOW long it took the writers of this to put that in there. And Alyssa Milano’s character has just invited some kind of sleezy Italian stereotype to keep Nicky back in Canada. Ew, stereotype just sniffed her shoe.

She’s at Leo’s house, and he’s making her dinner – yes, it’s pizza – that she just put FIGS on top of. WHAT? He lives in a dive apartment that has a pizza oven. They are flirt pizza baking. I’ve been really comfort baking these past few weeks – today I made a lemon drizzle cake and a loaf of Italian bread. But apparently this pizza is good, even with freaking figs on it.

Andrea Martin is back at church in front of a very jankety statue of Our Lady. And Danny Aiello is totally proposing to her right in front of the statue, and even though Andrea Martin looks at him with heart eyes, she says no.

Leo has a rooftop garden that is populated with lamps.

He has a desire to open an organic pizzeria. Seems weird. Now they are dancing across from each other and I do not get it, but they are so in love with each other, you guys, it’s amazing that it’s taken this long for Nicky to say “I should go.”

Poor Andrea Martin, squeezing tomatoes and pining for Danny Aiello. Danny Aiello is giving love advice to Leo, while Leo cooks his revolting fig pizza. And Danny Aiello just said “You can take the girl out of Little Italy, but you can’t take Little Italy out of the girl.” WRITERS – I’m staring at you disapprovingly over the tops of my glasses right now.

Everyone freaks out over figs on pizza, and yet Hawaiian pizza is totally being made fun of.

Andrea Martin is back at the Starbucks and she’s had like 8 caramel macchiattos. She’s trying to drown her sorrows in coffee, and Danny Aiello shows up and seems to be quoting John Lennon or something to get back in her good graces, by stating that he wants a home for the two of them where they can watch The Bachelor in bed together. Regardless of how dumb that sounds – because the true test of marriage is watching Dateline and then finding out what happened at the end because your husband stayed up to watch it while you dozed off – they love each other and get engaged.

Leo climbs a ladder to deliver pizza to Nicky in her bedroom. It’s a heart shaped pizza. Next day, they both jump on a vespa and go riding through the San Gennaro festival, eating gelato and exploding eggplant with firecrackers. They also rode through a fire hydrant and now they are back in Leo’s apartment all “I gotta get out of these wet clothes” and now we’re in for a sex montage because ha, this is NOT your friendly Hallmark movie, it’s on Prime. 

Oh, wait, it’s not a montage, it’s a fade to black, and then fade in on Andrea Martin and Danny Aiello. That’s not upsetting.

Jane Seymour FaceTimes in the afterglow, reminding Nicky that she needs to do her job, and asking her if she’s been “shagging” and if there is a penis more pressing than her restaurant in Mayfair, and quite honestly, that’s funny.

Leo doesn’t know she isn’t back to stay, and she casts it up to him that he’s had a lot of girlfriends in the past five years, and she’s now going HARD into The Sad Times. Let’s see what Leo does in his own Sad Times, because I really hope we don’t get a return of forehead acting.

Old people arrange a family dinner at “Korma Sutra – a Sensual Italian Restaurant” (with a bunch of Indian carvings on the wall) where both the Montagues and Capulets sit down for a curry and they announce that Andrea Martin and Danny Aiello are seeing each other. And the tired feuding old men get freaked out, and it comes down to letting the “Best Pizza” contest in the San Gennaro festival decide who has the Best Pizza, and whoever doesn’t have the best pizza has to leave. But because tired feuding old men aren’t allowed in the contest anymore, they have to have Leo and Nicky enter instead. And Nicky says, “I’m a chef, I don’t do pizza.”

Because that’s not insulting to her entire family. But then it gets more insulting and Nicky is way more into The Sad Times.

Leo confronts his best friend Luigi about the fact that he’s really Chinese, because Luigi is his Sassy Friend who tells Leo that he’s in love with Nicky – and then we find out that Luigi is gay, so he’s extra Sassy.

This movie is taking way too long.

Pizza Competition Time. round One – they have 10 minutes to make pizza. Leo is making proccioto and melon pizza, and who knows what Chef Nicky made. But of course, they both make it to the finals, where they have to make a Pizza Margharita.  Nicky is rolling the pizza dough with a pin. I feel like that’s wrong.

The winner is Leo, because of course it is, and because we know that Nicky switched the sauces underneath the table. And then Leo makes a statement about the whole thing, but Nicky misses it because she already took a taxi to the airport. But Leo hightails it to the airport in a Vespa (which he leaves at the front entrance of the airport in clear violation of all those 9-11 rules).

But Nicky keeps getting stuck in the metal detector – just in time for Leo to make a heartfelt declaration to her from the steps overlooking the security line.

AWWWW Gay Luigi just had a meet cute with the gay Security Guard! Sassy Friends DO find love! We also discover the source of the feud (and it’s dumb) and then everyone realizes they’re being supremely dumb, and then the Angry Security Lady takes back control from these weirdos and starts moving people through the line again.

Everyone is happy and in love, and flash forward to a new restaurant owned by Leo and Nicky – it’s the wedding reception of Andrea Martin and Danny Aiello, and Gay Luigi caught the bouquet. Jane Seymour shows up and loves the pizza and wants to franchise, and the Indian sous chefs get to dance with each other, and everyone loves each other and east dessert pizza. The end.

Ok. I’ve seen this movie before in the Hallmark version, and although that one was probably filmed in Canada, it did pretend to be the US. Looking at all this pizza, now I want pizza, but we’re having lemon pepper chicken with angel hair pasta tonight. I wonder how good Canadian pizza actually is – I’m spoiled by living in NJ, where the best pizza in the US is (shut up Chicago, that is NOT pizza).

Did we answer the question : Is Hayden Christensen a good actor or not? – I think so. I think he’s … not bad. He needs a lot more help than he was EVER given in the Star Wars Prequels, and it helps when he’s not saying corny-ass dialogue like “I can overthrow the chancellor.” There was very little forehead acting in this, although a lot of forehead wrinkling, making me believe he’s a lot older than he was playing as Leo. If you’re looking for a good performance of his, go see Shattered Glass.

Was this movie good? Meh. But since we’re stuck in the house, what else are we going to do – especially now that allergy season is here on top of everything else. It was a nice diversion while my bread is baking and keeps me from wondering why my Lemon Drizzle cake didn’t rise that much – unless it’s supposed to be half the size of the loaf pan? Anyway, doesn’t matter. We’ll eat it later. And besides, that’s not the point. The point is, I watched Little Italy, just so you don’t have to.

  Solving the question, did Hayden Christensen deserve the abuse Star Wars generated? All that, plus pizza, Alyssa Milano, Danny Aiello, and Canada. I watched Little Italy, Just So You Don't Have To. So....it's been a bit of a month, hasn't it? Between work, and making sure that both Older and Younger Son do their school work while sitting on the couch, coming up with interesting things to have for dinner based on how picky everyone is, and a general feeling of panic around every corner, I'm exhausted.