#like if i did what ben said on christmas my door wouldn’t be broken even if i didn’t do anything wrong

[lilgynt]

went on a drive to clear my head and deal with my emotions and not get in a fight with my mom - mom calls bc i locked her out and i have to drive back

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XVI

Choices: Open Heart; Part 1-15 in bio.

Rating: M, implied sex, swearing

Song: My Own - Whitaker

Word Count: 3380

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @choicesficwriterscreations @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @bubblelaureno @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa @kingkassam || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Sixteen: Scarred

Suki didn’t need to hear any more. There was no explaining away this one. She’d asked the question and his answer was simple. So I am just a body to you? Yes.

Her gaze fell to the floor and her feet felt cemented there even though all she wanted to do was run away. She kept trying and trying but they wouldn’t budge. Noise was all one big long beep fizzling around her ears and her vision was a big blurry mess, despite the tears clinging on for dear life at the bottom of her lashes.

But she didn’t need to move. Bryce already had. She saw as the blurred shapes of his legs removed themselves from her peripheral and she could picture each step in her mind, each one another stab to her chest.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, swaying in the growing dark, the tears still gripping on obstinately to her lash line.

And it seemed she made it home on autopilot, because the next thing she knew she was unlocking her front door and gliding through to her bedroom. If anyone was around in the communal areas, she wouldn’t have been able to tell because nothing was registering.

She also seemed to manage to undress and slide into pyjamas in smooth movements, eyes barely blinking and mouth set slightly parted. She hadn’t bothered to turn the light on, just a small window of grey sky illuminating the room ever so slightly.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying not to think too much about the time Bryce had done this for her. She didn’t even look in the mirror as she did so.

It wasn’t until Suki cradled herself into bed and laid to one side, the space Bryce often occupied empty in front of her, that she finally began to cry.

She felt out to the space, the smooth cotton kind of stinging beneath her still-cold hands, like that would somehow let him know she was thinking of him. That she was sorry. Sorry that she went and fucked up and caught feelings. Sorry that she acted on impulse. The empty space never usually felt like a problem, probably because she knew it would be occupied at some point or another. And now it wouldn’t be. She slowly turned her hand over, looking at her scars in the dim light. And she just cried more. Because it was a reminder of Bryce seared into her skin forever. The puckered skin a neat example of Bryce’s careful and thoughtful stitches. The red disappearing scabs a beacon of how she’d messed it all up.

His stitches hadn’t scarred just her hand, but her heart, too.

She wasn’t even meant to feel anything for him, but mistakes were made. She wasn’t even sure she ever felt like it was a good idea, even from the start, just that she wanted him. She had been helpless to stop the unforgiving want.

But as she grew to want him in the other way, he’d stayed the same.

This was nothing like the time Bryce had been funny about the surgery, or when she’d been worried about what she’d heard him say to Ben. This was different. This was real and definite and final. No chance of miscommunication. She’d worried—knew to some extent—that how she felt was one sided, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

She was embarrassed. Because even if she’d been right about him not feeling the same, she’d still believed he at least cared for her as a friend. Just like the rest of the group. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

There was definitely a sense of frustration that he’d been pissed at her for lying, but in admitting that she was only a fuck to him and not a friend, he’d revealed he’d been lying since she asked him about it.

Her throat hurt as she tried to cry silently. She couldn’t believe how badly everything had got fucked up. She found herself wishing that the space next to her was occupied. She didn’t even want the sex. She wanted the intimacy. Just Bryce next to her. His stupid fucking grin and his eyes like chasms she’d trip and fall down with just a word—just the thought of hearing her name on his lips triggered a chorus of ‘Why, Suki?’ and she was in even more desperate tears. No ‘Sukes’, no ‘Santa Fe’, and her full name normally sounded like heaven—but.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there wallowing. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep until she woke up with the sore, crusty eyes and a wet pillow. Pathetic. He wasn’t even anything to me. I hate that I made myself feel this way.

—-

The next few days were a big blend of work, coming home to stare at a wall, and eventually needing to eat.

This shouldn’t have fucked her up as much as it was, but it had. She’d lost a friend above anything else. Or, who she thought was a friend.

And she wished that maybe this had happened sooner, before she got too sucked in. But then she realised. She’d always been screwed. The entire time.

She hadn’t even considered previously that they’d had an emotional bond before they even had a good chance at being only fuck buddies. When they’d kissed in the supply closet all those months ago, it was sealed. Her tears had been drying on her cheeks as he’d kissed her desperately, tasting them and consuming her misery. For her, anyway. She should’ve read the signs, let herself stay away from the inevitable heartbreak.

And yes, Suki got sick. So she was sick and heartbroken all at once. She had to take a couple of days off, and all she did was hole up in her room and pop out occasionally to cook up a meal from the freezer. Thank god she was always prepared.

One day she was unfortunate enough to enter the kitchen while Jackie was already there, eating a sandwich at the table.

“Hey,” she smiled, she knew Suki was sick so Suki assumed that was what the sympathetic look on her face was about.

“Hi,” Suki replied meekly, before pulling out some cold pizza from the fridge and digging in to a slice.

“Aren’t those sweatpants a bit big for you?” Jackie asked. Suki forgot she’d been living in Bryce’s hoodie and sweatpants she’d stolen at Christmas. She was currently in an old t shirt of her own and said sweatpants which definitely were a tad big.

“No,” Suki groaned through her mouthful of pizza.

“Okay, what is up? Any time you’re at the apartment you’ve been moping and barely taking care of yourself, you haven’t even noticed me when I’ve said hi to you at the hospital. I know you’re sick but... I don’t know. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Jackie. I guess I just hate February.”

“No… there’s something wrong. Is this a bad time of year for you?”

She looked at Jackie properly for the first time in the conversation, concern laced in her typically brusque face. It was a bit of an impasse. Telling Jackie would probably screw things up further, especially given how close she was with Bryce. If she was being honest, Suki had no idea if Bryce had confronted Jackie about the whole thing. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to know. If Bryce hadn’t chastised Jackie, then Suki knew the whole thing had been about her, and he really had meant that the fact they were sleeping together changed things. Of course if he had, that would mean that Suki wasn’t special at all. She couldn’t win.

Was indifference worse than resentment?

“Something like that,” she gave a small sad smile. Jackie nodded understandingly, and Suki knew she wouldn’t press.

“Here,” Jackie patted the chair beside her, clearing off the last of her sandwich in the other hand. Suki didn’t really want to sit down and chat—she’d been hoping to hole up in her room all day again—but at this point that would be rude. So she reluctantly slid into the chair. “So, I need to ask you a question.”

Suddenly Suki’s head whirred with all the possible things Jackie could be curious about, but all they landed on was Bryce. Had she somehow found out they’d been sleeping together? Or, did she know those sweatpants were his? What if Bryce had confronted her about the whole thing and that was this? All questions lead to him. And that made her seriously nervous. She didn’t want to talk about him, she didn’t want to think about him. Even though that seemed all she could do these days.

“Okay…”

“So after the whole I-stopped-you-from-hitting-a-surgical-intern thing, did you maybe… go back and do it?”

Suki balked, she wasn’t expecting this. “No? What do you mean?”

“I saw the two of them sporting matching black eyes, I wondered if—”

“No.” Suki was surprised by the revelation, because it certainly hadn’t been her.

“Oh. Alright. I suppose he’s probably just a dick generally, then. I’m glad, I’m still shocked they didn’t report us.”

Although Jackie might’ve been right—he might’ve just been an ass in some other situation—Suki couldn’t help but feel there was some connection. Maybe Landry was pissed they’d given him away? No, he didn’t seem the type. She didn’t really feel like asking the guy, but the situation was curious to her. Hopefully there’d be enough gossip once she was back at work to figure it out.

“Fred’s nose is fine, by the way. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this,” Jackie said as she looked at the table; affection was something she was still getting her head around.

Suki nodded, she was glad she hadn’t broken anyone. Because she had been feeling a little guilty, even if he had deserved it. That feeling paled in comparison to how it had affected things with Bryce, though.

—-

The following days, months, indeterminate amount of time were hell for Bryce too.

He’d taken it too far. He could’ve let her down more gently. But she was too forgiving, too loyal, and she would’ve still been there for him—he couldn’t have that. Fucking hell, she would’ve probably bought him soup about the fact he’d rejected her if he’d been soft about it. And shit, he adored her for it.

He felt so incredibly guilty because he could see he’d hurt her. Those words cut like a knife for so many reasons. First, he looked like he only cared about getting in her pants and it hurt him that that meant every meaningful moment they shared became just another way to fuck her. Second, it had been a direct contradiction to what he’d told her before when she’d asked him the same question—and he’d insisted they were friends. Third, he was sure he’d done it at the worst possible time. Just when he was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this. Like the way she looked at him meant what he wanted it to mean. And yes, that was why it had to happen, but it also meant he’d probably hurt her even more.

Shit, he wished he didn’t hurt her at all. Ever. He wished she could always be okay, he wished she could brush it off. But he knew she couldn’t. Even if he meant nothing to her—something he didn’t know the answer to—the way Suki was as a person would mean she’d be upset no matter what. She was thoughtful, loving, and empathetic. He’d seen that time and time again. Even if she didn’t like him the way he liked her, the fact of losing a friend was enough for her. And he was beating himself up nonstop for letting things get to the point where he would hurt her. Had hurt her.

Part of Bryce had wanted those idiots to report him for hitting Ben, some sort of sadistic payback for what he’d done to Suki. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t, but at least he still had work to pour himself into. That was his only solace. The thing he loved the most. Or, historically had.

Although he truly fell for Suki at Halloween, he was also of the belief that there’d been some odd emotional bond from the very start. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before. All the flirting, the desire to be near her, the way she made him feel. It was clinging to the familiar, the concentrated girl from college who he’d shared a moment with, whom he’d felt compelled to comfort that day. They were fucked before they even tried.

—-

If Suki had any hope of things fixing themselves after some time, that was gone when the months dragged on by with no word. It was easier than she expected to avoid friend outings:

I’m so tired.

I’m working really early tomorrow.

I’m actually working.

I’m trying to drink less.

And that seemed enough for the moment. She had picked up enough extra shifts that most of the time she really was working her ass off. Aurora knew what had happened, being Suki’s one confidant, and helped along with the excuses and avoiding. Aurora was… less than happy with Bryce but never said anything at Suki’s request. She did, however, disapprove of the way Suki was handling things.

“You can’t let this mean you avoid all your friends,” she’d said one day after trying to drag Suki out of her bedroom to Donahue’s. Suki had been grateful that Aurora hadn’t said ‘I told you so’. Even if she had been right.

“I live with you guys. It’s only him who’s extra, anyway.”

“Don’t you think it might be nice to clear the air, though? Yeah, he was a dick, but you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable around him for the rest of the time we’re all at Edenbrook.”

“I’m just not ready yet.”

Was Suki putting off the inevitable? Almost definitely.

—-

Around Easter, Suki had a couple of days off and was still feeling totally awful. It didn’t help this gave her a chance to think about it. She’d just been so engrossed in work and then so exhausted she’d fall straight asleep. There wasn’t as much time to focus on it properly, even if it did come into her mind at every opportunity. Every time she had to schedule a surgery she dreaded it would be Bryce walking through those doors—but by a stroke of luck it never was. Fate striking again. She did have Ben once, which was as awkward as it could’ve been.

That day around Easter the group had made a big meal and spent some nice quality time together. So in the next instalment of a long line of mistakes, Suki drank too much wine and found herself on Bryce’s doorstep. Which kind of made her cry all over again remembering the last time she was drunk and how Bryce cared for her. How he’d held her and kept her hair back and brushed her teeth and put her in his pyjamas. How he’d cuddled her as she fell asleep. And how apparently that was just a courtesy, not because he really gave a shit.

She thought about what he’d said: if only you knew what a screw up I was, and how ominous that felt now. I’m not sure what you meant, but I feel like the screw up now. No—I am the screw up.

She stared at his door from a distance, before nearing it. Then backing away. Then pacing back and forth. It probably should’ve been a warning that even in her drunk state she couldn’t make up her mind, but clearly it wasn’t.

She neared it, and knocked. Footsteps began to sound out and then when she felt the knob begin to twist she blockaded it on her side.

“Don’t open the door,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear, lolling her forehead onto it. “I can’t do this properly if I have to look at you.” Because even just imagining his face was painful right now. He probably looked so pretty. Unaltered. Just the thought was making her sobs hitch in her throat; but she didn’t want him to hear her crying.

There was a pause from the other side. “Suki…” the tone of his voice was indecipherable.

“I just need to say it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Unawares to Suki, Bryce was directly on the other side of the door, his ear pressed up against it and his eyes shut. It was her voice—he hadn’t heard it in what felt like way too long. He just wanted to rip open the door and see her face. Hug her. Kiss her. Say sorry. But she was right, that wouldn’t be a good idea. So he clambered his hands against the wood beside his head, reaching for the unreachable.

Bryce wasn’t sure how to respond, either.

“I fucked up. Bad. I-” she swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I fell for you,” she tried to control her voice but the tears were relentless, her hand shaking on the wooden door. This wasn’t the ideal situation to be confessing her feelings but it honestly just sort of came out. And there was no taking it back now.

It wasn’t something she was particularly used to… wearing her heart on her sleeve like this. Usually she’d sort of just… fallen into a relationship and that was that. But here she was admitting to Bryce—who’d told her in no uncertain terms he didn’t feel the same—that she’d fallen for him.

Drunk, no less.

“You…” Bryce started, but Suki cut him off.

“And I don’t… wanna see you again. I can’t ever see you again. It hurts too damn much. I know I don’t mean that to you, but I just...”

“But Suki you—”

“Please don’t. I’m going to move on. I’m giving up Bryce for lent,” Suki, drunk, didn’t care that Easter was the end of lent. “I just had to say it first.”

Before she broke too much she rushed away from the apartment and didn’t look back.

Didn’t hear Bryce’s whisper from the other side of the door: “I fell for you too. Long ago.”

—-

All the way home she questioned whether she’d made the right decision. Whether she should’ve just left it.

If admitting her feelings was perhaps entirely idiotic. Sober Suki would probably think so. But there was a slight sense of pressure lifted. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. He knew.

She’d feel embarrassed tomorrow, but that was a problem for sober Suki.

When she got home to see everyone still sitting around the table laughing with their wine glasses she wasn’t entirely sure she was in the mood for it (the whole heartbreak thing probably had something to do with that), but couldn’t object when she was beckoned over.

“Did you get more wine?”

Oh yeah. Her excuse. Oops.

“They were out…”

Jackie shot her an uncertain glance, but everyone was too drunk and jolly to care.

Eventually Suki was able to retreat to bed and follow her usual pattern. But she found herself staring at her phone. Specifically Bryce’s contact.

She’d meant it. She was giving him up. That meant taking certain measures.

She deliberated for what felt like hours, but eventually sent the text.

Suki Moore: Bryce & Suki’s Fuck Buddy Agreement: TERMINATED

Almost immediately her heart was in her throat and again knew sober Suki would regret this. It hurt. Knowing she’d put the final nail in the coffin.

Bryce’s dots popped up. Then down again. Then up, down. Then they never returned. The word read looking more and more like dread. He was probably glad to be free of her.

She found herself wondering how things had changed so drastically. Bryce had gone from being a stranger at a frat party to a colleague with undeniable chemistry to a fuck to… so much more. And now he was worse than a stranger. Her relationship with him was well and truly terminated.

What’s a break-up when the two were never really together?

[midnightartemis]

A Spotless Detention

Chapter 19

Read Chapters 1-19 on A03

***SFW***

Professor Tarkin had a mind for punishment. Not two steps into the classroom, he directed Rey to the small door at the side of the classroom and the bucket and brush sitting beside it. Her task was to clean and organize the potion ingredient storage room to Professor Tarkin’s satisfaction. Rey took that to mean clean enough to eat off of. She had almost laughed at the punishment, wondering if Tarkin knew how many hours she had spent cleaning the orphanage top to bottom with nothing but a toothbrush and a bowl of soapy water.

That was until she saw the inside of the storage room. Shelves reaching meters above her were filled with thousands of bottles and vials and jars of various sizes. They extended far back beyond what Rey could see in the dim, grimy green light.

Rey ran her finger along the nearest shelf’s edge and studied the mound of black grim that came off on her skin. If someone had told her that no one had cleaned the potion cabinet since the founding of Hogwarts, she would have believed them.

Forget a week, it was going to take her years to turn the room into any form of clean and orderly. Rey pulled out her wand. “ Lumos .”

Not a second later from back in the classroom, Professor Tarkin stated, “No. Magic.”

Bloody hell.

“ Nox.” The light from her wand went out. She’d have to clean the lights first if she was to have any chance of seeing her work.

Rey picked up the empty bucket and looked around for a faucet. There wasn’t one in the storage room, so she stepped back into the classroom knowing she had never noticed one before.

Professor Tarkin sat in his office, the door left just a crack open. Rey braced herself and knocked gently.

“What is it?”

“I need water, Sir.”

“Then go get it.”

“From where?”

“I’m sure there’s a bathroom somewhere.”

Rey gritted her teeth. There was a bathroom a level above. She’d have to climb several flights of stairs just to get there. No telling who she might run into on her way to and from.

She hurried out of the classroom towards the bathroom. The sooner she got started the faster she could be done.

☽✹☾

“You wanted to see me, Professor?”

Rey froze at the low, muffled voice coming from the classroom. It sounded like Ben. But what was he doing here? She supposed he had just as much reason as any to talk to Professor Tarkin. Tarkin was Slytherin’s Head of House after all.

Professor Tarkin said something else that she couldn’t quite make out. Then Ben again, more muffled this time. Rey moved closer to the storage room door, trying to hear better. Maybe she could get Ben’s attention.

“Ah, yes. Solo.” She heard Professor Tarkin ask from his office. The door shut after that.

Rey wilted. Still, she stayed close to the door, in full view of the classroom. She absentmindedly ran her brush over one of the shelves she had already cleaned (though it still looked just as dirty as before). The professor must have had a noise-dampening spell on his office as she could hear no more of their conversation.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and both Ben and Professor Tarkin stepped out of the office. Rey’s eyes caught Ben’s. His face was hard as stone, expressionless. It almost seemed as though he was looking through her, but Rey saw his eyes. Tired, sad, guilty. He looked away and hurried out of the classroom. She had to talk to him even if just for a minute.

“Professor-”

Professor Tarkin turned and set his stony glare on her. “No.”

“It’s only- I have to use the-”

“No.”

There was no dissuading Professor Tarkin from his answer it seemed.

Certain that Ben was avoiding her and that there was no leaving this room until the Portions cabinet was clean, Rey sighed and returned to her work. Her heart fell even further at the sight of how little she had done already. At this rate, she’d be here all night, every night until she was one of the ghosts who roamed the halls.

A soft rustle interrupted the empty quiet of the cabinet. Rey turned slowly, brandishing her wand. The hairs of her neck stood on end. Who knew what could live in the dark crevices of the room?

Before Rey could scream, a floating hand appeared from the darkness and covered her mouth. A moment later, the hood of the invisibility cloak dropped to reveal a frowning Ben.

“Ben?” Rey whispered angrily as she pushed away his hand. “Merlin’s beard!”

“How the hell did you end up in detention with Tarkin? You shouldn’t be here Rey.”

“Well, I-”

“Miss Niima,” Professor Tarkin rounded the door’s corner and peered into the shadowy room. In moments Ben had disappeared again. “I can and will keep you here all night. Stop talking to yourself and clean.”

Rey nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

He glared at her incredulously for a moment before turning on his heel and striding away with a swish of his grey cloak. Rey held her breath for a moment before looking at the spot Ben had been only moments before.

“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t being an arse,” She hissed.

“What do you mean?” Ben tipped the cloak’s hood back to reveal his face. It was a bit strange to see only his face just floating there in midair. Even if Rey knew that the rest of his body was still here.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

Ben shook his head.

Rey scowled and gathered bottles off of a dirty shelf. “I waited for you and you didn’t come. And when I left, I ran into Hux and his friends instead. Apparently, Hux made Mitaka follow me.”

“I did hear about that,” Ben murmured.

“I’m guessing you heard about the article as well, then.”

Rey took his silence to mean that he had.  

“If you had just shown up instead of avoiding me for whatever stupid reason, I wouldn’t be here. So the least you could do would be to help me get out of here.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Really? What were you doing then?” Rey laughed miserably. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“Get what?”

Rey opened her mouth to retort but found herself choking on her own words as tears built up in her eyes. Her hand went to the necklace he had given her on Christmas. She hadn’t taken it off since then. She swallowed thickly and went back to sorting through the shelves. “I’m nothing. I’m no one. Nobody.”

His lips pressed into a tight line as his dark eyes drifted away from her. “You heard that.”

“If you don’t want to be friends with me, I’d prefer you say it to my face. Not just… Abandon me. Leave me wondering why and-” Rey fought back her tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was angry at Luke and my mother. I just wanted them...” Ben took a deep breath. “I just want them to see how much it hurts to not be chosen. Or wanted. And I was… Angry at you. For not telling me about Christmas. Hearing it from my mother.”

She refused to look at him, to let him see how hurt she was, even if she was struggling to hide it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show up. I’m not… I’m not used to having friends.”

“I’m not used to it either.” Rey wiped away her tears as she thought of Rose and Finn. Perhaps she had been too harsh with them.

“Really?” Ben asked quietly. “You’re a Hufflepuff.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m any good at it.” Rey set down the bottle in her hand after realizing she had been staring at it and not really looking at it. “Before Hogwarts, I didn’t have anyone. Everyone was scared of me. Or weirded out. ‘Cause all of this weird stuff always happened around me and they were all normal. Muggles. So they blamed me.”

“The only people who want to be my friends think I’m destined to bring darkness to the world.”

“So you get it then.” Rey laughed softly.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Rey swallowed at the gentleness of his voice. She still didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see her own sadness and loneliness reflected back at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Christmas?”

Rey was quiet for a moment as she thought back to that day. How empty she felt without Ben there. How upset he was when she found him. She didn’t want to upset him further. But, a deeper part of her knew her avoidance came from that strange fear that crept into her chest, crushed her lungs, and made it hard to think. She could manage only a shrug.

“Rey-”

“I didn’t want you to be angry with me.” She blurted out. “You’re my friend. I didn’t want to upset you more or- or- I don’t know.”

They were both quiet for a moment and Rey could feel Ben struggling against his emotions. Rey huffed and stared at the boxes she had gathered in front of her. She grumbled softly, “It wasn’t even that fun without you there.”

It was the truth. While she had enjoyed the companies of her Professors and the Minister, she had felt the rift of where Ben was supposed to be.

She could feel Ben’s eyes on her now and hear the mechanics of his brain trying to figure her out. He often did that- get lost in his own head. Think too much. “Are you going to help me or do you want me to stay with Tarkin all night?”

Ben scowled, but he took out his wand and pointed it at the shelves. “ Scourgify.”

In a blink of an eye, a small portion of the shelf had been cleared of decades of grime and grit. Rey’s mouth dropped open as she stared, amazed at his work. “I am never cleaning by hand again. Where does it go?”

“Where… Does… It go?”

Rey raised her brow and stifled a laugh at Ben’s confused face.

“You know, I’ve never thought about it.”

She scoffed playfully, “Wizards.”

In the dim green light, her eyes met Ben’s. They were warm, soft as they looked back at her. No matter what the rest of his face said, Ben’s eyes told the truth. I’m sorry. You’re not no one. Not to me.

Before Ben could protest, Rey stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss to Ben’s cheek. Her stomach erupted into butterflies as she pulled away. Ben stood frozen in front of her.

Bollocks.

Rey laughed nervously. “Er- Tarkin said no magic. So, as much as that helped… I think he’ll notice if the whole place is spotless by the end of the night.”

“Right.” Ben cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll work on gathering up broken bits then.”

“Great!” She agreed a little too brightly. Her voice was far too strained from embarrassment. Rey scooped up the pile of bottles and vials she had gathered and moved closer to a light source to sort through them.

What she failed to see in the dim light was Ben lifting a hand to touch where her lips had been and smiling.

☽✹☾

The rest of the week’s worth of detention passed quickly after that. Every evening after dinner Rey would show up at the potion’s classroom for detention. And every evening, Ben would show up a few minutes later in his invisibility cloak and slip into the storage closet with her.

They had to work quietly by hand to avoid detection by Professor Tarkin, but just having Ben there made time pass all that much faster. By the end of the week, the storage room looked almost beautiful. Due to her time cleaning and polishing the glass on the magical sconces that lit the room, one could actually see what they were looking at on the shelves. Each bottle had been cleaned and clearly labeled before being placed in alphabetical order. They shone like little crystal jewels in the light.

For it being detention, Rey felt remarkably proud of her work. She was almost sad for it to end. Tarkin was terrifying, but her hours in the storage room with Ben were the only hours of peace she could find. The whole school knew of the article; everyone had read it. Hux had been telling everyone that would listen that she was crazy and should be locked up. It had taken her an entire night to talk Ben down from doing something to Hux that would get another article written.

The worst part of it all was that Rey knew once the week was over, she would hardly see Ben the rest of the year. Finals were coming shortly which meant more studying for everyone. They couldn’t risk sneaking off to the Room of Requirement anymore, not with all eyes on the two of them.

She’d be staying at Hogwarts over the summer. Rey had meant it when she said she would never return to the orphanage. Ben, on the other hand, would be traveling with his Uncle Luke to India. Luke was studying the defense systems of Buddist monk wizards and Leia was forcing Ben to go along. According to Ben, she thought that getting Ben out of the country would do him good. Ben was convinced his mother just wanted him far out of the public eye and out of trouble for as long as possible.

Finn and Rose and Rey did their best to make amends. Rey apologized for hiding things from them and they apologized for trying to spy on her. It seemed that they were more than willing to forget about the whole thing. Rey was content to let that happen. To listen to Finn rant about Quidditch and giggle about Poe and hold Rose while she stress-cried over her final Charms paper.

As Winter turned to Spring and Spring to Summer, Rey did everything she was supposed to. She stayed out of trouble and stuck to the rules and eventually the school seemed to forget about Hux and the article. Nothing beyond her detention came of it, though she knew Hux was going nowhere.

Across the hall, Rey watched as Slytherin celebrated their House Cup victory. Though her eyes were not on the hats thrown high into the air or the snotty look Hux was giving everyone but on the only one not celebrating. A boy with dark hair and kind brown eyes who understood her better than anyone.

Their story was not over yet.

Their story was only just beginning.

Read Me On AO3

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Thirteen: Trust in me 

Happy Monday. This completes day thirteen of whumptober: breathe in and breathe out. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: Moments in Time 

“Say hello to your new guardians.”

Peter pulled down the sleeves of his shirt and gave a withered glance at Tony who greeted them with a smirk in the lobby of the hospital. He ignored the flip in his stomach. This was a different Tony All that mattered was finding the truth and if he was a bit giddy from escaping the hospital, well, he wasn’t going to complain.

“Hell, Tony. You work fast when you want to.” 



“What can I say,” He said saddling up to them and throwing his arms around each of their shoulders. “I’m the kind of person who can…”



“Stuff it?” Rhodey added helpfully.

“Fuck off?” Peter said to which Rhodey laughed.

“I can offer my support and guidance to this wrecked youth in need. You imbeciles. It’s not too late to take you back.” He said with a side eye at Peter as Rhodey and him continued to laugh together.

“We have to keep him. I mean he looks so good in the plaid and all.” Rhodey shoved them all so they wobbled over each other’s legs and barely missing the spinning doors. Peter remained squished between them the whole trip to the car. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

-

Unlike so many years ago they arrived at the apartment with the gloom of impending doom. Though he still had a flash of apprehension, this time was fresh. He almost expected to see the door split in two on the floor and broken kitchen table, but there wasn’t a single scuff mark or dented piece of furniture in sight. Not even the fabric of the couch, less faded green than he remembered, was worn from use.

At the hospital it was difficult to believe the he had time traveled but the apartment it was obvious. The rubber pile in the corner turned out to be a clear inflatable seat with glitter. Behind it was a sturdier, more expensive looking chair pushed into the corner. The influence of Rhodey and Tony and their youth, he assumed, was abundant. He often wondered how long they lived in this space.

They settled around the table Peter had last seen in pieces. He grabbed the cups out of the cupboard to pour water.

“What?” He said as he set them down on the table. They eyed each other before Rhodey spoke.  

“How did you know that’s where the cups were?”

Peter looked down at the table clenching his fists in his lap. “Oh, uh, well. That’s just how it was at my house and I assumed the same here. It’s a fairly common cupboard design about 45 percent of people have the cups to the left of the stove.” 



They stared at him and shared another look. Peter watched as Rhodey shrugged.

“Alright.” Tony said clapping his hands to gather them around. “I need to fill you in on the cover story and just make sure everything’s okay with you. This is not an actual kidnapping no matter what my compatriot says.” 



“You thought it sounded cool as well.” Rhodey crossed his arms in front of him.

“Of course, it sounds cooler. Anyway, I want to preface this by saying I can undo any of this if you want. You also don’t have to sign them now, although if someone comes sniffing around it would be better.”

He shifted through the stack of papers laid out on the table and began describing the plan. Tony hadn’t been joking when he mentioned guardians earlier. The guardianship, as far as he could tell from reading through the papers was as legit as his driver’s license. Peter signed his name wondering how legal this all was. Tony was putting the papers away in a matter of minutes.

When he asked how everything wrapped up so quickly Tony said: “I’m rich, kid, and money buys this type of stuff way too easy to be okay with but it does have its advantages. Case in point here.”



“You were right to be worried. The CPS was looking for you. Along with…”

Someone kicked Peter under the table.

“Ow!”

“Oops that was meant for Rhodey.”



“Ow, damn Tony.”

The two devolved into bickering from there and Peter never learned what Rhodey was going to say.

-

The brush moved up and down the wall. It repeated the same motion over and over leaving a trail of evidence on the vertical surface until it dried. He knew what room would be his before they walked him down the hall. There was the bed and dresser but was void of all the decorations that had been hanging when Peter lived there before.

“We’ve just never gotten around to decorating. So, it’s up to you, honestly I couldn’t care less so go all out.”

Peter requested blue paint and bedspread but gave no more direction than that. All three of them dressed in old t-shirts so the painting would go quicker. Peter’s thoughts wandered after the first wall. With every new stroke of paint, he wondered how and if he was changing the future. The possibilities confronted him with every decision no matter the size. He could be changing everything. The time space continuum could be irrevocably destroyed by him eating a bowl of Wheaties in the morning. Not that the apartment was stocked with any healthy cereal.

The worst aspect was the secret voice in his mind that wanted to change everything. He wanted to storm out and never return to the apartment. He longed to stay wrapped up in his new comforter and never leave. He wanted to go see May. Longed to stare at her smile and wrap his arms around him. Would she recognize him somehow in the deepest parts of her? Would their connection transcend time and reality? What was the right choice?

The answer scared him.

The impossibility of the situation was precisely why he was staying inside the apartment as much as he could. This afternoon was paint day.

“Why the long face, Peter?”


“Go away Tony.”



“Well, he’s got a point. You look like you wanted to paint it with lavender and we wouldn’t let you. I knew that lilac would’ve been perfect.” 



“Shut it, Rhodey.” He said with a reluctant smile. Tony stepped toward him and with a flick of his wrist, pointed the paint brush at him. Peter wiped his sleeve along his chin.

“Point to you, Honey Bear. I need to step up my game.”



“What-what do you mean?” Peter dipped his paintbrush into the pot, making sure to wipe one side off before dabbing it into the corner of the wall.

“We’ve got a small bet going to see who can make you smile more. Believe me, kid. It’s harder than it looks. Here I thought I was king of moody but you might take the cake.”

They gave each other high-fives as Peter deadpanned. He should be mad they were betting about him. They were laughing and he agreed, it was ridiculous. Their attempts were absurd and stranger still, it was working. Tony rubbed in the point he won from Peter’s smile. Before he could celebrate Peter jabbed him with the paintbrush staining his shirt with a blue dot. He turned to Rhodey and with some extra strength and a precision throw launched the paintbrush at him.

Both exclaimed and an all-out war ensued.

The room was painted… eventually.

The paint never came out of their clothes.

None of them cared that much.

-

“Did you hear that our esteemed guest. It’s movie night, although I wouldn’t get too excited because it’s Tony’s turn to pick.

“You guys watch without me, I’m not feeling it.”



Peter found out within days of living with their younger versions that Tony was right. He was the king of moody and he was wearing the crown tonight. Only with the promise of cookies and popcorn had he emerged from his room wrapped snug in one of his blankets. Tony snatched the cookie tin away from Rhodey and, with crumbs on his mouth, refused to watch any movie his friend suggested.

“But we didn’t celebrate Christmas Tones. Pllleeease.”

“You know I don’t like it.” 



They sat, arms crossed, staring at each other. Peter shifted his weight between them. He was on his way to make popcorn at Rhodey’s request but Tony’s refusal had put a stop to the plans. He risked a glance at Tony who was still staring daggers at his friend.

May and Ben had seen how Peter struggled with the holidays in the beginning years of living with them. While they never forced cheer on him, they created traditions Peter could find a sense of newness in. Instead of baking gingerbread cookies, they cooked pfeffernusse. Rather than hanging stockings, their faux fireplace was lined with t-shirts they decorated and sewed up at the bottom. Sometimes Christmas wasn’t about Christmas as much as it was about just being with people. Peter had an idea. It just so happened to involve a movie he’d watched with them twenty-five years into the future.

“How about we watch some good old classic horror films. House of Dracula?”

The suggestion was unfair in some ways because he knew Tony only watched horror movies during the holidays. Their conversation at the hospital shed some light on the reason why he refused to watch family films at this time of year. Peter decided not to question if this was a previous tradition or if he was the one to introduce it.

Two hours later found Rhodey snoring – heavy breathing, he insisted – on the couch. Peter and Tony carried the empty dishes into the kitchen. Peter began washing and Tony leaned against the island counter, water in hand.

“Hey, Peter?” Tony handed him the glass but didn’t move away from his side.

“Hmm?”



“How did you know I liked to watch horror movies?”
Peter froze for a moment and began scrubbing again. He forced himself to laugh.

“I didn’t. I picked something not Christmassy but still a movie so Rhodey would be happy.”



Tony hummed. “You’re a strange kid. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” He scrubbed harder.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do I? I don’t know you. Not really. I don’t think I ever did.” The frustration was hot on the back of his neck. Peter rinsed the brush and began scrubbing anew.  “Why do you watch horror movies at Christmas anyway?”

Tony contemplated his words. Timed slowed in that moment. The water dribbled down his wrist and into the sleeve of his sweatshirt, Tony’s foot tapped against the cabinet, and the snores from Rhodey wafted into the room. Finally, he stopped tapping his foot and turned toward Peter.

“It was something my mom and I did. I, uh, didn’t get along with my dad and used to get scared too easily. We would watch them together to conquer that fear I had. It’s stupid but I just never associated Christmas with Christmas growing up.”



“It’s not stupid and, if it means anything, I understand. When I lived with my aunt and uncle we never really celebrated in a traditional sense. I’m sorry I snapped.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s nothing I didn’t deserve. I’m trying not to push but I am me so bear with it while I practice.”



Peter chuckled. Tony had no idea how pushy he was sometimes.

-

Peter choose the wrong one.

It was such a small detail; one he barely noticed was absent on his second introduction to the apartment. Tony had given him a magazine and instructed him to pick any phone he wanted for the living room. He dropped it on Peter’s desk and hurried off not answering his questions about what happened to the last one. Peter gathered from Rhodey that someone, he wasn’t going to snitch, had thrown it out the window.

Yes, out their multistoried apartment window.

Peter flipped through it and then he’d seen the one. It was so cool complete with clear plastic and these colored innards. The neon fidgets inside would move when you were on the phone convinced him so he’d ordered it without a second thought.  

It wasn’t until he awoke in the middle of the night sweat soaked through his shirt that he remembered.  He stumbled to the office and rummaged through the papers in hopes of finding the receipt. Of all the times for someone to organize.  

Damn it.

The phone in the future wasn’t clear with neon accents. It was a hamburger. The phone was in the shape of a hamburger. Would this food shaped communication device be the difference between life and death?

He didn’t know.

It was his fault.

He backed up into the hallway until his back hit the wall.

Peter barely noticed the shaking of his hands but could feel the pins and needles of each breath he took. His breath stalled and built up the pressure in his chest begging to escape out. His fingers tingled. Peter lost track of time.

“Breathe in and breathe out.”

“We’re here… sitting right beside you, Peter.”

“You are here in our apartment. You are Peter Parker. I’m Rhodey. That’s Tony and we are going to be okay.”



Peter came back to himself in slow increments. His back was pressed against the wall. There was cramp in his legs from curling them up to his chest. He stiffened and then relaxed. Two bodies were pressed against each of his shoulders. His head was bent up, resting on Rhodey’s shoulder and his hand was tucked into Tony’s palm between their bodies on the floor.

He didn’t remember his mission or how angry he’d been. All he could think about was the fact he might have ruined it all. He might have taken their future away and it was all his fault. What would happen if he ever went back to the future and these solid presences were no more all because he made a mistake?

Rhodey shifted in his sleep. Peter’s head fell more fully on his shoulder. He breathed in the minty scent and some of the anger he dragged back with him from the future chipped off his heart. Did the truth matter from the future when the Tony and Rhodey from here and now were beside him, comforting him?

Peter closed his eyes and slept.

Thank you!

Next Chapter Fifteen: Down Once More

[ballumsecretvalentine]

Reunion Queen

Happy Valentines Day @basketcase1880 💖

Description: The Ballum Reunion episode missing scenes as told by 3 queen songs.

Fic length: 2000ish words

-1-

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me

You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me

Love of my life, can’t you see?

Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me

Because you don’t know what it means to me.”

Callum sat at the bar in the pub, the hum of lunchtime drinkers swirled around him. Some market boys were laughing in one corner, and the jukebox hummed away behind him. But all he could hear in this head repeating static in time with his racing heart.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

Ben’s last words to him, ever.

Mick walked past and placed a shot of something that look suspiciously like whisky next to his untouched pint and moved on without saying a word.

The landlord had tried to engage him when he had first staggered in, not knowing where else to go after, all but running from the Mitchell house, and Ben’s rejection. But something in his face, the slump of his shoulders had stopped his surrogate father in his tracks, and the conversion had died as quickly as Callums hope, that maybe Ben loved him, had.

Callum had poured everything into that message he sent this morning, everything he felt, everything he would do, how no matter what Ben said that night he still loved him. And how he was desperately sorry for walking out.

He’d been careful of course, he knew the police might check Ben’s phone at some point, and he wasn’t going to say anything incriminating, he would never do anything to put the man he loved at risk but he had been as explicit as he could be. He’d spent all night on it, writing and rewriting, trying to find the words…

And Ben…Ben hadn’t even read it. It hurt so much.

The only flicker of hope left in his broken heart that Ben did care at all, was just how Ben had sounded so broken begging Callum to leave, and the way he had to physical lean out of Callums touch when he had reached for him. When his hands has moved automatically to cradle his face like he had so many times before.

Ben Ben Ben. He wanted to cry his name out loud. Why didn’t he care, why didn’t he love Callum back the way Callum loved him.

Their short time together had meant everything to Callum, he had faced his biggest fear of coming out just for the chance to be with him, and now he was gone, and Callum was alone, out and alone, again. What had it all been for?

It just wasn’t fair. Even over Christmas while he had been a way he held hope, and after he came back he knew knew Ben cared, but what hope could he have if Ben wouldn’t stay.

Callum threw back the whiskey shot and swallowed it hard, forcing the liquid down his already burning throat to try and hold back his tears.

As he took a breath in, the full taste assaulted him and he almost vomited it back straight on to the bar.

He was so used to the taste of whiskey coming via Ben’s lips when they kissed the taste memory burned him like a flame.

Spinning away from the bar he strode to the doors without a look back even as he heard Mick call his name.

He couldn’t hold back the tears for much longer and he needed to be somewhere more private for this breakdown.

Head down, shoving his shaking hands in his pockets he pushed out into the market. He didn’t have any answers for himself only more questions, and the whine of his soul begging Ben to come back to him, as if he could hear it somehow.

-2-

“The Show must go on!

Inside my heart is breaking,

My make-up may be flaking,

But my smile, still, stays on!

Whatever happens, I’ll leave it all to chance.

Another heartache - another failed romance.

On and on!

Does anybody know what we are living for?”

Ben could barely breath as he placed bag after bag into the back of the car.

Reach, pick up, drop. Repeat.

He couldn’t even think about what he was doing, he couldn’t think about what it meant.

How every movement took him away from the ones he loves. Took him away from his gorgeous daughter, who had hugged him so hard he could still feel her tiny hands grip onto him.

Took him away from Callum who had come back to him this morning. God damn him he might have left the other night, but he had come back.

Ben said he didn’t read the text and he didn’t, but he had seen the first few words, it started with "I’m sorry for not..” and he knew he couldn’t read anymore.

“You can’t run Ben.” Again and again Callums voice called to him, just as his body had called Ben’s when he reached for him early. Ben hadn’t had to fight every muscle in his body to lean away rather than lean forward into Callums touch, and it had broken him.

Callum took it as a rejection, if course he did. It was. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Ben’s world was crumbling and he didn’t know what to do.

Bend, pick up, drop. Repeat until all the bags were in, and finally it was his turn.

Step by step he followed Lisa and Louise into the car. Acting on autopilot.

His not sure how the wallet ends up in his hands but he had found himself just holding it more often than he wants to admit, almost as if just touching the leather that he knew Callum had picked for him, got embroidered for him, picked a special picture for him, would bring him closer to him.

He couldn’t even bring himself to smile at the picture if Lexi, her brilliant smile beaming at him, how… How can he do this?

His hands start to shake, when out of the corner of his eye he sees Callum exiting the pub, and his heart breaks into two.

It’s done it before he knows what it feels like. Losing Paul broke him the first time, and now losing Callum and Lexi will break him again if he lets it.

His long abused heart can’t do this again, there’s only so many times he can patch it up. He can’t live like that.

“S…stop the car.”

-3-

“This thing called love I just can’t handle it

This thing called love I must get round to it

I aint ready

Crazy little thing called love!”

It was evening by the time they got a second to themselves.

From the moment they had crashed into Lola and Lexi in the market, the world still spinning, they hadn’t been allowed out of their sight.

Callum didn’t mind, not truly, Lexi had been so pleased to see her dad again, and Lola just looked like she had been ready to tie Ben to the nearest object to stop him from going again if he even looked towards the door.

Callum understood the impulse.

They had gone back to Lola’s and Jays had dinner, and talked casually in front of Lexi, a show of normality and calmness that none of them really felt. But even in the falseness of some of it Callum still felt more at home and more relaxed than he had since Christmas.

There was the added bonus that Ben hadn’t let go of him once since that bruising kiss in the market. His hand tangled their fingers together, his foot had stroked his ankle under the table, his arm laid on callums thigh when they had relaxed on the sofa. The almost constant contact was something they both needed.

But now they walked in silence through the streets leaving shortly after Lexi had gone to bed. So much needing to be said between them, but neither was in any hurry to approach it.

Callum squeezed Ben’s hand in his and felt Ben squeeze back. They were together and right now that was enough.

-

Ben collapsed onto Callums sofa the moment they were through the door with a heavy sigh.

He had missed being here, and when Callum had headed this way after leaving Lola’s Ben had been secretly relieved.

He had no desire to go to an empty home and face reality right now, he just wanted to feel this ridiculous bubbly feeling he got whenever he was with Callum.

Callum dropped by the kitchen before joining him on the sofa with a couple of beers.

His arm rested on the back of the sofa, and Ben glared at the space between them, he moved slowly giving Callum plenty of time to stop him and sunk against the man.

He let out a deep breath when Callums arm dropped around his shoulder and pulled him in either tighter.

The action brought tears of relief to Ben’s eyes, but he still has to check. “Is this okay,” he whispered against Callums chest. *Are we okay,“ he was really asking and he needed to hear the answer.

Callum sounded like he huffed away a laugh before he squeezed Ben’s shoulder.

“Are you crazy, I thought I was going to lose you, and now you’re here. It’s.. it’s everything.”

His voice broke a little and Ben had to bite his lip to keep his own emotions from spilling across the floor like a tree dropping it’s leaves in autumn.

“I couldn’t.. couldn’t go,” Ben admitted “I…I…need you.”

Those weren’t the words on his tongue, he wanted to say something else but it got stuck in his throat and Ben just couldn’t find them. He might know what the words should have been but he couldn’t voice them.

Callums head rested on top of his, his chest deflating under Ben just enough then Ben knew he had hoped for those lost words too.

“I…need you too.” Callum promised and for a second Ben had wondered if he was going to use the words Ben couldn’t, and taunt him with them. But of course not, this was Calum, his man made of sunshine, he would never be cruel. Ben caught the ridiculous smile crossing his face.

As Ben struggled closer he caught a smell of Callums aftershave and it made his stomach flip. It was his favourite, and he couldn’t help wonder if Callum had put it on for him this morning.

He ran his hand across Callums stomach, a new way to prove those unspoken words stoked fresh in him. Holding his breath his fingers on Callums buttons, waiting to see how the other man would react.

Callum just kisses the top of his head gently, and interlocks there hands again.

“We have time,” he whispers and Ben sighs a little in sadness and a lot in relief his tired, so tired, and as much as he would have bent himself over backwards, literally if needed, if Callum had responded more physically, he was also content to just rest for now. Rest in his man’s arms, safe and secure and loved.

Sometime later Callum’s arm disappears from his shoulder only to return a second later pulling the purple blanket from the back of the sofa over them both.

“Stay?” Callum asked a hint of concern in his voice as Ben shuffled at his movement.

“Yes” Ben promised no hesitation now, and not just talking about tonight. “For you, For us”

He was certain he could feel Callums smile radiating through their bodies, as he added “For love.” silently in his head.

[wewillwriteyou]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 10

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 10: Christmas is coming and some people go, others stay at the campus. But what if, as it always happens, plans will change last minute? And what if ‘these plans’ are none other than Ben’s plans?

Word count: 5.2K+

Warnings: Language here and there, but this chapter is mainly fluff / descriptions, so safe territory everyone

A/N: This chapter is indeed one of our favourites, folks! We loved writing it, so we do hope you’ll like as much as we do! 💛 xx

Tuesday, 24 December 2019

The Sorceress was right: he had leaped without looking. Leaped into something that was bigger than him and any of us mortals. Suddenly, a plan unravelled before his eyes. To fix everything. To make amends. This time he knew he couldn’t do it by himself. He needed help.

The alarm going off made him jump off the bed. He turned it off fast but not fast enough to prevent Rami from waking up.

“Sorry mate,” Ben apologised to his roommate as he pulled a suitcase from under his bed.

“It’s Christmas Eve – Rami mumbled, rolling on the other side of his bed – did you need to set a goddamn alarm today?”

“It’s almost twelve…” Ben observed, chuckling.

“Yeah, but still… Christmas Eve…” Rami complained, using his pillow to cover his ears.

“My dad’s picking me up in an hour – Ben shook his head chuckling and threw him a cushion – we’re going to Italy on the annual ski trip”

“Right, - Rami threw the pillow back and got up, stretching his spine – how did he convince Miss New Americana?”

Ben rolled his eyes, chuckling lightly. Miss New Americana was his dad’s fiancée and she was… not easy, to be nice. Something of a bitch, to be honest.

When his parents were still together, the Hardy’s would always go to Italy in the winter break and Ben only had happy memories of that time.

After Ben’s mom died just as he was starting college, he and his dad went on the ski trip on their own for a couple of years. And then he met Linda, a sparkling pink American who inexplicably made his dad happy but who was clearly more interested in his dad’s money than she was in his actual happiness.

That would have been the first year someone outside the family had joined their trip and Linda didn’t seem like the type of person who liked to… mess up her hairstyle with sky goggles.

“I suppose he’s gonna tell her we’re gonna go to Milan to go shopping and then listen to her complaints during the whole trip once she realises he lied to her” Ben answered, making Rami chuckle from the bathroom.

Rami closed the water and emerged from the bathroom with the towel around his neck, “Are you gonna survive with her there?”

“No Rami, - Ben stopped and pointed a finger at him – the question is: is she gonna survive with me there?”

Rami laughed, “Oh God, you’re gonna be your own first client, Mr lawyer…”

They were both laughing when Ben’s phone rang and his dad’s number appeared on the screen.

“Yeah dad, I’m almost ready, what time are you gonna be here?”

Rami got out of his pijama and went through his drawers to find a shirt, he could tell something had happened by Ben’s facial expression. He watched him slowly put the wool socks back on the bed, out of the suitcase, and sit on the mattress.

“You must be joking. Tell me you’re joking.” Ben harshly said on the phone and Rami mouthed him a ‘what’ but Ben just shook his head.

“Dad, you know she’s just playing you, right? Are you still falling for her crap?” Ben rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and let it fall on his side.

“I cannot believe you’re taking her side…”

Rami walked up to him and sat on his bed while buttoning up his shirt.

Ben was defeated. His dad was one of the best lawyers in the UK, after all. He let his head fall forward and hid his face in the palm of the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Fine – he blurted out, interrupting his dad on the other side – Do whatever she says. I don’t care. I hope you two are gonna be happy.”

He was about to hang up when, “Oh, and I’m glad to hear I’m the only one of us to still give a shit about mom.”

Hitting the red button, he ended the call and threw the phone into the suitcase. He brought his hands to his face and rested his elbows on the knees, exhaling frustrated.

“I can’t believe her – he began – when he told her about the trip she flipped out and caused a scene in the middle of his Christmas dinner party and threatened to leave him and go back to her parents and my dad, being the dumbass that he is, told her they didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to…”

Ben exhaled tiredly, even if he’d just woken up.

“What a manipulative bitch… - Rami commented – I’m sorry, man”

Ben got up again and began unpacking, “Yeah, I know”

“You can come with me and my folks… I can try booking you a last-minute ticket to Egypt”

“Thanks, Rami, but I don’t think it’s possible… and in any case, I’d feel like an outsider with you and your family”

“You know my parents love you,” Rami patted on his shoulder before going to the wardrobe again to pick out his trousers.

Ben half smiled, “Thanks, man”

An effusive knock on the door interrupted them.

Rami opened the door and an impeccably dressed Lucy made her entrance.

“Happy Christmas Eve boys,” she kissed him on the cheek and went up to Ben to place a kiss on his lips.

She noticed Ben was unpacking and frowned, “Aren’t you supposed to be already packed? – she shot a look at Rami and he shook his head while looking down – What happened?”

Ben exhaled and threw his last T-shirt on the duvet, “Linda. That’s what happened…”

Lucy placed a hand on his back and brushed it soothingly, “I’m sorry, babe… you can always come at my parents’ if you want”

“Thanks, Luce, but I think I’m not in the mood…” Ben walked away to put his clothes back in his drawers, letting Lucy’s hand fall back to her side.

She furrowed her eyebrows, “So where ‘re you gonna go?”

Ben closed the wardrobe and put his hands in his pockets, “I think I’ll stay here…”

“Here? – Lucy shrieked – You wanna be alone at Christmas?”

Ben huffed, “I’m not gonna be alone, Luce. There’s a lot of people who don’t go home for Christmas and I know they’re throwing a small party tonight at the cafeteria… more like a Christmas dinner for the ones who cannot have one with their families and-”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Lucy cut him off. Steam was already bowling up in her head and she had to force herself to listen to what he had to say instead of storming out of the room.

“What? No, Lucy I-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ben, I know you’re not telling me something and I plead you tell me before I walk out of that door or I won’t be coming back”

“Alex’s gonna be at her parents for the holidays… – Rami jumped in – She was telling Elizabeth the other day at rehearsal. She’s leaving tonight…”

Lucy moved her eyes from Rami to Ben, “That doesn’t answer my question, though”

She knew Ben better than she knew herself and he was hiding something. Since the beginning of the month, she had noticed that something was off with him. He talked less and missed a couple of rehearsals. He hung out more with his canoeing team than with the cast of the musical. And more importantly, he’d been avoiding physical contact as much as he could.

Lucy knew something had happened with Alex, she just knew.

Since that kiss on stage, she hadn’t believed a word he had told her. He swore it didn’t mean anything and he was just acting but she smelled the lie from miles away.

Lucy distinctly remembered Ben kissing her like that, with that passion… but it had stopped ages ago. And she had been fine with it because she had always been told that after the excitement of the beginning, it was normal to lose the spark in a relationship and ‘get used’ to the routine.

Seeing him having the same spark they had with another woman had nearly driven her crazy.

She refused to believe they were done. She couldn’t accept the idea she was losing him. Ben. They had been through so much together and she knew for sure her parents were already looking into wedding halls for when they’d graduate. They had not-so-discretely told her they needed to be together because ‘it was good to the families’ on countless occasions.

And even though all of the above was true, she still needed to know what had happened so she could dump his ass before he could do it with her. She refused to be the cheated loser who got dumped by Ben Hardy. God, my parents are gonna kill me, was the only thought that circled inside her head.

She struggled in keeping up her stone-cold bitch façade, but she felt like she was crumbling to pieces and she knew she couldn’t have held it much longer.

Ben almost involuntarily glanced at the dresser by the door and Lucy followed his gaze.

The picture of them at the first canoeing race he ever won was sitting in its frame, the glass completely shattered.

“What happened to that picture?” she asked, her voice squeaky.

“Crap,” Rami muttered under his breath and walked away from the couple, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Lucy stared at the broken glass, her mouth agape, “Did she do this?” her voice feeble.

Ben looked at his feet, running miles in his head to find a plausible answer that wouldn’t completely shatter their relationship.

“Fucking say something, Ben!” Lucy shouted.

“It was an accident! – Ben shouted back, still averting her eyes – Alex had come by and-”

“That’s all I needed,” Lucy cut him off and aimed to the door, but Ben blocked her arm.

“Let go of me,” she wriggled her arm away.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, I really am-”

“For what Ben, uh? For wrecking our first memory as boyfriend and girlfriend? For cheating on me? Or for me founding out about you two? Uh?”

Ben didn’t know what to say.

“You bastard,” Lucy’s voice broke as she completed those last words and while Ben stood there she opened the door.

She walked out, but before shutting the door behind her she turned one more time, “Rot in hell, Ben Hardy”.

With that said Lucy slammed shut the door on their relationship.

It was over.

Ben walked back to his bed and sat there staring at the floor.

“Jeez mate,” Rami emerged from the bathroom.

Ben looked up to him, “You heard everything I suppose…”. Rami nodded.

Ben scoffed, “What have I done, man?”

“Well, to be honest… a fucking mess” Rami sat in front of him and Ben emitted a bittersweet chuckle.

“Thanks… – Ben brushed a hand in his hair – What do I do now?”

Rami exhaled, “How much do you need me to be honest?”

Ben looked at him and realised Rami was probably the only person who knew him well enough to give him advice on this, “100%. Shoot.”

Rami nodded, “Listen, Ben, you’re my best mate and you choose complete honesty so I have to tell you… You acted like a dick.”

Ben sarcastically chuckled, “Well thanks, man, I needed that…”

“Let me talk…” Rami shushed him, “You acted like a dick with both Lucy and Alex. You cheated on Lucy, knowing all the shit you two had been through and you lied to her about the kiss with Alex on stage. You deluded Alex you two could be together without telling her that you still hadn’t talked to Lucy and you had no intention of doing it soon…”

Ben was staring at the floor, feeling all the horrible things he’d done stabbing his back like daggers.

“So now you have to do only one thing and you have two ways to do it… - Rami continued – You have to make things right with both of them and you can either choose to run after Lucy or go talk to Alex. Your choice.”

Ben finally looked up at him and saw a half-smile on Rami’s face, meaning that he’d support either of his choices. Like he had always done.

He smiled, “Thanks, Rami”. They both got up and Ben hugged him, suddenly knowing what to do.

He walked away from his friend, picked up his phone, jacket and keys and headed to the door.

“I’ll probably be gone by the time you’re back, – Rami said, making Ben turn to look at him – so don’t do anything stupid. And keep out of trouble.”

Ben smiled, “Merry Christmas, mate”

As he closed the door behind him he heard Rami shouting Merry Christmas asshole back to him. He chuckled to himself and let his feet walk him in the only direction he wanted to go.

***

“So you’re telling me you’ll spend New Year’s Eve here?”, Denise tucked her phone between her head and shoulder and picked up her books, then headed towards the library’s exit.

“Apparently so,” Gwilym was cheerier than she’d expected and it made her smile to herself.

“That’s cool… – she tried to keep a straight tone while dodging the people in the corridor and finally stepping outside the building – Well, let me know when you’re gonna be here. We could… grab a bite… and maybe wait for New Years in the main hall with the others…”

Gwilym smiled widely, “I would love that”

Denise was able to contain her joy only because of the books she was holding. She was actually jumping around inside her head.

As she proceeded on the sidewalk of the 9th dormitory, she noticed a familiar puff of blond hair waving at her from the distance.

“Listen, Gwil, I’ll call you back.” She hung up the phone and fished it not without some struggle in her pocket.

“Hi, Ben… What are you doing here?”

“Hey Denise, – he sounded nervous and after everything Alex had told her, she didn’t know how what to think of him – I was looking for Alex and I know she lives here, but I don’t know her room… Is there any chance you could tell me?”

Denise furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes, “And why should I tell you that?”

Ben was confused at first, but then he realised Alex had probably told her what had happened between them.

“Listen, Denise – he started, brushing his hair nervously – I need to speak to her as soon as possible. She hasn’t picked up my calls in weeks and, besides that, I need to do this in person… I wanna make things right, trust me. I’m here to make things right.”

Denise stared at him and he did look desperate. She knew Alex would have killed her, but she decided to trust her instinct, “The room is 986. Second floor, west end of the corridor.”

Ben let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Thank you”.

He patted her on the shoulder and smiled, before climbing the steps to the building.

“Don’t make me regret this, Hardy” she shouted before he could enter and he turned to wave as if to say ‘promise’.

Ben eluded security and ran towards the stairs, jumping two steps at a time. He was so focused on arriving in time that he couldn’t think of anything to say to her face.

When he got to the door, he almost hesitated to knock.

Suck it up Hardy, he said to himself and rapidly knocked on the wooden surface, eagerly waiting for an answer.

“Who is it?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s Ben,” he cleared his voice.

The door opened and Elizabeth emerged with only her head from behind it, a nervous smile on her face, “Hey Ben, what are you doing here?”

Ben looked her up and down and hesitated for a second, wondering who was she waiting for that made her so nervous.

“Uhm, I was looking for Alex… I need to talk to her urgently”

Elizabeth’s expression changed, “Oh, ehm… she left last night to go to her parents… I’m sorry”

“Oh,” he lowered his gaze as to think about a backup plan. He had not seen that coming. He looked up to Elizabeth again, “They live in town right? Do you know the address?”

“Wow, well Ben you’re asking me a lot…” Elizabeth inadvertently opened the door more and he took it as an invitation to walk inside.

He looked around and noticed that only one bed was undone, sign that at least one of the roommates had probably not slept there that night.

The girl closed the door with a scoff and he squared her up and down. She was wearing a large t-shirt that was most certainly not hers and that only barely covered her super short shorts.

Elizabeth scoffed again and crossed her arms on her chest, “Eyes up here, Hardy… - he recomposed himself but couldn’t hide a smirk. She was evidently waiting for someone – What you’re asking me is betraying a friend. A friend that clearly doesn’t want to hear from you… or she would have picked up at least one of your calls, wouldn’t she?”

Ben looked at his feet and brought a hand on the back of his neck, looking for a good excuse as to why Elizabeth should have trusted him.

When he was about to speak, the noise of water starting and stopping right after interrupted the silence.

Ben looked at the girl with a confused and way too amused face, “If Alex’s not here… who’s in there?”

He watched her gasping for words and then hiding her face behind her palms when the bathroom door opened.

Joe emerged from the door frame in pijama pants, with no t-shirt on and a towel around his neck. He widened his eyes as soon as he registered what was going on.

Ben’s eyes widened as well and he brought a hand to his mouth in disbelief. He darted his look between the two of them and a smirk gleamed on his lips, as he did the math: Joe’s pants and Elizabeth’s t-shirt were undoubtedly two pieces of a whole pijama.

“Oh shit,” was the only thing Joe could say.

“Oh my God… – Ben snickered – what the fuck’s going on here?”

Joe glanced at Elizabeth but she was still hiding behind her hands. She peeked from between her fingers and she could see the two boys staring at her. She let her hands fall and huffed.

“We are both staying here for Christmas and both roommate-less… - Liz hoped the phrase would complete itself, but when she saw Ben nodding in her direction, asking to continue, she rolled her eyes – Joe moved in here for the holidays”

Ben laughed out loud, earning a punch on the arm from the girl, “Cut it out, Hardy.”

She knew she should have been more worried about someone knowing that a guy was sleeping in the female dormitory, but when she caught Joe who had started breaking as well, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fine, - she conceded recomposing herself – but you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

Ben tried pushing down the laughter and nodded forcefully, clearing his throat, “Don’t worry… Your little secret is safe with me…”. He winked at Elizabeth, unable to hide his wily smirk.

“There’s no secret – Joe blurted out, his face more nervous than he cared to admit – Nothing happened here…”

“Right, – Ben nodded condescendingly – and she’s wearing your tee because she doesn’t have any clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the redness that was spreading on both their faces. They were so cute, both embarrassed and awkward every time he suggested there was something between them.

It was crystal clear to his eyes that there was something there and he smiled to himself, wishing he and Alex had taken things as slowly as they had. Because it was evident to him now that there had always been something else besides friendship between Joe and Elizabeth. All those stolen glances he had caught during rehearsal and the way Joe had reacted when he’d seen Elizabeth kissing Gwilym. It was not casual.

Only after a few seconds, he realised that whatever had happened in that room, they probably hadn’t talked about it yet.

“Listen, guys, - he started, - I’m not here to mess around… I have to talk to Alex. I screwed things up and I want to make them right, now that I have the chance. I need to make things right.”

Joe and Elizabeth shared a glance.

“Can you please help me? – Ben continued – I’ll keep your secret, I swear. Just please, will you help me?”

Elizabeth glanced at Joe again and he nodded as to say ‘it’s your call’.

She exhaled, “I’ll write it down for you – Ben let out a breath of relief, but Elizabeth continued – but you have to swear on everything you’ve got that you will not make me regret helping you.”

Ben forcefully nodded, “Sure, I swear. I do”

“And you have to shut your mouth about what you just saw,” Joe jumped in.

Again, Ben nodded and watched as Elizabeth picked up her phone and texted him the address.

“Thank you. For real,” he said to both of them.

Elizabeth half-smiled, “You’re welcome, Hardy. Now get out of here before I change my mind…”

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Ben said with a chuckle, before patting Joe on the shoulder and sprinting towards the door.

As it closed behind him, Joe turned to Elizabeth, “You know you sent Alex a ticking time bomb right?”

She sat down on the bed, thinking that Joe was probably right and that Alex would have killed her for what she’d done. But she also knew Ben and Alex were both secretive, big-headed people that lived in the fear of letting someone close.

Well, sometimes people like them needed a small push to take the leap.

Elizabeth chuckled to herself, “Yeah, that’s my Christmas present.”

***

“I told you, it’s not just another musical. It will be very important for my extra credits and, besides, I get to play the piano in front of the whole campus which is the closest I’ve ever gotten to a concert” Alex replied, shrugging her shoulders and placing the carrots on the cutting board.

“Thank you, dear,” her mom said and Alex smiled, kissing her on the temple. It was Christmas Eve’s afternoon, but Christmas dinner was already taking its form on the stove.

“Still find it useless, you could be studying other stuff instead of wasting your time playing a witch” her brother Jason commented.

“Oh, like economy? Like you, Jay? ‘m sorry to disappoint you, but my place will never be behind a computer typing on the board all day” Alex sassily replied, raising her left eyebrow.

“And where’s your place, Alex?” Jason used his smart-ass tone, that knew would have bothered his sister for days.

Alex inhaled sharply and walked towards the table where Jason was sat at. She put her hands on the marble surface and leaned down until her eyes were looking straight into his.

“In front of thousands of people, that cheer my name”

“Like mother like daughter – their father appeared in the kitchen, still wearing the gloves he had used to collect the firewood – she always used to say she would have sold theatres and would have danced for the Queen,” he proudly continued, hugging his wife from behind.

“And that’s exactly what I did. Apart from the exhibition in front of the Queen”, the woman chuckled, turning her head to place a brief kiss on her husband’s lips.

Alex looked at them and sincerely smiled, before turning in her brother’s direction.

“You see: a dancer, a conductor – she started, indicating their parents – a wanna-be musician – she went on indicating herself – and then there’s you, an accountant” she ended her sentence indicating Jason.

They all started to giggle.

“How many times will I have to hear this story?” Jason asked, defeated.

“Until mom and dad admit you’ve been adopted, there’s no other explanation to me” Alex joked, messing his hair up. He pushed her away and they cackled again.

“It would be weird to discover that at thirty years old, don’t you think so?”

“There’s always time for new discoveries. Am I wrong dad?” Alex said, walking closer to her mom and stealing a carrot to munch it.

“You’re absolutely right, my dear” the man answered, winking at his daughter and walking out of the kitchen to go and light the fire up inside the fireplace.

The two women started to laugh, while Jason rolled his eyes getting up to help his dad with the wood. Alex’s mom scrolled her head and kissed her daughter’s forehead.

“Let me help you,” Alex said, taking the knife from her hand.

All of a sudden, while the two men were struggling with the fire in the living room and Alex was cutting vegetables for her mother, the doorbell rang.

“George, are you expecting someone?” Alex’s mom shouted from the kitchen.

“No, Eveline, I’m not. Christ, why won’t it light up?” her husband answered in a rush, before starting to insult the wood that did not want to burn.

“I’ll go and see who’s it,” Alex promptly said, and her mother thanked her before going back to cook.

She cast a glance at the salon and could not contain a hushed chuckle that escaped her lips in seeing her dad so pissed kneeling in front of the fireplace and an even more pissed Jason standing behind him.

She scrolled her head and toddled towards the door.

Alex did not know whom she was expecting to find; maybe a family’s friend, or the postman, or even one of their relatives that had decided to surprise them. She was sure of only one thing: she surely would’ve not expected to find him.

“Ben! – her welcoming smile fading away from her lips in the exact moment she opened the door and saw him, standing there – how … what ar-”

“It’s over. Between me and Lucy, it’s over” he cut her off and let out in a rush.

He seemed out of breath as if he had run a marathon to get there in time. His coat was unbuttoned and his scarf was carelessly entangled around his neck, while the keys of his car were dangling from his index finger.

Alex opened her mouth and, looking behind her back, she took a step outside to have some ‘privacy’.

“Ben, I … that’s … I mean, I don’t think it’s the right time to have this conversation” Alex stuttered and had to cough halfway into the sentence to recompose her tone.

Her heart was jumping at the sight of him, but her brain was sending thousands of warning signs. She had to think about the way she had felt when she left his room that day, the way she had felt every other day at rehearsals when she had to pretend nothing had happened.  

Ben slightly nodded and looked down to the ground for a brief instant, while a few snowflakes graciously fell on his blonde hair.

“It’s just, that… ‘ve missed you, Alex. And I know I screwed everything up, but … you know, when this morning Lucy walked out of my bedroom I felt I finally had a choice,”

He paused again, finding the strength to look into Alex’s eyes.

“And I choose you” he then confessed.

A long stripe of frozen breath flew out from the corner of his mouth and, while he was breathing, free from the burden he had carried on his chest, Alex, at those words, felt as if her lungs had stopped functioning.

“Ben – she started, unsure on what saying after – I think it’s better if we talk about all of this after the holidays” her tone was cold. Glacial.

Panic had taken over her body and her insecurities had immediately built a barrier to shield her, cutting Ben out once again.

“There’s my whole family inside, it’s not the right time for this. You understand that right?” she proceeded when she noticed Ben had not dared to speak a word yet.

“I understand – he echoed her, nodding – Merry Christmas, then” and saying that, he turned on his heels and walked towards his car.

Alex felt tears reaching her eyes and had to look up to push them away. When she decided to reserve one last gaze at Ben, she noticed he was struggling with the car’s ignition.

He punched the steering wheel and exited the car.

“It doesn't start-up,” he said, letting his arms fall loose by his sides.

“Are you joking?! – Alex shouted, feeling her heart pumping harder inside her chest; when he scrolled his head, she knew she didn’t have any choice – come inside” she surrendered.

Ben’s chin touched the ground as he tried, and failed, to hide the big smile that was now adorning his face. Alex opened the door for him and let him step inside first.

“I talk, you keep your mouth shut!” she threatened him and, as an answer, Ben pretended to zip his lips.  

“Alex, who was at the … oh, hi” Jason appeared from the living room and grinned at the scene in front of his eyes. Soon, their parents too emerged from the salon and the kitchen and Alex felt as if she was under the spotlight.  

“Ehm, this is Ben, a friend from college – she cleared her throat and felt her mouth go drier – his car broke down”

“Oh, that’s terrible!” Alex’s mom immediately commented.

“One of my friends is a mechanic! I’ll call him and tell him to come here and have a look” Alex’s dad, promptly suggested.

“No need to rush, sir. Really. No one is expecting me at home, so I’m in no hurry” Ben almost innocently replied in front of all that kindness, not thinking about how terrible his situation sounded from outside.

Alex had snapped her head in his direction, not sure she had heard correctly. When Ben met her worried gaze, he immediately said:

“Not a big deal, no need to be preoccupied. Everything is… fine”

“Don’t be ridiculous, no one should be alone on Christmas! You can stay here with us. Alex what do you think?” her mom kindly offered and Alex could not stop the redness that spread all over her cheeks.

Jason smirked when she saw her blushing.

Alex looked up at Ben, who shrugged his shoulder and she found herself sighing in defeat.

Her heart had won another match.  

“You can stay. If you want”

On Ben’s lips crept a smile so big, that he thought he would have burst of happiness in a couple of seconds.

“I can’t even find the words to thank you right now,” he then said, diverting his eyes from Alex to her family.

“Oh don’t worry, dear. It’s a pleasure – Alex’s mum said walking closer to hug him – George, Jason, ask him if he needs help with the luggage and Alex, come in the kitchen and add one more seat for tonight’s dinner” she added, plucking Ben’s cheek.

“At your orders” Jason answered and took his coat. Once he was close enough, he elbowed Alex who reserved him an immediate middle finger.

Ben laughed under his breath and it was in that moment that Alex thought about one thing. She took him by the sleeve of the jacket and, as he was about to step out and guide Alex’s brother and dad to his car, she pulled him down and whispered:

“How did you know my address?”

Ben flushed and, nervously adjusting his scarf, he caressed the back of his neck and replied:

“That’s actually a pretty funny story”

-

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[thosequeenboys]

Love Is Love Is Love - Chapter 1 (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello)

Summary: Chapter 1: Missed:  Ben returns from a last-minute trip to a joyful reunion on New Year’s Eve.

A/N:  This is for the Hardzzello Week “Missing” prompt.  I loved imagining this story unfold and writing it, so much that I have Chapter 2 almost completed and Chapter 3 in the works for this love story series! Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. Bolded text is referenced at the end. Other writings featuring Joe and Ben (together and individually) - and those Queen boys, of course, can be found in my Masterlist

Warning:  Brief non-explicit description of sex, mild angst, lots of fluff

tagging: @warriorteam1924 @heybuddy-drabbles @hey-holtzy @lapofthemusicgods @nightoftheland @halfasleepoetry @roger-taylors-car @joemazzhello

Chapter 1: Missed

The warm house Ben entered buzzed with the New Year’s Eve version of Mazzello Fest.  It was just before noon when he arrived, having returned from a sudden trip to London for family business.  The trip went well, but had coincided with the lead up to Christmas and the holiday itself.  He was pleased to have joined in time for the New Year’s celebration at Joe’s mom’s house.

Hearing the car door slam, Joe met Ben eagerly at the front door and helped him out of his coat, moving his luggage to the side of the spacious foyer.  Some of Joe’s family members called to Ben from the kitchen in the back where they gathered at the large table: “Hey Ben, Welcome. Come in.  Get some snacks.”

Ben and Joe embraced. Ben’s arms settled around Joe’s neck, his fingers angling into his hair.   Joe pulled Ben in closely, his arms stretched around Ben’s slender waist moving to his lower back.  They took each other in and held each other tightly, their lips finding each other’s necks and cheeks.  Quiet, satisfied moans escaped their mouths.

“Can I get you anything?” Joe asked, peeling his upper half from Ben, as his hands made their way into the back pockets of the blonde’s jeans.  Joe pressed deeper into the pockets and kneaded him gently, maintaining eye contact with his gorgeous green eyes. 

At another time, they would have kissed passionately, Ben’s hands finding Joe’s back pockets too.  They would have danced each other somewhat clumsily amidst laughs to the bedroom, hastily removing shoes and socks, bringing themselves to the center of the bed.  From there, they would flip each other over and over on the bed, taking turns laying on top of one another and on knees in front and behind each other, covering every inch, all angles of the soft sheeted surface.  They’d remove articles of clothing from each other as the positions allowed, while stealing kisses, caresses and nips on newly exposed skin. They’d delight in each other’s bodies, eager to express their love.  For now, Joe felt grateful that his husband had returned, and he accepted the fact that their skillful bed acrobatics would have to wait, yet again.

“Thanks, Love.”  Ben replied, his arms now on Joe’s shoulders, returning the gaze. “I could use some joe truthfully. I’m so beat, gotta wake up.” Ben craned his neck to scope out the pockets of activity around the house as voices ricocheted off the walls.

“You got him,” Joe smirked, separating from Ben, flipping his hand up with a dramatic flair and dragging it alongside his torso down to his legs.

“Hmmm, very nice. I mean the caffeinated variety.” Ben responded with a smile. His eyes darted to the living room off the foyer from which a lot of activity emanated.

“Ah, Ok,”  Joe said with a wink, relaying the standard order:  “Cuppa Joe, one sugar, light with almond milk, in a big mug, coming right up.”

Joe’s face became very serious.  He grasped Ben’s hands tightly.  “I’ve missed you so much…,” he stared into Ben’s eyes and took a breath, before continuing.  Ben gazed back at him, but was distracted by the raised noise level in the living room that was now punctuated by high squeals and laughter.

“I..I need to ...” Ben said urgently to Joe.

“I know,” Joe interrupted him softly with a warm smile and nod, abandoning the rest of his comment.

Ben smiled back and winked at Joe, releasing him, and then walked through the partially open French doors to the living room.  

Games and toys were strewn over the carpet.  The young players were in various postures behind their chosen amusements, their concentration broken by jolts of laughter and banter.  Heads turned as Ben entered. 

Suddenly, a small slender boy in blue sweat pants and a plaid button-down shirt in multiple blue hues bolted to Ben with outstretched arms.

Ben swept him up in a hug, holding him tightly, burying his face in the small collarbone and turning around slowly to seal the moment. Joe stepped into the room, looking on, and finished the rest of his sentiment under his breath.  “He missed you too.”

“Hey Buddy, I missed you so much.” Ben choked out, his voice rising, emotion overtaking him.

“Daddy!!!” The boy said, burying his head in the crook of Ben’s neck, as his arms grasped around it.

Ben stood still and held him tightly, planting kisses along the soft forehead, cheeks and chin, swaying from leg to leg as he spoke. “Alexander. Francis. Jones-Mazzello.  All days are nights to see till I see thee. And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.” (1)

Ben silently rejoiced and luxuriated in the familiar feeling, wanting time to stand still for just a little while.  A little over 24 months ago, he had no idea this feeling existed, and even now, he could not fully describe it. His love for Joe was infinite and deep, passionate and strong, but his love for this -his- child, Alex, was like none he had ever known. There was a wholeness to his life now he hadn’t known was missing. This relationship gave him fulfillment beyond any measure of professional achievement. And, damn, he was so fun to be around! And, Ben had to admit sheepishly, as Alex was often referred to as Ben’s Mini Me, so beautiful to behold.

Ben’s heart had never felt so full as when he was with this boy.  His angst was never as great as when he was unhappy or in any discomfort.   Ben still had not fully recovered from the night many months ago when the fever suddenly spiked to over 102.  Joe calmly said they needed to go to the hospital right away, hastily packing the bag, his eyes showing a concern that belied his calm voice and actions. At the hospital Joe spoke in depth with the doctor. Ben picked up snippets as he draped himself over the tiny body in the bassinet, touching him with cool hands and bargained with a greater power to have the fever enter him instead.  That ordeal was just one demonstration of Joe as a loving and responsive father and partner who grounded them all, and it was one of the scariest times of Ben’s life. The fever did break late the next evening, and life soon resumed its toddler-focused activities and routines.

Being separated from Alex, as Ben’s work necessitated, required tremendous compartmentalization. Sure, they FaceTimed, but it could not substitute for experiencing the world unfolding side-by-side.  The longing born from separations created a dent in Ben’s heart that never fully went away. Even when they reunited, it stayed as a reminder to cherish the times together and imprint them.  Another, longer trip loomed in the new year, but Ben didn’t let that thought enter this sacred moment.  

Their tender, poetic reunion was interrupted as Alex dissolved into a burst of giggles and squirms. Ben eased him down reluctantly. Holding Alex provided a type of calm and love he had never experienced, a special physicality.   “Daddy, sit here and watch me do the puzzle.” Alex said, running to bring the puzzle.

“Ok, Mate,” Ben said, sitting on the floor and locking eyes with Joe, who was misty-eyed.

“I’ll get your coffee,” Joe said, lingering a moment to see Alex plant him in the space between Ben’s crossed legs and Ben’s hands naturally settle on the toddler’s knees.

After quickly putting the five ocean animals in the wood board cut-outs, Alex tossed it and launched himself off of Ben, moving to a puzzle with 12 pieces.

“That’s too hard for you, Alex,” warned Jessie, Joe’s oldest niece (2). Undeterred, Alex separated the shapes by color and angle and then tried piecing them together in the frame.  

Ben reached for a shape sorter near him.  “Hey, Alex, want to try this?” he asked, concerned Alex would get frustrated. Alex ignored him, fully concentrating on the puzzle and having some success.

Joe entered and set the coffee on a table next to where Ben sat on the floor and stood beside him. Joe’s mother trailed behind.  Jessie’s dad, Joe’s brother-in-law, Pete, entered the room too and scouted the action. His eyes landed on Alex.  “Wow, he’s actually putting it together.  That’s amazing.  Seriously, guys, that’s advanced.”

“Then there was that…numbers incident on Christmas.” Joe’s mother commented as she watched her youngest grandson finger the puzzle pieces pensively and work to connect them.

“Numbers incident.” Ben repeated. “Sounds like something having to do with National security.   Did he break a code for the government? What did he do?” he asked jokingly intrigued, though he felt sadness having missed an important milestone, which seemed to happen more as time went by.  It had only been a little over a week, but much had transpired. In this new life, time was measured less in days and more in moments.

“He set out the building blocks with the numbers in order and counted to 10. Correctly.”  Joe’s mother said, impressed.

“Alright, alright,” Joe said. “I wouldn’t call Mensa yet.  He’s obviously just copying his older cousins.  Trying to keep up.  Though I might be bold and take credit for the counting,” Joe smirked, letting out a laugh.  “The Count was always my favorite Muppet on Sesame Street,” he declared, “and I have tried to pass on my passion for counting.”

Ben burst out laughing, and Alex joined in.  “I like The Count too!  I count with Papa,”  he said, looking at his dads laughing together.

“You certainly do,” Joe exclaimed, going over to give Alex’s hair a tussle.

“Hey, Uncle Ben,” Joe’s oldest nephew chimed in.  “Can we go out back and play soccer.”  

“Uh, Football?” Ben laughed. “Sure.  Ok, anyone wanting to join, get your trainers on.” Ben was always up for some football and enjoyed spending time with the nieces and nephews, though in this moment, all he wanted to do was curl up with Alex.  Alex, however, was always eager to join his older cousins. He abandoned the almost-finished puzzle and raced over to Joe for help with his sneakers.

The nieces and nephews proceeded to the backyard, and Ben set up goals with sticks.  As they passed the ball between each other, Alex ran alongside Ben, trying in vain to keep up.  The winter day was unseasonably warm and the sun bright. They quickly abandoned their jackets.  After a half hour, Joe’s mom called them in for lunch.  The timing was perfect.  Ben suddenly felt hungry and ready to crash, and Alex looked tired too.  “How about we take a nap after lunch?” Ben said, bending down to Alex, rubbing their noses together.  He stood up and held Alex’s hand as they walked into the house together. “Thanks, Uncle Ben,” the chorus of nephews and nieces said.

Following lunch, Ben helped Alex out of his booster seat, swinging him low on his hip.  “We’re heading up for a nap,” he said to Joe, who nodded, deep in conversation with his brother.  Ben brought his suitcase upstairs, as Alex climbed the steps slowly behind him.

In the bedroom, Ben took off his shirt which was damp with sweat and change into a fresh pair of sweatpants. He undressed Alex, changed his diaper and put him in a short-sleeved onesie with clean sweatpants.

“You tired, Babe?” he cooed. Alex nodded sleepily in response. The portable crib was set up at the foot of the bed, but Ben settled Alex in the double bed. Ben curled next to him, pulling him into his bare chest and brushing his blonde hair back.  Ben reveled in his warmth and his familiar scent, a mix of their sandalwood soap, Johnson’s baby shampoo and the faint smell of Desitin.  

Joe entered the room.  “My soon-to-be sleeping beauties.  Good you’re napping.  We have a long night ahead of us.  We pulled out all the stops for tonight: noise-makers, hats, light necklaces and other treats. It will be a wild party indeed!”

“Hmm, sounds fun,” Ben managed, snuggling Alex and planting light kisses on his bare arm.  

“Birthday party?” Alex asked.

“No, New Year’s Eve party…we say goodbye to this year and welcome the new one, which starts after midnight.” Ben said, giving Alex a hug, trying to prevent him from get riled up.

Joe eyed his two loves spooned together. If it were up to Ben, Alex would sleep in their bed every night. Co-sleeping was an area on which they didn’t always agree. A few months ago, they decided he could share their bed only for a special situation.  The criteria were not always clear, and Joe was known to give in, eager for the presence of their son and Ben’s contentment.  “Well, I guess this qualifies as a special situation. You’ve been away unplanned for over a week, and it’s New Year’s Eve.” Joe ribbed Ben with a big smile.   He loved seeing them together and expected that after being away, Ben would want Alex next to him as much as possible.

“Yeah, it is special. Missed this sweet boy…and his papa.” Ben said, his voice fading with impending sleep.  His arm settled lightly around Alex, and Alex put his small hand over Ben’s knuckles.  Their breathing steadied together and in a few minutes, they were asleep.  

Joe approached the bed and covered them with the sheet and comforter. He planted kisses on each of their cheeks and smoothed each of their blonde heads.  “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” (3) Joe said softly, before he backed out of the room and shut the door softly behind him, pleased that his boys were resting, but eager for them to wake to continue their sweet reunion -- and start the new year together.

Notes

Sonnet 43, William Shakespeare

I’ve retained the names of Joe’s family members from my 36: Reset fic

Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare, Act II, scene ii

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

When the Colors Bleed Away

I got this idea for an irondad drabble - a mostly plotless excuse for some angstiness and whump. Let me know what you, guys, think, and if any of you want to be tagged for the next chapter (should be about 2 chapters altogether). 

Link to chapter 2

Mr. Stark isn’t in the workshop when Peter goes down there to ask if he can go hang out with Ned and MJ for a few hours.   He’s made himself unusually scarce ever since Happy dropped Peter off at the Tower after school, and Peter, as excited as he’d been earlier to spend the weekend working with his mentor, couldn’t help feeling … neglected.  And bored.  Very, very bored.

 He shakes his head, already turning back toward the door, when a piece of crumpled paper on the work table catches his eye.   It looks unusual there in the midst of all the tech.  Foreign. Out of place.

His hand reaches for it without conscious thought, his curiosity getting the better of him.  He peeks at the print, fingers absently smoothing out the wrinkled surface.

And freezes, his breath hitching in horrified surprise, as he takes in the words: the acidic vitriol, the rage, the cold, venomous threat, the….  

 “Hey, Pete.  Whatcha doing here?”

 He jolts, badly, upon hearing Mr. Stark’s voice.  Twists around to face him, his fingers spasming around the already crumpled sheet.  And he can see the moment that Mr. Stark notices what he’s holding in his hand.  Can see a flash of worry and guilt in his eyes an instant before a mask slams down; can see the way his easy smile tightens, morphing into something unnatural, something plastic and tense.   And he knows, he knows without even having to ask, but he needs to, he needs to!

 “You weren’t even gonna tell me, were you?”

 “Pete…”  

 There’s a note of warning in Mr. Stark’s voice now, but Peter ignores it, the near overwhelming fear morphing into anger in his chest.

 “This guy…” He shakes his fisted hand, the paper crinkling through the air with the sharp motions. “This guy wants to kill you!  He… he talks about you like you’re already… already dead!… And you… you…”

 Mr. Stark’s mouth twitches into a mockingly bitter half-smile.  “I’m a public figure, Peter.  And not always a popular one.  Death threats are par for the course.  And if I worried about every lunatic who sends them to me, I wouldn’t have time to focus on anything else.”  

 He tries to sound nonchalant, but Peter can hear the strain behind the words, the slightly elevated beat of Mr. Stark’s heart.  It sets him on edge.

 “This one’s different,” he surmises, the sudden certainty of his conjecture only solidifying when he sees the way the skin around Mr. Stark’s eyes pinches at his words. “Isn’t it?”

 Mr. Stark, predictably, does not respond.  FRIDAY, on the other hand…

 “Someone tried to force Boss off the road earlier today.”

 “FRI!” Mr. Stark snaps in admonishment, but it is already too late, and Peter stares at him, horrified, his whole body tensing as he tries to process what he just heard.

 “What? H-how?”

 Mr. Stark sighs, annoyed; runs an angry hand through his hair.  And Peter doesn’t miss a small wince that flits across the man’s face at the sharp movement.  And oh, oh!…

 “You’re hurt!” he accuses, and he can’t believe this, he cannot believe this! And now the man’s unusual earlier absence makes sense.  “How bad?”

  “It’s nothing, Peter,” Mr. Stark tries, folding his arms defensively across his chest.  But his movements are a bit too careful this time, calculated, slow.

 Peter’s jaw twitches.

 “It’s your ribs, isn’t it?” he all but growls out.  “Broken? Cracked?”

 It is FRIDAY, once again, who answers.  “Hairline rib fractures on ribs 8 and 9 on the left side.  A sprained wrist and–”

 “Mute!” The anger in Mr. Stark’s voice is unmistakable now, and the AI obeys with a soft crackle of disappointment.  And Mr. Stark deflates, just like that.  Lowers himself gingerly onto the couch by the door, no longer bothering to hide another wince of pain.  Leans back, eyes closed.

 “Why did you have me come here?” Peter blurts out before he can stop himself.  Wavers slightly when Mr. Stark lifts his head up to give Peter an unimpressed glare.  “You’re injured, you’re… clearly in pain.  Why?”

 Mr. Stark lets out a breath, long and deep.  He looks tired to Peter all of a sudden, vulnerable, old.

 “This person, whoever he is, seems to have done his homework,” he says, voice weary, low. “Probably stalked me for quite some time, and there’s a good chance that he might decide to strike out against someone who’s close to me.  Pepper is in Malibu with Happy.  Colonel Rhodes is in DC.  The only ones with direct connections to me here are you and May, and I couldn’t risk him targeting you if that was the case.”  His jaw tightens angrily.  “I had you brought here because I thought it would be safer than having you go home by yourself.”  He raises his hand before Peter even opens his mouth, forestalling his question, “May’s safe.  I had someone pick her up from work and she’ll be coming here in a bit, too.”

 Peter huffs, incredulous. “Mr. Stark, I–”

 “I’ll take care of it, Peter, don’t worry,” Mr. Stark interrupts him, misinterpreting Peter’s expression.  “I’ll make sure you and May are safe.”

 “It’s not…” Peter shakes his head in frustration.  Because this is not what he’s worried about, and Mr. Stark is still not getting it, and… “You’re going after this guy alone?” he blurts out, and it comes out too critical, too harsh.

 Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow at him.  “I’ve done this before, kid.” And he’s wearing his “I’m Iron Man” face, and there’s a hint of condescension in his voice, an attempt to mollify, to appease.

 And Peter hates it. He’s not a little kid anymore, he doesn’t need this.  He needs, he needs…. “He almost killed you,” he breathes out, raw plea choking up his words.

 Mr. Stark’s expression softens in understanding, and he stands with a wince; crosses the distance between them.  “I’ll be alright, Pete,” he assures, reaching to ruffle Peter’s hair.

 But Peter ducks out of the way; steps stubbornly out of reach.  “Uncle Ben said the same thing,” he spits out bitterly and bolts from the room, ignoring the flash of surprised hurt in his mentor’s eyes.

  ***

 He’s only mildly surprised to find Mr. Stark waiting for him outside the cemetery gates, leaning against the side of his car, arms crossed over his chest.  There’s a stormy look in his eyes, an angry clench in his jaw.

 Peter can do angry, too.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “Funny.” Mr. Stark’s gaze narrows ever so slightly.  “I could ask you the same thing.”

 “I come here when I need to think,” Peter offers reluctantly.  Ben’s grave is his special place, his secret, and… “How did you find me here?”

 “Your tracker,” Mr. Stark nods at the watch on Peter’s wrist, the watch Mr. Stark gave him last Christmas, and Peter feels a wave of irritation flare fast and hot inside his chest.

 “Another one of your ‘baby monitor’ protocols?” he spits out, fists clenching.  And this sucks, he thinks, this really sucks. He thought they were past this.  “Are you ever gonna trust me?”  

 Mr. Stark’s jaw twitches. “Perhaps,” he allows with a slight tilt of his head.  “When you start acting like the responsible person you claim to be.”

 “I’m–”

 “I told you that I brought you to the Tower to keep you out of harm’s way,” Mr. Stark interrupts, his voice growing sharper, more heated.  “In what universe does that imply you get to sneak out on your own and go off traipsing across town for a graveside visit?”

 “I needed to think,” Peter repeats stubbornly, his own voice rising to match Mr. Stark’s.  And he knows he’s being unreasonable here, knows he’s bordering on disrespectful, but this thing, this threat – it has bothered him more than he would like to admit; rattled him in a way he hasn’t been since… since that day on Titan all those years ago.  And he just… he…  

 “You have the whole Tower at your disposal,” Mr. Stark points out, hand waving vaguely in the direction from which, Peter assumes, he came.  “93 floors was not enough for ya?”  

 “I can go wherever I please,” Peter retorts childishly with an eye roll that makes Mr. Stark’s eyebrows rise in dismay. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my father.”  

 He regrets the words the moment they slip out of his mouth.  Wants to clamp his teeth around them, take them all back.  Because he didn’t mean it.  Dear God, he did not mean any of it.

  But it is too late, and the blow lands, sure and cruel, Mr. Stark flinching with the force of it.        

 Mr. Stark is silent for a long, long minute, his gaze lost somewhere above Peter’s shoulder, his shoulders hunched in tired, weary defeat.  “I’m now regretting not coming to get you in the suit,” he murmurs finally, and his voice sounds so neutral, so cold that Peter wants to scream.  “Would have served you right being flown across town under Iron Man’s arm like the tantruming toddler you are so clearly trying to channel right now.”  

He pushes himself off the car, still not making eye contact.  Starts to walk around toward the driver’s side.  “Get in the car, Pete,” he throws flatly over his shoulder, and Peter is too horrified by the impact of his own thoughtless outburst to disobey.

 He slips inside onto the back seat, feeling undeserving and frankly terrified to sit next to Mr. Stark right now.  Hides his face in his hands, wracking his brain as he tries to come up with some way, any way to fix this.

 The hair on his arms stand up an instant before his ears register the roar of an accelerating car engine outside, and he jolts in place, covering his head instinctively, as a volley of gunfire sprays the driver’s side of Mr. Stark’s car.  The precaution is unnecessary, he knows – Mr. Stark’s car is bulletproof.  

 Only Mr. Stark… Mr. Stark wasn’t in the car when the shots were fired.  Mr. Stark was… is…

 He bolts out of the car, nearly ripping the door off in the process.  Scrambles around the trunk, his feet slipping on the loose gravel in his hurry to get to the driver’s side.

 And stops, his breath – a solid ice block of horror in his lungs as he stares down at the gruesome scene before him.

 “No,” he chokes out, stumbling forward on buckling, shaky legs.  “No, no, no.”

 He drops to his knees beside Mr. Stark’s awkwardly slumped form. Stares in gasping, numb disbelief at a row of ugly tears that mar the fabric of Mr. Stark’s shirt; at the dark stains that spread forth from each one, saturating the black material.  Hovers in breathless indecision, losing a few precious seconds, before he rips off his outer shirt and presses it hard to the blood-drenched fabric, his heart clenching with fear as the folded flannel becomes soaked in a matter of moments.

 Mr. Stark shifts slightly underneath his hands, pale lips parting to let out a moan that quickly dissolves into a series of harsh, rattling coughs.  He’s breathless and gasping for air by the time he’s done, his lips and chin painted an unsettlingly bright red.  Peter clenches his teeth against the sight; slides one arm under Mr. Stark’s back to raise him up a bit, to pull him against his chest, hoping to ease the man’s breathing.

 It doesn’t seem to help. Mr. Stark continues to gasp uselessly in Peter’s grasp, his eyes flying open, wild gaze searching, searching until it settles blearily on Peter’s face.

 “Y…you… k-kay?” he wheezes out, a wet gurgle accompanying each choked off word.

 “I’m fine, Mr. Stark, I’m… I’m okay,” Peter manages, fighting the urge to scream, because he’s not the one Mr. Stark should be concerned about.  He’s…

 “C-car… get… get in… ‘ts… saf-” The word is cut off on another nasty cough, and Mr. Stark goes rigid in Peter’s arms, his face twisting with pain, eyes slamming shut.

 Peter holds on to him, tears of helplessness and fear clouding his vision as the ruthless agony that engulfs Mr. Stark’s body seems to go on and on and on.  And then it stops abruptly, and Mr. Stark goes suddenly, terrifyingly limp against him, and Peter’s world spins and crumbles into a colorless, ash-filled void of despair.  

TBC

(it’s not a deathfic, I promise) 

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part XII

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect. Unexpectedly, they’re having a child together.  

Word Count: 4K (its a dramatic one)

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession  @jennyggggrrr, @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld, @mrsmazzello, @reedusteinrambles, @rexorangecouny, @caborhapch, @kurt-nightcrawler, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @queendeakyy, @hotttspace, @anxious-diabetic, @someone-get-a-medic, @psychosupernatural, @lizvxx, @cobra-anon, @anotherhystericalqueen, @mazzello-lee-jones-malek It’s not over quite yet! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

A/N: Y’all ready to meet Joey?! Here he comes!

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V  Pat VI Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX  Part X  Part XI

Part XII here we go!!!

You and Joe returned to New York, where the cold was a shock after the warmth of California. You were happy to be back in your house, which you decorated for the holiday season. You spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Mazzello’s. They adored you, and the feeling was mutual. They were so sweet and welcoming and incredibly excited for you and Joe.

His mother was an actual angel, who just doted on you. She was thrilled you liked the ring, since it was inherited from her mother. She told you the rich family history of it, and it made you all the more honored to wear it. Although, you told her it was getting rather tight around your swelling fingers, so she gifted you a gold chain to wear it around until after the baby was born. You thanked her over and over again. She helped you put it on and told you how beautiful you looked. You thought you might die of happiness.

They did take a few moments to grieve Joe’s father. You felt a bit like an outsider then, since you never knew him. You’d met him briefly when he came to pick Joe up from school back in those days, but you never knew him well enough to mourn. You started to excuse yourself, but Joe took your hand, holding you close to him, needing you.

When you got home, it was after New Year’s. Your belly was becoming a nuisance to you now that it was too round to bend over or turn around in a narrow hallway. It made you thankful you were no longer in your apartment. That space was much too small. Joe was still travelling since Bohemian Rhapsody was nominated for so many awards. But he would be with you the entire month of February. You told him that was fine, but he had to go to the Oscars. The baby would be a newborn, but it was something you insisted he couldn’t miss.

February began and you and Joe were so excited you could hardly talk about anything other than the baby’s arrival. Dr. Jones was finally back from Kenya, which you were incredibly thankful for because Dr. Barrow was just so rude. You wouldn’t actually see her until your delivery though. Until then, you and Joe were putting together Joey’s nursery.

“Baby, do you want to do anything for Valentine’s Day?” he asked as you handed him the next part he needed for the crib.

“Huh,” you said, thinking. “I forgot about Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s just that it’s our first one together and I was wondering if you wanted it to be special,” he pointed out.

“Honestly, Joe, Valentine’s has never meant very much to me,” you explained. “The restaurants are crowded, people are annoyingly in love, other people’s feelings get hurt. It’s always seemed a little silly to me.”

He shrugged. “Alright, then, we won’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Please don’t say that now and plan a big surprise for me,” you said. “Really, I mean it. It’s not a big deal. Plus it’s less than a week from Joey’s due date and I don’t wanna go into labor or something if we’re in public.”

He chuckled, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Alright then. No Valentine’s plans. Although, Ben’s gonna be in town by then. Rami and Lucy will be here too.”

“Honey, I’m sure Ben will be your Valentine if you ask him nicely,” you teased.

“He’d be lucky to have me,” he returned with a smirk. “But since Rami and Lucy will probably be together, maybe we could have Ben here and tell him the good news.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” you agreed.

You and Joe had talked a lot about Joey’s godparents. You had already named Christy the godmother, and she was honored to accept. Joe, however, had a difficult time deciding on a godfather. In the end, he chose Ben. It surprised you, but you supported him one hundred percent.

“What about Gwilym?” you asked.

“He’s flying in on the fifteenth early in the morning,” he said.

“Well, alright, we can have Valentines with just us and Ben,” you said. “That’ll be fun.”

A couple weeks went by, and it was the holiday of love or bitterness. Ben agreed to come over to you and Joe’s for dinner and stay with you two in the guest room. He loved the house and the nursery.

“Really, you guys have done an incredible job,” he praised. “It’s so...you guys.”

“Thanks, man,” Joe returned. “Y/N, is dinner about ready?”

You nodded. “Should be.”

You all went downstairs, Joe helping you with your slow pace. You served dinner and when there was a lull in the conversation, Joe cleared his throat.

“So, Ben,” he began, and he took  your hand. “There was something we wanted to ask you.”

Ben raised his eyebrows at the both of you. “Okay?”

“We’ve thought about it a lot, and we wanted to know if you would be Joey’s godfather,” Joe said.

A smile erupted across Ben’s face. “Really? D’you mean it?”

“Yeah!” you assured him. “We think you’d be wonderful!”

Ben laughed. “I thought...I thought you’d pick Rami for sure. I can’t believe it!”

“So you’ll do it?” Joe asked to clarify.

“Of bloody course I will!” Ben cried. “I’m honored!”

He stood up and hugged you both.

“Sorry your Valentine’s Day was just us,” you said when he kissed your cheek. “But I hope we made it okay.”

“Are you kidding?” he replied, still grinning. “This is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had. Thank you so much, guys.”

At that moment, you felt a small contraction. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling. You’d been having them every few days since you were so close to your due date, but  you knew when you would need to go to the hospital and it wasn’t time yet.

“Alright?” Ben wondered.

“Another contraction?” asked Joe.

You nodded. Ben shot Joe a worried look.

“Not yet,” Joe said with a laugh. “It’s just that he’s close.”

“Yeah, he could come any day now,” you said. “I have had more contractions today than before. Maybe it will be his godfather that brings him out.”

Ben smiled. “I’m so excited.”

“Us too,” Joe said.

You took a deep breath. “I think I will go up and lie down. Do you guys mind doing the dishes?”

“We can take care of that,” said Joe. “Besides, you cooked, so I clean. Those are the rules.”

“I’m still getting used to it,” you said with a laugh, and reached out to give Ben another hug. “I’ll go ahead and tell you goodnight. Thanks for being here, Ben.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, kissing the top of your head.

You pecked Joe on the lips. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

“Love you,” he said.

He was thankful - for years afterward - that those were the last words he said to you before you closed your eyes that night. He stayed up with Ben, catching up on the couch as they each had a beer. They laughed and talked as if they had never been apart at all.

“I really am amazed you’re about to be a father, mate,” Ben said.

“And you’re gonna be a godfather,” Joe returned. “As well as Uncle Ben.”

“Seriously,” Ben said. “You’re gonna be a great dad, Joe. You’ve supported Y/N through so much, even beyond the pregnancy. You and her are like the dream team.”

“I think so,” Joe agreed. “I’m just ready to be married to her now. Maybe have another pretty soon.”

“You’ll have the perfect little family.”

“Honestly, Ben. It’s like, cosmic that she and I found each other. It was like I’d known her forever, just seeing her when we walked into that newsroom. Like we’d stayed friends and nothing else had happened.”

“Everyone wants what you two have. To be that sure about a person...I’m jealous.”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Joe said. “She’s it.”

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but they both stopped when they heard you cry out like a wounded animal from upstairs. Both men leapt to their feet and stormed up the stairs to your bedroom. When they burst through the door, they found you thrashing on the bed, crying and yelling.

“It hurts!” you cried. “It hurts!”

“Y/N!” Joe called to you, crawling up beside you on the bed. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

You paused, panting, just barely opening your eyes.

“Joe?” you breathed.

“Has it started?” Ben asked.

“I’m not sure,” Joe returned.

“Wha...what’s Ben doing here?” you wondered blearily.

“Honey, he’s been here all night,” Joe said, brow furrowing. “We just had dinner.”

You started to answer but shouted again. “Fuck! My head! Joe, it hurts!”

“What’s happening?” Ben cried.

“I have no idea!” Joe said.

You shrieked beside him, writhing again. More tears spilled down your face. Joe’s heart broke at the sight. He felt so helpless.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Ben asked.

“No, let’s just take her ourselves,” Joe instructed. “Help me lift her, I don’t think she can walk.”

He pulled back the covers, and he tried to touch your face to tell you they were going to carry you. You couldn’t open your eyes, though. And you were clutching your head too tightly for him to touch you.

“Joe,” said Ben darkly. “Look.”

He followed Ben’s gaze and saw the dark spot between your legs. Your water was broken. You were in labor and you didn’t even realize it. Worry shot through his heart. What was going on with your head that could make it so bad you couldn’t even feel contractions?

“We gotta be fast,” Joe said, and he put his arms underneath you on one side.

Ben took the other side and together they lifted you off the bed. You moaned with pain, but you weren’t screaming anymore, either. You turned your head into Joe’s chest and whimpered into him, tears dampening the cotton.

“Stay with me, baby,” he said. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You just moaned again. They carried you to the car and placed your carefully in the back seat. Joe told Ben to get in with you so he could drive.

“Are you sure?” Ben asked. “I can drive if you want to sit with her.”

“I’ll be faster, I know where I’m going,” Joe insisted.

Ben did as he was told. Joe gave you one last desperate look before climbing behind the wheel and taking off as fast as legally possible. It was pretty late, so traffic was light, but he still felt his heart rate taking off the closer you got.

You gave another pitiful moan, grabbing your head again and yelling.

Joe’s throat became thick as he heard you scream once more, “Ahhh! My head!”

When he pulled up to the hospital, he and Ben helped you inside. He told the nurse you were in labor and they got you set up in a room to prepare you for delivery. Your headache subsided as you got settled, but you couldn’t remember getting to the hospital now. Joe frowned, confused at your confusion.

“Okay, Dr. Barrow is already here so he’ll be down in just a minute to check on you,” the nurse said. “First I’m gonna take your blood pressure.”

Joe watched as you held out your arm and the nurse recorded the number.

“Okay, it’s pretty high, but nothing to worry about yet,” she said.

“What about the headaches?” Joe asked. “And where’s Dr. Jones?”

“Dr. Jones is on her way,” she told him. “And Dr. Barrow can tell you about the headaches and if it’s anything to worry about.”

She left and Joe began pacing. Ben took the chair next to your bed. You closed your eyes and winced when you felt a contraction.

“Did my water break?” you asked.

“Yes, baby, we told you in the car,” Joe said. “You’re in labor.”

“It just doesn’t really feel like it,” you said.

Joe and Ben exchanged worried glances.

“Rami and Lucy are on the way,” Ben said. “I texted them. Gwilym’s on the plane, so I haven’t heard back from him yet.”

“Is Christy coming?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I texted her,” Joe answered.

“Good,” you said with a sigh.

At that moment, Dr. Barrow came in.

“How are we doing?” he asked cheerfully. “Ready to have a baby?”

“Things are fine,” you said tiredly.

“What?” said Joe. “No, honey, they’re not. Dr. Barrow, we had to come tonight because she’s having severe headaches. She didn’t even realize she was in labor her head hurt so bad.”

“Women often exaggerate -” he began.

Joe cut him off. “Doctor, she was screaming.”

“This can happen during labor,” Dr. Barrow said. “For now, we’ll monitor her contractions and dilation.”

He left and Joe groaned.

“He’s kind of a prick, isn’t he?” Ben remarked.

“More than that,” Joe said. “He’s ignored every concern we’ve had. I think he just doesn’t want to deal with anything that could go wrong.”

“He’s in the wrong profession for that,” Ben said.

“I’ll say,” said Joe.

In another five minutes, Rami, Lucy, and Christy had arrived. They all looked happy, but the smiles faltered when they saw Joe and Ben’s faces.

“What’s wrong?” Christy asked.

“We don’t know,” Joe said. “But it’s something.”

“Hey, guys,” you said from the bed.

Christy stepped over to you and took your hand. “Everything okay, sweetie?”

You nodded. “I think so. It’s probably too early for you guys to come to the hospital. Joey won’t be here for another few hours.”

“Don’t be silly,” she returned. “We want to be here for the whole thing.”

You looked at your hand in hers. “God, my fingers look huge.”

Christy blinked. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just focus on getting your baby out safely.”

“Has the doctor seen her?” Rami wondered.

Joe nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not our primary doctor, and he’s not taking it very seriously.”

You choked on the next thing your were about to say to Christy as another headache came over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and howled with pain.

“MY HEAD!” you shrieked. “JOE! IT HURTS!”

You slammed your fist down onto the bed, writhing again. Joe grabbed your hand.

“Hey, stay with me, baby, we’re gonna figure this out,” he said, stroking your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

Christy ran and got the first nurse she saw. Luckily, she was approaching with Dr. Jones. When they heard your cries, they came running.

“What’s happening?” Dr. Jones called over your yells.

“I don’t know!” Joe returned. “She’s had headaches all night and she’s completely out of it!”

“Oh, God,” Dr. Jones said. “Has her blood pressure lowered since I saw you?”

“The nurse said it was still high when she took it a minute ago,” Joe explained.

“I need to test the latest sample of her urine,” she said. “I’m gonna take care of that and I’ll be back soon. This looks like preeclampsia, and if that’s the case we need to get her an IV of magnesium to prevent her from seizing.”

“She could have a seizure?!”

“Not if we act fast,” she said. “If we’ve caught it soon enough, then we can also avoid a c-section.”

“If it we didn’t catch it on time?”

“We won’t worry about that unless it’s true,” she said. “For now, try to keep her focused on labor.”

She left to run the tests. You were recovering again, taking deep breaths as sweat coated your skin. Your eyes were red and puffy from your bouts of crying. Tears still rolled softly down your cheek and you reached for Joe. He knelt down and took your hand, fighting back tears himself.

“Joe,” you whined. “I’m scared.”

“I know, baby, I’m scared too,” he said. “But we’re together. Just stay with me, okay?”

You only nodded. Then Dr. Jones poked her head inside and called Joe out. You looked at your friends around you. You reached one hand out to Christy and the other out to Ben, knowing you had to tell someone, and it might as well be Joey’s godparents. They each took your hand.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Christy asked.

You swallowed thickly. “If something happens, and I don’t make it through the night -” “Don’t say that,” Ben said gently.

“Please,” you said. “If I don’t, tell them - and Joe - to do whatever it takes to save my son. Even if it puts me at risk. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m going to try my hardest to get through this. But if I can’t…” you trailed off, emotion taking your voice.

“We’ll save Joey,” Christy assured you after swallowing hard.

“We promise,” Ben agreed, stroking your hand lightly.

Lucy couldn’t stand it. She buried her face in Rami’s shoulder. He rubbed her back, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

“Where’s Gwilym?” you wondered.

“He’s on his way,” Ben said. “His plane doesn’t land for another two hours, though.”

“We told you, honey,” Christy added. “You don’t remember?”

“I think so,” you said, but you really couldn’t remember talking about Gwilym.

“It’s okay,” Ben told you. “We’ll remind you of anything you forget.”

Meanwhile, Joe was outside talking to Dr. Jones.

“I’ve just gotten some test results back,” she said. “The protein level in her urine is high. That paired with high blood pressure, swelling, headaches, and muddled mind tells me this is a pretty severe case of preeclampsia. How long has she been having headaches?”

“The intense ones only started tonight,” he said. “But she’s been having them since the second trimester.”

Dr. Jones’s eyes went wide. “Did she tell Dr. Barrow?”

Joe nodded. “Yes. Several times. He said everything was fine.”

“He made no notes in her file that she had complained at all,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Joe. Clearly, he didn’t see all these symptoms together, and now she’s at risk.”

“Is - is she gonna be okay?” he wondered.

“I believe so,” she said. “I’ve already ordered her IV to keep her from having a seizure, but the only cure for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby. Luckily, she’s already in labor and we don’t have to induce. I’m going to keep her on magnesium and see if we can successfully deliver the baby vaginally. I’d like to avoid a c-section if possible.”

The nurses walked by with the IV bag, saying nothing as they closed the door again.

“I can’t make any promises,” Dr. Jones continued. “But what I can say is that preeclampsia is rare, but very treatable. It makes delivery more difficult and maybe a little more painful, but not impossible. We don’t need to worry until it develops into full eclampsia. And even then, we’re already at the hospital and ready to treat her if she seizes.”

“But once the baby is born, she’ll be fine?” he asked.

“Should be,” she replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a few words with Dr. Barrow. The fact that he missed this is pretty alarming.”

Joe watched her disappear down the hall. He felt a little better but he was still worried. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t forget the sight of you thrashing around and the sound of your screams. He shook his head to clear his mind and then returned to the room.

The IV was attached and you seemed to be doing better. You didn’t look so weak anymore. He walked over and explained to everyone what Dr. Jones told him.

“So, everything’s gonna be okay?” Christy asked.

“Dr. Jones seemed pretty confident of that,” Joe said.

She sunk into her chair and let out a shaky breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Time slipped by. Your headaches had ceased as one hour passed into two. When you were seven centimeters dilated, it was almost time to push, so Dr. Jones told everyone but Joe to relocate to the waiting room. They did, and waited anxiously. While they were out there, Gwilym arrived, looking worried and breathless. Ben and Rami updated him on everything that had happened. He looked relieved that you were going to be alright and that he hadn’t missed Joey’s arrival.

Before too much longer, Joe emerged, grinning so hard it was a miracle his face wasn’t split in two. He was laughing, but tears spilled down his cheeks. Everyone got to their feet, smiling back at him.

“He’s here,” he managed to say. “He’s ready to meet you all.”

They surged forward to hug and congratulate him. Christy was the first to break away and head to your room. Joe shook hands with Gwilym and told him he was glad he’d made it. Then they all followed Christy and came in to see you looking exhausted but happy, and holding your baby in your arms. He let out a little gurgle and you beamed at him. Your heart felt full. You’d never known a love so powerful as what you felt when you looked at your son.

Your friends surrounded you and you smiled at them.

“He’s beautiful, Y/N,” Christy said, deftly touching his head. “I’m so proud of you.”

Joe took a seat beside you on the bed and kissed your cheek. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you guys want to hold him?”

They nodded. You handed the baby to Joe, who passed him first to Ben. Ben looked a little terrified and you almost laughed. You held back, not wanting to make him feel bad. He held Joey close to his chest. He looked so small in Ben’s arms.

“I’m so tired,” you said with a yawn. “I hate to be rude, but I’m going to sleep a little.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Joe said, tucking you under his arm. “You’ve earned it.”

You closed your eyes and dozed against his chest.

Ben passed the baby to Rami next. He stirred and just barely blinked up at Rami.

“He’s got your eyes, Joe,” he said.

“He’s so cute,” Lucy cooed, looking down at him in Rami’s arms. “He might actually be the cutest baby in the world.”

“I agree, but I’m probably biased considering I helped make him,” Joe returned.

Rami passed him to Lucy. “Well, she didn’t,” he said lightly. “So I think it’s a fair statement.”

They continued to pass Joey around. They snapped a few photos to put on social media later, but didn’t post anything yet. Joe also requested they not take any of you while you were asleep since you weren’t able to give them permission. They respected that. Gwilym sent photos of Joe holding the baby to Brian and Roger, who had asked for updates after the child was born.

At one point, Christy left to get everyone coffee. It was the middle of the morning now so everyone was starting to crash a little from being up all night. When she finished passing them out, everyone felt at ease. Ben was holding Joey again, claiming godfather rights. Suddenly, your eyes snapped open and you looked at Joe’s face.

“Joe -” you began, but cut yourself off with a strangled cry, grabbing your head again.

“Shit!” Joe yelled getting to his knees to try and hold you still.

Christy and Lucy hurtled out the door to fetch the doctor.

You squirmed on the bed. Your screaming stopped when you found yourself gasping for air. You couldn’t fill your lungs. Your vision blurred.

Joe looked on in horror as you wheezed, head thrown in the pillow, and eyes beginning to roll back into your head.

“Y/N, breathe!” he cried desperately as he took hold of your hand and held it to his chest. “Stay with me! Come on!”

Your body jerked some more as your face started to turn blue.

“No, no, no, NO!” Joe yelled. “Don’t leave me, Y/N! Please stay with me!”

The jerks slowed to small twitches. Your head started to slump to the right. Your hand became limp in Joe’s.

“Stay with me, Y/N!” he continued, grasping your arm as if it was what tied you to this world. “Baby, PLEASE!”

[collecting-stories]

Butterflies - Mark Cohen

A/N: Mark Cohen is a precious angel baby and I love him so I wrote this fic for him. 

Kiss full of color makes me wonder where you’ve always been, I was living in doubt till you brought me out of my chrysalis. 

\\\

“Have you read this script?” Mark asked, dropping the stapled bunch of papers on the reception desk.  

“You forget I don’t get to read scripts, I just answer the phone.” You replied, pushing the script back across the desk at him.  

“Well you should read this, it’s terrible!” He pushed it back to you, grimacing, “Vampire Drag Queens...god this is such trash.”  

“Trash that pays the bills Marky,” you teased, mimicking Alexei’s high-pitched squeak of a voice.

He huffed and looked at the script once more, thumbing through it. He hated this job honestly, he had taken it simply because he needed the money and he had caved to Alexei’s demand after Roger had taken off to Santa Fe. It was foolish, he knew, and playing right into Alexei’s hand, but he desperately wanted to find his place somewhere.  

“It’s not so bad, I mean, at least she doesn’t discriminate?”  

“Yeah I would hate the vampires to feel pigeon-holed in our news stories.”  

“So it’s not time magazine, at least it’s something.” You offered, almost reading his mind. Or at least repeating his inner-dialogue out loud.

But it wasn’t what Mark wanted to hear, “It’s never gonna be time magazine if I keep this up. Who wants to see a resume that lists buzzline as the prior working reference? I’ll be lucky if I manage a spot on the local channel someday.”  

“It’s only temporary Mark.”  

“You’re too positive for your own good.” He sighed, unable to fight the smile when his eyes met yours, “anyway, I should go. I’m meeting some friends tonight for dinner and I swore I wouldn’t be late.”  

“Are you busy afterward?” You asked.  

“After dinner?”  

“Yeah, I mean dinner isn’t all night is it?” You tried to sound casual as you asked, watching his movements as he slipped into his coat and scarf.  

“No of course not.”  

“So, after that...would you wanna get drinks?”  

Mark frowned. He didn’t mind getting drinks with everyone but he really only went along because you were there and he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to spend dinner with Maureen and Joanne only to finish the night out with work people drinking. “Who all is going? Last time Ben bought and I swore I’d pay him back but I haven’t and I think he might be adding interest into those drinks. How much is $6 plus two weeks at 1%?”  

“I have no idea.” You laughed, “but uh...Ben won’t be there. I kind of meant just us.” You’d been trying to figure out a way to ask Mark on a date since he started working for your boss months ago. So far you’d been completely unsuccessful.

“Oh, sure, that’s fine. Did you wanna go somewhere around here or-“

“Wherever.” You had never gotten this far before.  

“We could go to the Life Cafe? It’s always cheap.” Mark replied, “it’s probably good Ben isn’t going then, he gets freaked out taking the subway.”  

“Oh my god do you remember the mole-people segment?” You exclaimed, smiling at him as you remembered the way Ben had gone on and on about the disgusting city transit lines.

“I thought he was gonna pee himself!” Mark laughed.  

“That is why I only work reception.”  

He nodded in agreement, “well we can’t all be so lucky. I’ll see you okay? Like 10pm?”  

“Sounds good!”  

“If Irene or somebody wants to come I don’t mind,” Mark added as an afterthought, “I don’t think I owe her any money.”  

You offered a rather cheesy thumbs up as the elevator doors closed and then slumped back in your chair. Mark was supposed to be observant, how had he not figured out that you were trying to ask him on a date.  

-

“-at the Life Cafe.” Mark explained his after dinner plans as he exited the restaurant with Joanne and Maureen.  

“A date Marky?” Maureen teased, grabbing her ex-boyfriend's arm and leaning against him as they walked.  

“It’s not a date, we all go out for drinks sometimes.” Mark pointed out, flushing from the thought.  

“Except it’s just the two of you?” Joanne pointed out.  

“Yeah, I think so.”  

“Who was it?” She asked, trying to run through the different people at Buzzline that she had met to see if she could remember the girl in question.  

“The receptionist. I don’t know if you remember her-“  

“She was so cute.” Maureen exclaimed.  

“Maureen.”

“Cute for Mark.” Maureen clarified, looking over at her girlfriend, “She was so cute for Mark. Good for you sweetie, your hand needs a break anyway.”  

“Maureen!” It was Mark this time, yanking himself away from his ex.  

“What?”

“I don’t even know if it’s a date, it’s just drinks. I mean-“ He wanted it to be a date but just because he wanted that didn’t mean it would happen. You hadn’t outright said that it was a date and as much as he wanted to assume that it was he was concerned that doing so would only make him look stupid. God, if Roger was here right now he just knew he’d be getting years worth of flack over this stupid date/non-date.  

“Look, if she changes out of her office clothes than it’s a date, especially if she puts on something nicer than the place you’re going.” Joanne pointed out.

“Anything is nicer than the place they’re going.” Maureen replied.  

“I’m not taking a cash advance to buy some beer Maureen. Don’t act so high and mighty just cause someone is paying your tab.” Mark snapped, annoyed that getting grilled by his friends had turned into one of Maureen’s ridiculous double standard.  

“Hey, she paid your tab too!” Maureen protested, smacking his arm.

“I gotta go, I’m supposed to meet her at ten.”  

“When do we get to meet her?” Joanne asked, grinning mischievously at her friend.  

“You’ve met her, you already said-“  

“That does not count Mark!” Maureen cut in.  

“Look, I gotta go.” Mark replied, walking backwards away from Maureen and Joanne so they didn’t try to keep talking to him. He knew they could talk for hours if he let them.  

-

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late. The subway was packed and the escalator was broken-“ Mark apologized as he walked up to the table you were sitting at, already taking off his scarf. He had been panicking since he got on the subway car earlier in the night.  

“It’s okay, I saw they had the escalator taped off, I figured if you had your bike with you then you were bound to be late.” You had hiked the stairs in the uncomfortable but cute shoes you had chosen to wear tonight.  

“Glad I’m that predictable. Have you ordered?”

“Not yet, I wanted to wait.” You replied.  

“Thanks.”  

Once Mark was seated and the waiter had taken your drink orders the night progressed easily. You’d known each other and been something akin to friends since he first started working at Buzzline. You’d made a point of talking to him only to be pigeon-holed as the nice receptionist friend immediately. Slowly you had begun to consider the possibility of more again, as the two of you spent time outside of work with mutual friends or time at work venting about friends the other didn’t know. He told you stories about Roger and Maureen and you told him about your awful ex-boyfriend and the string of emotionally unavailable guys that followed. Being open with each other made for a great friendship but it was the more-than-that you were trying to get off the ground.  

“So how long have you lived in New York?” Mark asked, taking a sip of his beer. He was on his second already, letting the light buzz warm him and ease the tense nerves he felt at being alone with you.  

“Since I was a kid, my mom still lives in the same apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, what about you?” You still lived in the same apartment. Rent was hell and you were trying to keep your name off a lease for as long as possible.

“Moved here after high school, thought I’d make it big somehow but now I’m working for Buzzline and living in this dump and kind of convinced that I’ll never make it out of this neighborhood.” Mark confessed. Even though you knew his current housing and job situations he wished he had something more impressive to tell you.  

“Who would want to leave? Someday people will be paying top dollar for places like this.”  

“Yeah someday when I get kicked out.” He laughed. “Alexei will fire me and I’ll be begging on the street or something. Just me and the stupid hotplate my mom sent me last year at Christmas.”

“I really don’t think you’ll be trapped at Buzzline forever Mark or fired from there,” you replied, “you’re too good for them.”  

“I appreciate that.”  

“If you could do anything right now what would you do?” You asked, curious.  

“Pay Ben back.” He joked, “I don’t know, write a play?”  

“About vampire drag queens?”  

“Oh definitely,” he laughed, then as an afterthought added, “hey thanks for inviting me out tonight, did no one else wanna come?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t invite anyone else.” You confessed, “it’s not a big deal I just, kind of was hoping this could be a date.”  

You liked Mark but you knew he was a little hopeless. He either didn’t like you but was too nice to say anything or he did like you and had no idea that you liked him back because he was rubbish at picking up on hints. Both seemed like viable options but you were hoping the second one was fact.  

“Joanne was right.” Mark uttered, eyes wide as he looked completely shocked by the news.  

“What?”

“My friend Joanne said this was probably a date but I didn’t believe her, I thought she was just trying to make me flustered before I got here.” He laughed.  

“She might’ve been but, this is definitely a date.” You confirmed, “if you want it to be.”  

“Yeah, definitely, absolutely.” Mark nodded.  

-

I love RENT, I'm not ashamed of it. 

[nicolasnelson]

Benlos fic - Let the Sparks Fly

Title: Let the Sparks Fly Relationship: Ben/Carlos De Vil, side of Mal/Evie, Harry/Uma, and Gil/Jane Additional Tags: Hogwarts AU, Christmas party, Getting back together, Fluff and angst Chapters: 1/3 Words: 3,687

Ben Florian comes from a long line of pureblood wizards, so he must keep his relationship with Carlos De Vil, a muggleborn wizard, a secret. When Ben's relationship with Carlos is threatened, he decides to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays and host a Christmas party. With luck, he can win Carlos back.

Written for DearDescendants’ 12 Days of Holidays, Day 7 - Holidays in Hogwarts

[AO3 LINK]

Carlos De Vil walked back and forth past the spot on the wall three times with one thought on his mind. Give me a place where I can make out with my secret boyfriend.

The door appeared as it always did, and he eagerly turned the doorknob and slipped inside. It was quiet inside the Room of Requirement. A couch, a cozy fireplace, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies welcomed him. Christmas decorations were draped over the mantelpiece and strung across the walls, and a Christmas tree stood in the corner, decked with glittering ornaments.

Carlos sat down before the roaring fire and nibbled on the cookies while he waited for his boyfriend to arrive. They always staggered their arrival times. They couldn’t come at the same time for fear of being caught. If anyone saw them go into the room together, they’d know what they were to each other.

The door creaked. Carlos tensed, looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know why he was always so worried that someone else would follow him in. The room was good about keeping out unwanted guests. It was the paranoia that came with dating someone in secret.

“Carlos, sorry I’m late. Practice ran a little long.”

“It’s okay. You are a Quidditch legend.”

Ben chuckled. “That’s no excuse.”

Carlos walked over to his boyfriend and kissed his cheek. “Really, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“Thanks, but that’s less time we have to spend together before I leave for Christmas break.” Ben wrapped his arms around Carlos’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Carlos’s heart fluttered. He ran his fingers through Ben’s hair, tugging at those silky locks, desperate to be closer to him. His breath was hot against his cheek as Ben’s lips ghosted over his skin. Ben whispered into his ear. “I’m really going to miss you. I wish you could come with me.”

“I could,” Carlos said. He’d thought about this a lot, and he had a whole speech prepared. “We’ve been dating for six months now. I know we wanted to keep it a secret in the beginning, to see if it was going anywhere, but I’m ready to tell people now. If you are.”

Ben wasn’t smiling like Carlos had hoped. His expression was frozen, cold. He took a step back. “You know I care about you a lot, and I want to continue dating you, but it feels like it’s too soon.”

“Just last month you said you wanted to tell people.”

“I know, but things change.”

“You don’t like me anymore?”

Ben stepped closer and ran his fingers along Carlos’s arm. “Hey, I definitely still like you.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell people anymore? It’s not like you’re in the closet or anything. You told everyone when you were dating Aziz, and you guys weren’t even together half a year. Why am I any different?”

Ben winced. He took Carlos’s hand into his own. “You know why. I would love to spend Christmas with you. Truly, Carlos. I want nothing more than that, but my parents would never allow it. We could be friends publicly, but anything more than that...”

Carlos felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. “I thought you didn’t care about blood purity. You’re friends with halfbloods and muggleborns alike. All this time you’ve said you were okay with waiting to tell people about us for my sake, but you never wanted anyone to know ever.”

“It’s not like that, Carlos. I would love to tell people. But you know how my parents are. They would never accept someone muggleborn into the family.”

“So you’re just going to listen to them then? Follow their stupid belief that purebloods and muggleborns can’t mix.”

“I wish things were different.” Ben gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “If you weren’t muggleborn, I’d tell everyone about you, I swear.”

Carlos smiled, but there was no happiness behind it. He felt a coldness in his chest. He’d expected this kind of behavior from his ex. Chad had actually called him that ugly word on the daily. “My precious mudblood,” like it was supposed to be a compliment. Chad was a pureblood Slytherin, and his family was obsessed with blood purity. He’d been upfront that their relationship had to remain secret.

But Ben had lied to him. He’d made him think this time would be different, and that made it all the worse. It didn’t matter that Carlos had proven himself time and again. He was top of his class and had earned more house points for Ravenclaw than any other member of his house, including his best friend Evie. But he was still muggleborn, and that would always follow him.

“I can’t do this,” Carlos said, feeling that everything inside the room was wrong.

“Can’t do what?” Ben’s eyes filled with concern.

Carlos hated what he was about to do, but he couldn’t stand to be with someone who had lied to him, someone who would never be open about their relationship. He couldn’t live his life in the shadows. “I can’t be with you anymore. You don’t understand what it’s like for me, to have to always date in secret. To have every person I’ve ever been with be too ashamed to introduce me to anyone. All because I have ‘dirty blood.’ You’re supposed to be kind and loyal. Isn’t that what Hufflepuffs are all about? I thought things would be different with you, but they’re not. It’s all the same as it’s ever been.”

“Hey, hey.” Ben pulled him into a hug. “I’m not ashamed of you. I told you, I don’t care about all that blood supremacy crap the Slytherins are so keen on. Chad Charming, Audrey Rose, and Anthony Tremaine can preach it all they want, but I’m not like them. I promise.”

Carlos pushed Ben away. “Then why do we have to stay a secret?”

“Because…” Ben looked hesitant, like he was afraid to tell him the real reason.

“Please, Ben, don’t lie to me. You’ve done enough of that already.”

Ben straightened his shoulders, nodding. “Okay, I’ll tell you the truth, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Ben smiled. “I know. You’re tough. I really like that about you. Listen, Carlos, the truth is, I already told my parents about you. Not you specifically, but that I was dating a boy who was muggleborn. They were both happy I found someone I really care about, but my father asked me to keep our relationship a secret. He wants to be the new Minister for Magic, you see. If people find out his son is dating someone muggleborn, he’ll lose the support of most of the purebloods. This is his dream, Carlos. I can’t risk ruining that for him.”

“Hogwash,” Carlos said, disgusted. “You hate your father. Ever since you got sorted into Hufflepuff instead of following your family legacy of Gryffindors, he’s treated you like crap. So the only reason I can see you supporting him is if you’re hoping to gain something once he’s the Minister for Magic.”

Ben bit his lip. “It’s for the good of the wizarding community. I want to make things equal between all classes. No more blood supremacy. No more house elves enslaved to wizards. If he becomes the Minister, I’ll have a chance of getting a high-ranking position at the Ministry once I graduate. I can make a real difference, make everyone’s lives better, and then one day it won’t matter to anyone else that you’re muggleborn. We can be open about everything then.”

“It’s a beautiful dream, Ben, but it’ll never happen,” Carlos said. “Two wizarding wars and everything is still the same. Chad and Anthony still bully me. Audrey still hexes me any chance she gets. Professor Honeymaren still tells me I’m doing well for a muggleborn, and she’s one of the nicer teachers. I actually think it’s gotten worse for muggleborns since the Second Wizarding War.”

Ben opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then closed it. He nodded, rubbing his hands together. “I can see this relationship would never have worked anyways. I need to be with someone who believes in me.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You’ve said enough, Carlos. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Shoulders hunched, Ben turned around and walked out of the room.

The Christmas decorations disappeared into thin air, all the cheer gone with his departure. Carlos sank bad into the armchair, hugging his legs to his chest. He leaned his head on his knees and let himself cry.

His gaze shifted to the table where the cookies had been. Now it held a tissue box and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. He huffed. “Seriously, you stupid room. It just had to be Ben’s favorite brand.”

The ice cream disappeared as if the room had heard him. This was going to be a miserable Christmas.

…

Ben knelt down in front of his suitcase in his dormitory. He folded his black-and-yellow knitted scarf and placed it gingerly beside his Wizard Card collection. Many of the cards had been gifts from Carlos. He had a particular talent for finding and trading cards with fellow wizards. Even Ben who was incredibly social could never navigate the world of Wizard Trading Cards at Hogwarts so well as Carlos.

He put his Alchemy textbook on top of the card collection, determined to get Carlos off his mind. They had broken up. It had been mutual. This would be better for both of them. They wouldn’t have to be paranoid about sneaking around all the time. He’d be able to focus on Quidditch more. Maybe his team could even win the Quidditch Cup this year.

“You look sad.”

Ben looked up, startled.

Gil sat on the bed across from him. He was knitting another scarf in Hufflepuff colors. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine, man. It’s just, you’re getting to go home for the holidays when a lot of us aren’t. My parents are muggles, and they hate that I’m a wizard. They only take me back in the summer because they have to. And my brothers bully me the whole time.”

“It’s hard to imagine anyone bullying you,” Ben admitted. Gil was so strong, the best beater the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had ever seen.

“They’re bigger and stronger than me. I’ve always been the runt of the family.” Gil looked sheepish.

Ben was afraid to see what the rest of Gil’s family looked like. Maybe something like the giants he’d seen in his textbooks. “I’m sorry about your family.”

Gil shrugged. “It is what it is. You’re incredibly lucky, Ben. I’d be happy if I had a loving family to go back to, that’s all I’m saying.” He smiled shyly and looked down at his knitting.

“You’re right,” Ben said, suddenly feeling like Hogwarts’s biggest idiot. Gil had a remarkable talent for seeing the heart of the matter while Ben got caught up in the details. “Why am I going home for Christmas, when I could do so much good here?”

He’d been so caught up on getting into politics that he’d forgotten he could help the people around him. So many kids didn’t have happy homes to go back to, Carlos included. Okay, so maybe a part of him wanted to do this to win Carlos back, but mostly he wanted to practice what he preached. He would be welcoming and warm to all the students at Hogwarts, regardless of their blood status.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to guilt you into staying. I was just trying to cheer you up.”

Ben laughed, closing his suitcase. He would unpack everything later. Right now he had plans to make. “You did that too. Don’t worry, Gil. I want to stay. I’m going to make this the best Christmas ever for all the sixth-years staying over the holidays.”

Gil dropped his knitting, beaming from ear-to-ear. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I’ll show you what a wizard Christmas is like. It’ll be, well, magical.”

Gil giggled, absolutely delighted.

Ben knew it would take a lot of work putting together everything, and he didn’t have a lot of time, but he knew just who to ask for help.

He found her in the common room helping a fourth-year, Artie Pendragon, decorate a Christmas card. They were seated at one of the round tables, art supplies piled up high on top of it.

“Hey, Jane.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “When you’re free, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, we’re almost done.” She set the glue stick aside and handed the card to Artie. “Just write your message on the inside. Make it special. I’m sure your mother will love it.” She stood up, beaming. “What is it, Ben?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Jane laughed. “I’d better bundle up then. I am not used to all this snow.”

Ben chuckled, pulling his gloves from his jacket pocket. “Me neither.”

Outside the air was nippy, but Ben found it to be refreshing. It felt like he was looking at Hogwarts in the snow for the first time. Usually he was in such a rush to get home for the holidays. He barely paid any attention to the snow-capped castle. It was truly breath-taking.

“Are you heading home soon?” Jane asked.

“No, I’m actually staying for Christmas this year.”

Jane perked up, her blue eyes wide. Her whole face brightened. “Oh, Ben, that’s wonderful. I’m staying too. I was going to go see my uncle again, but he cancelled at the last minute. Being the head of the Department of Magical Education keeps him busy. You know how that is.”

Ben did. His father was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had started as an auror and risen through the ranks. Some years he was barely home for the holidays, but thankfully his mother was always there to keep him company.

“I want to host a Christmas party for all the sixth-years staying for the holidays,” Ben announced.

“Oh, really? That’s amazing, Ben, but what gave you that idea? It’s not like you to give up your holidays like that.”

“Yes, that’s exactly the problem. It should be like me. I care about all the students at Hogwarts, and during the holidays a lot of them don’t have families who accept them. Gil was telling me about his awful family. I can’t believe I’ve been so selfish all these years. I have to do something for these kids, Jane.”

Jane jumped up and down, grabbing onto Ben’s arm. “That’s perfect. I wonder why I never thought of that either. And here I was planning how I would manage to sneak all the best foods out of the kitchens so I could have a Christmas feast in my room. Talk about selfish.”

Ben laughed. “Carlos would say that is such a Hufflepuff thing to say.”

“Carlos?” Jane eyed him curiously. “I didn’t realize you guys were friends.”

Ben took a deep breath, wondering if this was the right thing to do. Carlos had wanted everyone to know about them, so telling Jane would be okay, right? “We’re not. But I’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.” 

“You like him?” Jane guessed, smiling.

“I do. I really, really do. And I told my parents, but they don’t want me to tell anyone else.”

“Because he’s a boy? Weren’t you and Aziz a thing for a little while?”

Ben nodded. “My parents loved Aziz because he’s a pureblood and a Gryffindor. They actually tried to convince me not to break up with him when I got tired of him being so ‘on’ all the time, you know?”

“Oh, and Carlos is muggleborn. I forgot about that. But Gil’s muggleborn too, and your parents don’t care that you’re friends with him.”

“But they would care if I was dating him. My dad wants to be the Minister for Magic. He needs the support of the purebloods to get elected.”

Jane sighed, shaking her head. “Blood politics are ridiculous, you know that? You shouldn’t care about how your dating life will affect your father. It’s your life. Live it. If you like Carlos, then you should go for him. He’s staying for the holidays, right? I’m sure we could arrange a romantic moment alone for the two of you so you could confess your feelings for him. Awww, Ben, you could get together on Christmas.”

“Don’t get carried away. I would love to date him, but I’d have to keep it a secret.”

“That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m dating Gil.” She cracked a smile.

“Wait, you are?”

“Yeah. It’s not like we’ve been trying to hide it. I don’t care that his parents are muggles, and he doesn’t care that I come from a long, long line of purebloods. It really doesn’t have to be as complicated as you’re making it out to be.”

“I know, I know. But you’re not me. Everyone expects so much from me. I’m a Florian. Our family name means something around here. I can’t let my father down.”

Jane put her hand on his arm. “But you’re letting yourself down. Doing good things for other people is certainly nice, but you need to do things for yourself too. You can’t live your life entirely for other people. What do you want, Ben?”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been asked that before, but the answer was clear to him. “I want to be with Carlos.”

…

Carlos was studying with Evie, Jay, and Mal in the library. Well, Carlos and Evie were studying. Jay and Mal were goofing off as usual. The two Gryffindors had never cared much for getting good grades.

They had all finished their exams, anyways. Carlos was just studying to get his mind off Ben, and Evie rarely left a book for more than a few minutes at a time. Unless of course she was spending time alone with her girlfriend Mal. Right now Mal was leaning against her, fiddling with a new toy she’d picked up at the joke shop.

“Where are we going to celebrate Christmas this year?” Carlos asked offhandedly. “The Room of Requirement again?”

“Actually, Ben has already booked the Room of Requirement,” Jay said, tossing a sugar quill at Mal, who caught it in her teeth. She broke the quill in half and offered a portion to Evie, who took it with a gleeful smile and kissed Mal on the cheek.

“Are you serious?” Carlos asked. “But I thought he was going home for the break.”

Jay shrugged. “I guess he changed his mind. Gil said he’s planning a big party for the sixth-years.”

Evie perked up, chewing on her sugar quill. “Oh, we should go to that then. It’s a lot of work to organize our own party every year.” She gave Carlos a look. Every year the two of them ended up doing all the work.

Carlos wasn’t really sure how to feel about all this. Ben was staying for the holidays and hadn’t told him. Had he known when they met in the Room of Requirement yesterday?

“I don’t know,” Carlos said. “It’ll probably be a bunch of purebloods. Doesn’t sound like much fun.”

Evie shot him an annoyed glare. She clearly did not want to waste time with decorations this year.

“Most of the purebloods have gone home for the holidays,” Mal said, examining her nails. “I think the only purebloods there will be Ben and Jane. Maybe Ally and Jordan. All good people.”

“But we don’t know any of them very well,” Carlos argued.

Jay laughed, chewing on the end of his sugar quill. “Speak for yourself, I’ve flirted with Jane, Ally, and Jordan. Probably all the girls in our year.”

“Even Mal?” Evie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jay shrugged his shoulders. “You guys weren’t dating yet, and she shot me down so fast.”

Mal laughed, reaching for her girlfriend’s hand. “You have nothing to worry about, Evie.” They shared a quick kiss, and Evie relaxed against her, lowering her book into her lap.

“I’m wondering who I should try to kiss under the mistletoe this year,” Jay said. “Maybe Jane?”

“No, she’s dating Gil LeGume,” Mal said. “Aren’t you guys friends? Don’t want to mess with the bro code.” She chuckled darkly.

“Maybe I’ll kiss Carlos then.” He waggled his eyebrows at him.

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Not a chance.” Jay was just joking about kissing him, and even if he wasn’t, Carlos was too hung up on Ben to think about kissing anyone else.

“I guess I’ll just have to see who’s at the party. If all else fails, I can always snag a kiss from Ben Florian.”

Carlos clutched his book tightly, fighting hard not to react. It was okay if Jay kissed Ben. It wasn’t like he owned Ben or anything. But the thought of the two of them together in public, with Ben not ashamed to be seen with Jay. It brought him a special kind of hurt.

“As if Ben would kiss you,” Mal said with a laugh.

Carlos jumped. For a moment it felt like the words were directed at him, but she was smiling at Jay. Of course.

“Anyways, I think Evie and I have a much better shot with him.” Mal smiled wickedly. “The more the merrier on Christmas, right?”

Carlos picked up his books. “I just remembered I’m supposed to meet Doug to work on a project.”

“A’ight. See you later.” Jay saluted him.

No one even questioned that he was working on a project on the first day of winter break. Maybe it was because they assumed he was studious enough that he would start on it an entire month early, or maybe they just didn’t care that much about him. Either way, he could sense he was going to have a lonely Christmas this year.

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home-Chapter 4

Warnings: Fluff. Language. 

The door to the creamery pulled open with ease beneath his ample muscles, and you wondered if he had ever accidentally broken things unaware of his own strength and abilities. The place was a new addition to the corner since you had last walked these streets, but was there ever such thing as ‘bad ice cream’?

“What’ll it be, Ms. Calvert? How about you save us a seat, and I’ll order?” He pulled out a black diner chair from a round table in the farthest corner of the quaint place. “They do have a mocha flavor that I would highly recommend though.”

You realized your hood was still up on your noisy raincoat even now inside, but you casually stalled removing it in his presence afraid your witchy, tangled locks would frighten him.

  “I’ll take your word for it then.” You handed him some cash you thought enough to cover your scoop, and he scoffed, pushing it back at you with super-hero reflexes.

“Your money is no good here, Mills. Don’t even think about it! Let me treat you, will ya’? I can’t take the risk of a tabloid snapping a pic of Steve Rogers letting a lady pay. You’d ruin me.”

God, he was all too much. The shit-eating, almost satanically handsome smile, added to his already chiseled, yet soft face. And the way he would chew on his lip like it was a popping piece of bubblegum nearly made you want to cry. We won’t even discuss the charm, though.

When his backed turned to you, your let your loose hair escape from under the cover of your coat, and Dodger watched you with judgement at your feet.

“How’s it look, boy? We don’t want your dad running the other way, do we.” You used the blank face of your phone to give yourself a once over, and applied some drug-store chap-stick to your lips for precautionary purposes, of course.

Chris paid the server, and gracefully carried your two scoops, his own, and a special treat for his canine companion over to you attentively. Placing one delicious treat in front of a very eager dog, he scooted the other empty seat closer toward your side of the table.

“A sweet for a sweetie.” He served you, releasing a breath of relief when he sat. He attempted a straight face, trying to make the line work, but lost his nerve and puffed out an uncontrollable laugh.

Sure, it was ridiculously overused, and probably classified as grounds for hysterical heckling to most. But, the cutesy compliment seemed to somehow pass off as endearing coming from someone such as he. So, you just thanked him, and laughed alongside.

“I should thank you again, Chris. For what you did with your friend, and the magazine. It was so beyond generous of you.” You licked the contents off the upside-down spoon between your lips bashfully. “But… I mean… I guess I’m just trying to figure it all out. How did you know? About what my blog even consisted of and stuff.”

He wasn’t making eye contact, but you could see the shadow of his lashes flutter into a smile as he played more with his treat than ate it.

“Okay. Confession?” He answered, leaning in closer to you. The chill of his breath from the bites of ice cream he had taken in felt like ice blended with fire across your face.

He had hired a PI to follow you and track your phone records for the last week. And he had searched the web history of your laptop seeing the fashion vlogs you kept up with, but also discovered all the times you had Googled his name?

You gulped.

“I have a fake account on social media, and I’ve followed you for a year or so now. Your mom sent a Christmas card and your picture was on it. Made me think about how I hadn’t seen you in so long. So, I searched you, found you, and I’ve sort of had a little insight into your life since.” The point of his tongue poked into his cheek, as he scratched a light graze through his hair. Appearing ashamed, or uncomfortable for some reason.

“Why a fake account, Chris? I mean, I would’ve loved to hear from you, silly.”

“There are all sorts of those people online pretending to be celebrities, and asking for money ‘n shit. I don’t ever want my friends to think they’re getting scammed under false pretenses. Thought it just the best idea, ya’ know.”

Dodger had finished his cup before it had even slightly melted, and a sticky, sugary sheen had settled into his whiskers. He rested his head on folded paws, closing his eyes due to the probable brain freeze.  

“In turn, that’s how I knew you were so damn talented, Amelia. You work hard, and I just think you should have something to show for it. Especially after that assho-“

“Wait.” You broke in. “What exactly do you know about that asshole?”

Laying it all out on the table, well most of it, and clearing the air of any falsified details that were embellished along the towns game of telephone seemed the mature decision.

Chris cleared his throat, and stretched, resting an arm over the back of your chair, appearing to get comfortable for whatever confessions to come. You could feel his hand almost reach out to pet over your back, but he pulled away frightened it may be out of line.

“Well, I heard… Mhmm…. I heard that you ran into his office one day in a jealous rage after he had hired a very…endowed paralegal. And when you just wouldn’t give up the feeling you had about him sleeping with her, he kicked you out. Then, you saw him out with the same bimbo a week later.” He closed his eyes, his face uncomfortable at the awkward timeline of your less than lucky turn in your relationship.

You palmed your own miserable face, exasperation and defeated mortification written on your every piece of reddening flesh. You felt shameful tears trickle before you could halt the unbreaking emotion.

“That’s what people are saying? Truly, that is what’s going around? I thought you said you heard everything from my mom, Chris?”

“I only heard you were getting a divorce from her, sweetheart. I didn’t get the rundown. That little tidbit I heard from my sister.”

The story had become much more potently twisted than you had ever expected, and it seemed somehow even from another state, your ex, Ben, had taken stance as the innocent party in matters. This jumbled wheel of false information would take much more effort than you were willing to give to clear up.

“God, no. No, no, no, no, no! That’s beyond the truth, Chris. I was afraid the story had been misconstrued, but not to this level. I literally saw him on his knees over top of her. Naked. In the floor of his office with his tie around her wrists…” You wiped your eyes, as if somehow the entire disaster would disappear if you could clear your frazzled, blurry sight.

“Welcome to my life, Millie.” The man huffed.

Here you had the gall to complain about a little nonsense murmuring around the neighborhood, and in the last year Chris had been in the scummy tabloids linked to several women, partying ‘too hard’ after a spilt, and deemed and ‘ass man’. Who really had it worse here?

“I don’t know how the hell you do it. I’m sorry. I had no right to complain whatsoever.”

He peeped to his left out the store-front window, only moving his eyeballs.

“Well, you’ll find out exactly what it’s like when that shithead with a camera standing out front slaps us on his headline tomorrow.”

Sure enough, carelessly in the middle of the street, stood a long-haired man in a ballcap, snapping pixelated images of you two seated in the dim corner of the café.

“I can see it now.” You announced, spreading your hands like examining a marquee sign. “Captain America spotted with unimpressive blonde woman at downtown creamery.”

Chris gestured a smile, but boldly reached up the squeeze the back of your neck under rain dampened hair. “Blonde, maybe. Unimpressive? Gimme a break, Millie. Don’t play fuckin’ bashful with me.” His subtle massages over the heat of your neck had you squirming in the seat below you. Maybe, you were pretending it was his leg. But that’s nobody’s business.

He saw something apparently you did not. Was there a memo you had missed?

“If you don’t know what the hell that dimply little devilish smile does to people, then you are sincerely misusing a weapon of mass destruction. Calvert.”

“Me?!” Some harlot buried inside of you possessed your body, and you scooted your chair an inch or two closer to him, punctuating your flirting with a squeeze to his thigh. “How about you put those oceans on each side of your nose away, Evans. And fess up to those lash extensions, will ya’?”

He wanted to kiss you. Or his tongue did anyway as it played and begged circles around his own lush lips. But not here. Not yet. Not for the world to see and break the internet.

He ruffled his hair, clearing the lumpy mass of battling self-control in his throat. You smiled, purposely, adding to his obvious already demise.

“Amelia fuckin’ Calvert, A trip you are, my dear.”

As he stood up, gathering the empty cups of sugary cream, he noticeably adjusted himself nearest his screaming manhood, and your eyes abandoned all loyalty to catch a glimpse. You followed him in standing, scratching a head over Dodgers head who had already risen to catch his owners’ heels.

“If it weren’t for this guy, I don’t think I would’ve accepted your dessert invitation. How could I say no to him after he spent his hard-earned allowance on that beautiful rose?”

“Well, I’m glad you two troublemakers have taken a liking to each other. You can keep him company some when I leave in two weeks.” Chris held the door open for you, carefully grazing the small of your back.

“Leaving?” No doubt he sensed the dread in your voice.

“Yep. We start filming on the 28th, so I’ll be wheels up the day before.”

The rain had passed on for the day, and Dodger was curious and keen to investigate every puddle planted on the sidewalk. He shifted too abruptly to the right, nudging your legs. You toppled, and tripped over your own feet towards Chris’ bubble, and he caught you by the hand. He didn’t have to do so by lacing his fingers into yours, or lingering there as long as he did, but you wouldn’t dare utter an objection.

“So, I expect you let me give you that tour of the house before I leave…..”

Mental note: Use your every dime of savings to buy the most lush set of lingerie on the continent.

Oh, you wretched, nymphomaniac. Don’t flatter yourself.

“What. The. Shit.”

Your lady-like cursing confused the flamboyantly kittenish man stepping in unison beside you, and he followed your suit to halt.

“Chris…” Your head hurt already from the deep v of your inquisitive brow. “My car, Chris. Where is my car?”

He looked upward at the street signs, double-checking that his distracted mind hadn’t discombobulated his sense of direction, and you had taken a wrong turn along the way. You immediately searched the deep pockets of your crossbody for your phone, and cringed, dropping your head back in defeat seeing a text from your once husband.

Shithead: Just getting all my affairs in order before we sign the divorce papers. Ooops, so happens your car was in my name.

“Mills. Talk to me. What’s happening?” Chris searched your face for some clue.

“I’m now carless. Along with homeless, and for the most part jobless. All thanks to my so overly generous husband, it seems.” You didn’t feel a shred of hurt, or pain, or sadness. But your dignity, and pride? Man, talk about shattered with an atom bomb.

“Not if I have anything to say about it, you’re not. Come with me. Let’s play with this son of a bitch a bit, shall we.”

As if you already didn’t want to mount him in the broad daylight….

TAGS: @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration

[umaspirateship]

“All Was Quiet”

@descendantssecretsanta​ gift for @malicebertha

After Christmas, Mal thought, it was like the whole castle had fallen into a deep sleep. The decorations were still up, the fires still roaring in the fireplaces, the snow still settling on the ground. Even the lake was silent, the water rushing soundlessly beneath a thick layer of ice. She’d made the trek out there, wrapped up in a thick coat, scarf, and hand-knit hat, after lunch, and watched as the sun, from where it peaked out behind the clouds, threw sparkles over the ground.

It was too quiet.

Mal wondered how her mother bore the endless quiet of the kingdom for a hundred years, how she wanted it to last a hundred more.

She’d gone to the Enchanted Lake again hoping that she’d be able to get her head back on the right way. Instead, she’d worked herself into a state, and soon found herself walking back to the dorms, furious.

There wasn’t anyone around, even, to appreciate her sharp and burning glares! They’d all left, to home, for the holidays. Which Mal hadn’t minded, at first. Ben had stuck around, after all, and had organized all the typical Christmas activities for them. They’d decorated the tree, drank hot cocoa, had snowball fights, and gathered around the fire to open presents. But now, in the silent hallways of Auradon Prep, it was almost like Mal could hear all of the voices of the people who had left.

Lonnie had taken off almost as soon as the final bell rang, hoping to catch the first train out in time to make it home before the blizzard hit. She’d stopped just long enough to give Mal a hug, and a small gift. “A token,” she’d said, “from my family.” Mal had turned it over in her hands a few times, trying to work out the details. “It’s supposed to give you good dreams,” Lonnie said as they walked together towards the front doors. “But it works as an ornament, too, if you tie a ribbon on the top.”

Mal had placed it on her nightstand, lying snugly on top of her spellbook, and wished for it to work. She kept it there, even after the tree went up, and looked at it when she couldn’t sleep.

She missed Jane, too, despite all the trouble she’d caused. Well. It had saved Mal from a lot of trouble, in the end, anyway. Jane had given her the chance to choose Good, and anything could be forgiven in Auradon. Besides, they’d grown close, and, by the end of the semester, found themselves studying together in the library to prepare for their Introductory History of Auradon final. Jane had even stayed a little after term ended, fluttering around the castle and wrapping things up before the holidays before Ben had rather passive-aggressively peer pressured her into going home to celebrate with her mom. Jane’s gift had come in the mail two days before Christmas and had come out of the plain brown mailing box bright blue with a giant bow.

“I’m not really artsy like you, or like Evie,” read Jane’s card, “But I hope you like it. It’s always best to be cozy during the holidays, and I hope I can help with that a little!” It was a pillow with cross-stitching splashed tastefully on the front cover. Little blue snowflakes fell in a white cotton sky, and little versions of Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos, were standing in the snow, making a snowman. On the back, in smaller text, read For Good Friends, Merry Christmas, Jane, 2015. She’d carefully handstitched the message on a small red cloth, and sewn it on the back. Mal liked the art, but almost liked the message even more. “For good friends.” She wished Jane had been there to give it to her in person, so she could thank her for real. Mal had never been good at communicating through letters, and even on the Isle would prefer to go in person than send a message through a middleman. And, now that she was feeling more confident about herself, Jane had a smile that could light up the room and could give hugs so comforting they were becoming famous among their friends. There were lots of things about a person, Mal thought, that you couldn’t really experience when they weren’t there.

Mal even, to her horror, missed Audrey. Audrey was bossy, and selfish, and thought everyone else was beneath her. But, then again, so was Uma, and Mal had been friends with her for a while before the ruthlessness of the Isle had torn them apart. Or, well. Before Mal had self-sabotaged their friendship. Even Mal herself was bossy, and selfish, a lot of the time. She’d keep things to herself, hide her plans, and always expected her orders to be followed, without explanation. She cared about her friends, but everyone else she mistrusted. She still wasn’t sure there wasn’t some secret con or scheme behind every dazzling bright Auradon smile. She respected Audrey for that, at least, that she was upfront about who she was. She was royalty, Audrey always snapped, and that meant making and using connections, to her own benefit. “You wouldn’t understand,” she’d tell Mal, whenever asked about some new element of Auradon court life. But Mal did understand and thought it fascinating. Mal had been top in her Evil Schemes class at Serpent Prep, thank you very much. Eventually, Audrey had given up shoving Mal away every time she bothered her in the hall. “You may not have manners,” Audrey would humph, obviously still mad, “But I do.”

It did get easier, being friends, after Mal and Ben had broken up. Mal wished it hadn’t happened. Or that it hadn’t impacted her friendship with Audrey so much. But suddenly, Audrey found that Mal wasn’t so different from her after all, since she wasn’t wearing her Ben-tinted glasses. Well. Mal said “friends,” because that’s what you called everyone in Auradon you talked to. But she still saw Audrey as her rival (and Audrey still saw her as a nuisance). It was thrilling and hilarious and exciting. Mal loved it. So it wasn’t that much of a surprise when, rather than give her a present, Audrey said, “You would just steal anything you wanted, anyway, so there’s no point in buying you a gift.” Mal replied, “And if you wanted something, you would have already convinced someone to buy it for you.” Audrey had rolled her eyes and stalked off, calling over her shoulder, “I’m leaving because I’m late for Calculus, so don’t think you’ve won!” Mal wished she was here, because then, at least, she’d have some way to release all this pent-up anger.

And Mal WAS angry. She was angry that her friends were far away, that she was alone. She was mad that it was so quiet, it put her off, and mad her feel like something was awfully wrong. She was furious that she’d never been able to experience an Auradon Christmas before and now, just after her first one was finished, she was spending time thinking about her mother of all people. Her mother who was still a lizard trapped in her room. Mal thought about going back to their dorm, but thinking about the little lizard lounging about in its cage next to her bed just made her spiral even further into frustration.

Mal didn’t know what to do.

“Woah,” came a voice from the floor lounge. “Where are you going so fast? You sure you don’t want to try out for the team?”

“No Jay,” Mal said, coming to a stop in front of the couch where he was sitting. “I don’t want to play tourney. It’s bad enough having to listen to you and Carlos and Ben blabber on about it all the time.”

“Hey, no need to be rude,” Jay said, grinning, “You love coming to our games, and you know it.”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Mal said. She flopped down on the couch and sighed.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jay asked. “I can always go watch Carlos play that videogame he made me buy him.”

“Isn’t that a singleplayer game?”

“Yeah, well I said I was just going to watch, didn’t I? Plenty of people watch gaming videos on the internet.”

Mal rolled her eyes. “As exciting as that sounds, Carlos probably doesn’t want to be bothered right now. You know how he gets with new tech.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jay said. He fell silent, watching her thoughtfully as she glared at the wall.

“Got anything I can punch?” Mal asked after a while.

“Isn’t the holiday season supposed to be about goodwill and cheer?” Jay said, laying his head on her shoulder. “Who pissed you off this time?”

“No one. The air. My mom. I don’t know.” Mal laid her head against his and frowned. “Why is Auradon so goddamn confusing? I don’t even know what I’m angry about anymore.”

“Didn’t you like the holidays?” Jay asked. “I thought you had fun. At least a little.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“But?”

“What happens now, Jay?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jay said, lifting his head from underneath hers so he could look her in the eyes properly.

“Now that it’s over,” Mal said. “I mean. Haven’t you noticed how quiet it is around here?”

“Yeah, I suppose. It’s weird being at school when there’s no one else here.”

Mal stood up and waved her hands around, “That’s it! That’s it exactly! Everyone kept going on and on about being home for the holidays, and it was fine, when we were busy, distracted, whatever. But now that the celebrations are over, everyone’s still gone, and we’re not home! We’re at school! It’s weird Jay!”

“Well, yeah. We’ll always be different. We’re villain kids, it makes us who we are.”

“But I just want to spend a holiday where things make sense,” said Mal. “I guess Maleficent ruined that for me, forever.”

“Not entirely,” Jay said. “Look, Mal. We’re at school, yeah, but we’re home, just as much as we’ve ever been. We have each other’s backs, that’s why we’re family. Do you want something to punch? Then I’ll find you something to punch. But personally? I think we should find Evie and Carlos first. Come on.” Jay stood and started heading down the hall. “I think Evie’s in her room, messing with her new serger.”

Jay and Mal found themselves dragging Evie and Carlos out of their rooms, away from their shiny new toys, and into one of the classrooms at the back of the library.

“Why are we here?” asked Carlos looking around.

“I wanted to pick someplace that wasn’t covered in Christmas decorations,” said Jay. “This is the closest place I could find.”

“Aren’t there still Christmas lights on the windows?” Evie asked, pointing.

“Like I said, somewhere that isn’t covered in decorations.”

“Okay, whatever man,” said Carlos, “But why are we here? I was almost to level nine!”

Mal sat on one of the desks and crossed her arms when Jay sent her a look. Evie, glancing quickly between the two of them, hummed. Carlos threw his hands up, “Well? What’s going on?”

Evie spoke first. “You know, I never thought winter break could be so lonely. We’ve all sort of grown to be independent people, I guess, since we don’t need to stay so close here. But, now that everyone’s gone, it just means I spend a lot of time stuck in my own head. I’ve made four dresses since Christmas, four, and they’ve all turned out a mess!”

“I keep feeling like I should be studying,” Carlos let out a little laugh as he spoke, “And I’m even starting to miss playing tourney if you can believe it.”

Mal smiled a little and said, “I’m starting to hear Audrey’s voice nagging me when I’m alone. You don’t think I’m going nuts?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Jay said, “I’m pretty sure that’s just a sign you care about her.”

“You jerk!” Mal said, leaning over farther so she could shove him a little. “You didn’t tell us why we’re here, anyway. Stop dragging on and get to the point.”

“I thought, maybe,” he said, “We could make this place feel a bit more like home? I know we’re still at school. Like, I literally brought us to a classroom. But. Any place can be home if we add the right touch.”

“Oh my gods,” Evie said, putting her head in her hands. “You’re going to make us play Villainous.”

“Yessssss,” Carlos pumped his hands up and down, “I’m going to win!”

“Remember rule one!” Jay said, grinning, as they chanted in unison, “Mal always wins.”

Mal smiled and pushed up her sleeves. This was better than punching something. It was better than stalking around the Enchanted Lake in the snow.

“It’s a good thing we’re in this classroom,” Mal said, “Because you’re all about to get schooled!”

Christmas traditions were nice and all, Mal thought as they raced around the classroom, (Jay nearly tackling Carlos when he won the crown for the second time) but in the lonely and quiet hours after the holidays, and before school was back in session, there was no place like being here, with her friends. Being home.

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 5 - Ben, Jerry and Alfred

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier 

CHAPTER FIVE Ben, Jerry and Alfred

.

By mid Sunday afternoon, Matthew still hadn't managed to drag himself from the couch where he had fallen the night before. After almost a month in this city, the small grey apartment living room he lay in still wasn't completely furnished. A low, uncovered coffee table stood between the only couch and the television, while only a small bar fridge sat in the adjoining kitchen. Most of Matthew's belongings were currently in suitcases or in storage, which would make things easier, he supposed, when he moved town. Which, after the events of the previous evening, should be any day now.

Matthew lay against the nest of cushions and pillows he'd made for himself, steadily making his way through an entire bottle of maple syrup as he watched ancient re-runs of Degrassi High on the soap channel. The silly Canadian melodrama was only making him feel worse, but he could not summon the energy to change the channel. Matthew couldn't summon the energy to do anything but lie, unmoving, trying unsuccessfully to forget and regret the entire last week of his life. But he couldn't. All he could think of was Francis.

Matthew swallowed another gulp of maple syrup, ignoring the slightly queasy feeling growing in his stomach. Okay, so he'd met a nice guy, had a good time, and it hadn't worked out. So? That sort of thing happened all the time when people dated. Probably. Matthew wouldn't really know. Regardless, it wasn't a big deal. Francis just wanted something different from what Matthew was looking for. Francis wanted a short-term fling. Matthew wanted a relationship. And he was being all silly and upset because he had mistakenly believed Francis wanted the same. But really, this was good thing, Matthew tried insistently to tell himself. It was a relief to know, now, before anyone got really hurt. Besides, Francis wasn't even the type of man Matthew would normally look twice at. Too showy, too brash, too much. But he was also funny, and sexy, and strangely charming - and Matthew had fallen for him headfirst after only a few days.

Matthew shook that last thought from his head. No, he was not going to continue being distraught over this. He was not going to mope and cry and mourn over a man he barely knew, however special that man made him feel; however bright he made the days; however brilliant his eyes or perfect his smile or captivating his laugh or… Matthew gritted his teeth, squeezed the maple syrup bottle, and abruptly hurled it at the TV. "Oh, Caitlin, when will you learn?" he shouted at the ridiculous soap opera on screen. "Joey's only going to keep hurting you!"

A knock sounded suddenly at the door, loud and long and frantic. "Go away," Matthew muttered, hugging a cushion to his chest. The obnoxious pounding refused to stop, however, so Matthew reluctantly got to his feet and dragged himself across the room. He groaned the second he threw open the door.

"Matt, thank goodness!" Alfred spoke breathlessly, a huge overnight bag slung over his shoulder and overflowing plastic bags in his hands. He looked like he had run all the way from America. Knowing Alfred, he probably had. "I came as soon as I could!"

Matthew blinked in surprise. Of all the things he did not expect on his doorstep today… "Why?"

"Why?" Alfred looked incredulous. "Because you rang me at 3am to tell me you were moving to Antarctica. Please don't move to Antarctica, Matt! That's, like, near Poland or something. What are we supposed to do at Christmas?"

Despite himself, Matthew felt his lips twitch in a tiny smile. Trust his kind, foolish, misguided brother to turn up on his doorstep, in a different country, after a simple late night drunken phone call. "I'm not moving to Antarctica, Al. People say things they don't mean when they're upset."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief, pushed past Matthew, and headed straight to the kitchen. "Good. Although I hear the weather's nice, and living with the kangaroos would be kind of cool. Now I know you're upset, so I brought you ice-cream."

Matthew followed slowly, his heart sinking just a little. Just what he did not need when trying to forget Francis – to be reminded of the one other man who had broken his heart. "You thought, after being dumped, that ice-cream would make me feel better."

"Ice-cream makes everyone feel bet…" Alfred's eyes widened guiltily. "Oh shit, ice-cream was your thing with that Cuban guy, wasn't it? Okay, forget the ice-cream. I also have…" Alfred dropped the dangerously full bags onto the kitchen bench and rifled through them. "Snickers and skittles and twizzlers and ooh, gummi bears, and coke and creaming soda and…"

"Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"Give me the damn ice-cream."

Matthew again sat nestled into his layer of pillows, staring unseeing at the TV, already on his second tub of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice-cream smothered in maple syrup and washed down with copious quantities of coca-cola. Alfred sat beside him on the couch, resting his feet on the candy-littered coffee table, onto his own second tub of Ben and Jerry's AmeriCone Dream. Alfred had quickly hijacked the remote control and had so far scrolled through the cooking channel, a black and white French film, and an old episode of 'McHale's Navy,' all of which reminded Matthew of Francis in one way or another. Alfred was now glued to 'Ice Road Truckers,' which seemed fairly safe. However, despite his best efforts to the contrary, Matthew kept bringing the conversation back to Francis.

"Fifteen, Al. FIFTEEN!"

Alfred whistled. "Must've been sore in the morning."

"But how is it possible?" Matthew gestured with his spoon and ice-cream container, trying to make sense of the logistics. "How do they… where do they… how does everyone even fit? Even if they divide into pairs there's one left over."

"He's probably the one holding the camera."

"Sailors, even." Matthew knew he shouldn't be thinking about this, but he simply couldn't stop himself. Images kept drifting through his head of Francis in various naked acrobatic positions with a veritable legion of faceless men. Most of them wearing little blue and white caps. "Sailors, Al! Have you ever slept with a sailor?"

Alfred paused, thinking, his spoon in mid-air. "No. I almost slept with a coastguard once. Does that count?"

Matthew shrugged dismissively. "Sure, why not."

Alfred dove back into his tub of Ben and Jerry's. "What about you?"

"I've slept with two men, Alfred. Ever." Matthew waved two fingers in Alfred's face. "Two. Meanwhile, Francis has apparently slept with the entire Royal Canadian Navy."

Alfred nodded sagely. "I bet it was the submarine fleet."

Matthew shook his head, the images starting to overwhelm him. "I can't talk about this anymore. I can't. I'm going insane." He dug out a huge spoonful of ice cream, devoured the lot, then immediately asked, "Do you know what he asked me when we first met?"

"To look over his stock portfolio," Alfred answered immediately.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Why does everyone assume I'm an investment banker?"

Alfred looked apologetic. "It's the suit, dude."

"He asked if he could give me a hand. Just like that." Matthew attempted to imitate Francis' heavy accent. "'Can I give you a hand by any chance?'" But even as he spoke derisively, Matthew could picture Francis standing there in his bright, warm patisserie, smiling gently and gesturing gracefully and looking at Matthew like he was the only person in the entire world…

Alfred whistled again. "Well, he's got balls."

Matthew tried to laugh, tried to mock the flashy Frenchman. "He was always like that. Always 'mon cher' and 'my dear' and 'darling…'" Always kind and sensuous and charming… Matthew stabbed his ice cream angrily with his spoon and grumbled. "I mean, how pathetically contrived can you get?"

"Dude. He sounds like a total queen."

"Yes. Well, no. He's just… stupidly charming."

"Bastard. Want me to kick his ass?"

"Yes. Wait, no! Damn it, I'm not talking about this. I'm not thinking about him. I'm changing the subject." Matthew took a swig of coke, passed the bottle to Alfred, then tapped his spoon against his chin. Why was he completely unable to think of anything else? "Okay, you change the subject."

Alfred shrugged. "How's work?"

Matthew groaned. What a terrible change of subject. "Awful. Boring." The only thing that made it bearable was the anticipation of seeing Francis again… Matthew shook the thought from his head and tried to pay attention to 'Ice Road Truckers.' "I think I should quit being an accountant."

Alfred looked at him, startled. "Really?"

"Yeah." Matthew immediately began considering his options for changing jobs, moving town, and forgetting the last week in this city had ever happened. He gestured to the screen with his spoon. "I could do this, you know. I could move to Alaska and be a trucker." The solitude, the cold, the ever-present chance of falling through a hole in the ice. It sounded rather appealing. "In fact, I think I might."

"That'd be cool," said Alfred, impressed. "You could be on the show and everything. Or you could move to Louisiana and catch gators. Or be a bounty hunter. Ooh, Matt, be a bounty hunter!"

"Hmm. There's a thought." Matthew gave Alfred a tiny smile. "You could join me."

Alfred gasped loudly. "I totally could! Matt, we'd be so awesome, busting crims and wearing leather and drinking in taverns and we'd be…" Alfred's face froze in some sort of silent comprehension, his wide eyes lighting up. "We'd be like Boba Fett!"

Matthew laughed, easily remembering just what he missed about Alfred. His brother could always make him smile – even when he frustrated the hell out of him. "We could start an agency. The 'Williams-Jones Fugitive Recovery Service.'"

"Dude, that'd be so cool, except…" Alfred's face fell. "Except the NFL's got me under contract for another two years at least."

Matthew smiled softly. "Oh well. Maybe one day." Both brothers went back to their tubs of Ben and Jerry's, dreams of bounty hunting quickly forgotten. "How is work going, anyway? I heard you won some little game last week."

"Yeah," said Alfred, through a mouthful of ice cream. "The Super Bowl."

"Is that what that was?"

Alfred nodded. "Yep."

"Huh. That's sort of a big deal, isn't it?"

"Little bit, yeah."

Matthew raised his spoon. "Well done you."

Alfred touched his spoon to Matthew's in a toast. "Cheers."

Matthew suddenly felt a little guilty. He had gone over the last week three times and the previous night's party twice, yet had neglected asking anything about Alfred's life. He started by asking about Alfred's boyfriend of less than a year. Matthew had only met the Englishman a few times, but he liked the man, and they got along well. "How's Arthur?"

"Oh, you know. Same as always. Cranky, cute. Annoyingly British." Alfred smiled dopily. "Perfect."

Matthew glared through narrowed eyes. "Some solidarity, please?"

Alfred had the good manners to look a little guilty. "Oh, right. Well, um… last week he tried to cook dinner, and made me clean up."

Matthew shook his head dramatically. "Men."

Alfred snorted. "Bastards."

And then, again, Matthew's brain was flooded with thoughts of Francis. Memories, and emotions, and that dull, sick ache of desperate grief. He stared blankly at the wall as it all fell on his shoulders, fell like a cold stone in his chest. "Really, I should have seen through him. I should have known what Francis was doing. It shouldn't have taken a week. It shouldn't have taken his cousins and his friends to hammer the truth into my thick head." Matthew remembered the humiliation of standing in that doorway as Francis' friends and family laughed, the horrifying realisation that he was just another of Francis' conquests. He swallowed heavily, his cheeks burning with the memory. "It felt like they were all laughing at me. Or feeling sorry for me. I don't know what's worse."

Alfred sighed quietly, sadly. "Oh, Matt."

Matthew laughed bitterly. He laughed to keep from crying. "I should have seen it before I got dumped."

Alfred spoke softly. "From what you've said, it sounds like you dumped him."

Well, that made Matthew stop and consider. "I suppose I did, really, didn't I." He tried, unsuccessfully, to gain some satisfaction from the fact. "Huh."

"Well done you," said Alfred, raising his spoon and grinning. Matthew stared at him, then breathed out heavily as he tapped Alfred's spoon with his own.

"Cheers, I suppose." Matthew sighed again, threw his spoon into his almost empty ice cream tub, and ran a hand wearily through his messy hair. He felt so lost and empty with these thoughts of Francis running through his head. "I really thought he liked me."

Alfred spoke decisively. "Of course he liked you."

Matthew scoffed. "If anything, he just liked my ass."

"Well, you do have a nice ass."

Matthew laughed, then tried again to glare. "Stop it. It's not funny."

Alfred just shrugged, smiling. "You know, maybe - and I'm just putting this out there, so don't get all pissed off - but maybe he really did like you, Matt. Maybe you were different to all those other guys he dated. You are pretty damn special, you know. Maybe he saw that."

Matthew felt a brief warmth in his chest, then nodded. "Thanks, Al. But I heard all I need to hear. Francis doesn't have relationships - he has sex. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's my fault for thinking it was something it wasn't."

Alfred shook his head. "I've told you this a hundred times, but you're too damn nice, man."

Matthew ignored that. "But you know the worst thing? The absolute worst thing about this whole stupid situation?" Alfred looked at him silently, and Matthew had to swallow heavily before he could continue. "It's too late. I'm already completely in love with him."

Matthew suddenly felt sick. Because it was true. He was in love with Francis: he was in love, and it was over. He was in love, and he would never see Francis again. Never smile teasingly at him through lowered lashes; never brush his hand against Francis' arm across a colourful patisserie counter. Never again hear that smooth, lilting voice call him 'darling,' never feel those warm, soft, insistent lips on his. Matthew dropped the ice cream onto the ground, leant his elbows on his knees, and put his head in his hands. It was over. 'It' had never even really happened. This whole week had been a game to Francis, one of thousands he'd played before – just a way to get Matthew into bed. But to Matthew, it had been the best week of his life.

Matthew felt Alfred's hand rest lightly on his shoulder, and silently thanked his usually oblivious brother for knowing exactly when his words weren't wanted. Matthew just squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, then slowly lay down on the couch. "I'm going to sleep now," he managed to choke out through a tight throat. "I want to sleep forever."

"Okay, Matt." Alfred gently patted his shoulder. "I'll be right here, okay?"

Matthew nodded into a cushion. "Thanks, Al."

After an entire miserable, sleepless night and a whole wretched day of bad food, worse television, and encompassing despair, Matthew fell asleep almost instantly. He did not hear Alfred turn off the TV, did not feel the blanket placed over him. And he did not notice the text messages his brother sent and received on the couch beside him.

How is your brother?

passed out from ice and coke overdose

?!

ice-cream, coca-cola

Oh. Poor bloke.

i know, hes gonna put on like ten pounds

Like you can talk.

you love it

Oh yes, Alfred, I love the way you're developing the incredible skill and highly enviable ability of balancing a beer can on your stomach.

yeah keep texting baby your getting me hot

I sincerely hope you are being as sarcastic as I was. I'll ask again. How is Matthew? Will he be all right?

dont know, hes real sad, i think he actually loved this francis guy

Francis? The man he was seeing?

yeah, french bastard, francis bonnefoy, baker or some shit

arthur?

arthur are you there?

helloooooo?

arthur if you dont text back im gonna call you

asdfgshjsfjkah

…huh? arthur are you alright?

Alfred, be a dear and go book me a hotel room.

what? why?

Because I am not going to crash on your brother's couch like some sort of unwashed Australian backpacker. I'll be up in the morning - I'll ring you when I arrive.

your so random arthur. hey what are you wearing?

arthur?

.

Constant, heavy, wind-swept rain pelted relentlessly at the front window, turning the usually warm and bright room dark and cold. The entire dull, grey afternoon seemed to seep into the patisserie, the unfamiliar atmosphere mirroring Francis' own state of misery. He leant against the front counter, chin in his hand, staring blankly at the far wall. This was the first rain in a week. The first rain since that startling, unexpected, glorious Monday morning when a shy, gorgeous accountant had sheltered in his store from the weather. The rain that day was beautiful: it had brought Matthew into Francis' life. The rain today was bitter, and lonely, and brought him nothing but despair.

Francis was still amazed at how much could change in seven days – it was hard to believe it had only been a week. One week in which Francis had changed more than he ever thought possible. One week in which he had gained hope and love and happiness and lost it all. Matthew was light and air and joy; without him, the colour had gone from the world. Now everything just seemed, well, dull. Dull and grey. Francis sighed and turned his eyes to the door, grateful for the lack of customers and silently begging them to stay away. He was not doing his best work today. Francis suddenly remembered that stupid family legend he had told Matthew by the river a few days earlier, and realised he'd had it all wrong. It wasn't love that destroyed talent. It was heartbreak.

Some part of him still blamed his friends. Francis had immediately stormed from the party on Saturday night, devastated and furious, determined never to speak to Gilbert or Antonio ever again. 'Never again' turned out to be little more than a day, however, since Francis had finally answered one of Gilbert's constant phone calls early that morning.

"Uh, hi, man."

"Hello."

"How ya going?"

"Fine."

"Uh, good. Good. Thanks for the personally monogrammed Gucci wallet. Sorry I didn't open it in front of Matthew. I know you only gave it to me to look impressive in front of him, and I'm probably gonna lose it or something, but it's still a pretty awesome gift."

"Yes. It is."

Silence. "Man, I'm really sorry."

Francis sighed. "I know, Gil. You were just doing what you always do. What we always do. It was just… incredibly unfortunate timing."

"If it makes you feel any better, Roderich's angry as all hell with me. That's probably got more to do with the lap dance though… Anyway. Francis, I… look, you're pretty awesome, you know? I'm sorry for ragging on ya. You do what you want to do, and, well, who you want to do, and that's awesome too. You're my best friend, and I just want you to be happy. So if you like Matthew… if you love him… then you'd damn well better go after him. He's one hell of a lucky guy."

"Oh Gil, I…"

"Don't you dare get sappy on me, man. This conversation never happened, get it? I know where you live!"

Seconds after Gilbert hung up, Francis finally answered a call from Antonio.

"Francis! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I wasn't thinking, I'm an idiot! You're my best friend in the world and please don't hate me and I don't know what I'd do if you never spoke to me again and…"

"Antonio, calm down. We're cool."

"Oh. Ohhhh! Oh, thank God, I… okay. Okay cool. I have to go now, Lovino has the day off and we're going shopping for golf clubs and ponies. You go after Matthew!"

Francis had spent the rest of the day contemplating his friend's advice. He'd rung Matthew's number exactly thirty-three times without any response. Maybe he should just turn up at Matthew's door – but what if Matthew ignored him? What if he wasn't even there? Francis' stomach turned unpleasantly. What if this was it? What if he never saw his sweet, funny, perfect Mathieu again, all because of a foolish misunderstanding? He could not bear the thought. Francis listened to the rain echoing his sadness against the window, then almost jumped when the little bell jingled over the front door. Francis looked up at the two men entering the patisserie, began a greeting, then stopped short. One of the men - the tall, well-built blond - looked incredibly similar to Matthew, though slightly less handsome of course. And the other…

"Merde!" Francis quickly ducked to avoid the bright pink cupcake that hurtled towards his head. It smashed into pieces against the wall behind him.

"You wine-swilling, snail-eating, bed-hopping BASTARD!"

Oh shit, merde, no, how, where, why, oh God WHY… "Arthur!" Francis cried out in a mixture of false delight and genuine horror from where he crouched behind the counter. "What a pleasant surprise! What hole did you crawl out from, my ros-bif friend?"

Arthur ignored the question. "Still playing the same tired games, Francis old boy?"

"...calling me old..." Francis muttered, raising his head slightly behind the counter. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Arthur's face was twisted in fury. He looked exactly as Francis remembered. "Never you mind that. This time, darling, you chose the wrong guy to play with. THIS time, YOU'RE the one who's fucked. With a ridged rolling pin. WITHOUT lube."

"But Arthur, darling, you always liked that." Francis ducked again. This time it was an entire lemon meringue pie that splattered spectacularly against the wall. "Oui, d'accord, sorry, okay." Francis stood slowly, his hands raised in surrender. "Arthur, my dear, did you really track me down simply to attack me with pastry? It seems a little excessive. We were together for three days. You dumped me via billboard. Using my money."

The man by Arthur's side looked suddenly terrified. "You what?"

Arthur just shouted. "You deserved it, frog! You slept with fifteen sailors! And FILMED it!"

Francis put his head in his hands. He really wished people would stop mentioning that particular episode of his life... Why was he even dealing with this right now? "Arthur, you told me it was over!"

The tall blond laughed. "Oh, he tells me that every day. You're not supposed to believe him." Then he suddenly stopped laughing, his eyes going wide. "Wait a minute - you know each other?"

Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Blimey, you're quick. Alfred, meet Francis – an ex-boyfriend, and a right bloody wanker."

Alfred raised his hands to his chest, his expression horrified. "Arthur, you slept with my brother's boyfriend? That's, like, incest!"

Francis let out a deep breath, understanding dawning. "Alfred? Matthew's brother?"

"Yeah, and MY boyfriend, and he can kick your arse because he's bigger than you and he plays football!" Arthur had the good sense to look slightly embarrassed after this remark. Alfred looked quite pleased.

Francis rolled his eyes. At least it was a relief to know that Arthur was here on Matthew's behalf, and not because of some three day affair almost ten years earlier. "Arthur, you sound like a fourteen year old girl. Congratulations on the win last week, Alfred."

Alfred grinned. "Thanks, dude. Wait, no. I'm angry at you! Matt's moving to Alaska and becoming a trucker because of you! I SHOULD kick your ass!"

"Alaska? Trucker?"

"Do it, Alfred! You hold him down, I'll punch!"

Francis raised his hands again, desperately seeking some sort of foothold in this mad, rapid, confusing turn of events. His little shit of a British ex was standing in his patisserie, along with Matthew's football star brother, and apparently they were lovers. This was too much to deal with on a Monday afternoon. Francis reached under the counter for a tray of pastries. "Honestly, my dears, are we in primary school here? Can we not sit and talk like adults? Here, have an éclair."

Alfred's eyes lit up as he hurried forward. "Ooh, éclair!"

Arthur threw an arm across Alfred's chest. "No!" He glared at Francis. "Keep those pervy things away from innocent American eyes. Alfred, have a cupcake."

Alfred cheerfully took the red velvet cupcake Arthur handed him. "Ooh, cupcake!"

"Now he's taken care of, you can explain yourself, frog." Arthur placed his hands on his hips. His styled sandy-blond hair, his narrowed green eyes, his perfectly-pressed tweed suit – what had Francis ever seen in this little queen?

Francis folded his arms and glared back across the counter. "I do not have to explain myself to you, Arthur. I've done nothing that deserves an explanation."

Arthur scoffed loudly. "Excuse me? Through your typical, philandering ways you've set in action a chain of events which have led to me standing here, talking to you - something I'm sure you remember I swore I would NEVER do again. You've caused Alfred and I several very early morning tearful phone calls from Matthew. You've made Alfred run out the front door at five a.m shouting something about his brother moving to Antarctica. But most of all, you've broken the heart of one of the nicest, kindest, most genuinely decent blokes I've ever met. And I think that deserves an explanation."

Francis dropped all attempts at bravado after the mention of tearful phone calls and broken hearts. He was completely distraught at the thought of Matthew torn up like that. He stared at the counter, at the tray of ridiculous éclairs, and felt like smashing them to the ground. "Is Matthew all right?" he asked softly.

Alfred looked up from his cupcake, his expression gravely stern. "No. No, he's not."

Francis felt sick. "He won't answer my calls."

Alfred shrugged. "He put his phone in the freezer."

"What am I supposed to do?" Francis ran his hands through his hair, let out a frustrated sigh, and tried not to kick the wall. He did not even care now who he was speaking to, barely noticed these two men in front of him; he thought only of his darling Matthew and how much he missed him and wanted him and… "He won't listen to me. He won't let me explain. He overheard all these things that mean nothing, he thinks I do not want to be with him, he thinks I was using him, and..." Francis paused to breathe, to calm the overwhelming anxiety in his chest. "And nothing could be further from the truth."

Both men regarded Francis suspiciously. Then Alfred spoke. "Okay. First of all, this cupcake is incredible."

Francis couldn't even affect his usual proud, polished routine. He just mumbled, "Thanks."

"Now," continued Alfred, drawing himself up to his full height, his apparent attempt at intimidation ruined by the red icing on his lips and fingers. "You're saying that you do like Matt? As more than a fling? As more than a trick?"

"As more than anything." Francis looked Alfred in the eye and spoke with every ounce of certainty he possessed. "I'm completely in love with him."

Alfred and Arthur glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. Arthur turned his still-suspicious eyes back on Francis. "You? In love?"

Francis shrugged. "What do you want me to say? How do you wish me to explain this? I've spent my entire life not even realising I was searching for something. I've made mistakes, and I've had fun, and I won't apologise for it. But in Matthew, I found everything I never knew I was looking for. He is the only person to ever make me feel like this. I love him, and I miss him, and I will do anything to convince him he is the most wonderfully unique person I have ever known."

Again, Alfred looked at Arthur. "What do you think?"

"I don't trust him," hissed Arthur. "I still think we should kick his arse."

Francis did not even know why he was explaining this to them. Maybe because it was easier than explaining it to himself. "It does not matter if you believe me." Francis closed his eyes and sighed. "None of this matters if I can't say it to Matthew. If only I could get him to listen…"

"All right, Frenchy, here's the deal." Alfred finished his cupcake, licked his fingers, then pointed at Francis. "I'll get Matt to talk to you, but I've got a couple of conditions."

Francis was caught between gasping in exhilaration and snorting in derision. How tiresome – this was like some sort of medieval courtship ritual. But if it meant he could somehow speak to Matthew… Francis gritted his teeth. "Do go on."

Alfred counted off on his fingers. "One – if you upset Matthew, I will kick your ass. Two – if you upset Arthur, oh boy, I will KICK your ASS. Three…" Alfred paused for a moment and licked his fingers again. "I'll take a carton of those cupcakes."

Francis rolled his eyes. "This talk of 'ass-kicking' is growing a little tedious, my dear. Regardless…" Francis nodded, the chance to see Matthew and explain everything too much to risk. Anticipation fired through his nerves and hope rose in his chest. "It is a deal, mon ami."

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter Eight: What Peter Carried

Chapter Nine: For the Greater Good Part One

-

Winter, 2017. Two weeks into escape. 

Peter was, in truth, hiding from his watchful roommates. Their care of him in his sickness left Peter feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to act around them now and a rise of youthful insecurity made it impossible to set out from the blue room. He’d been so stupid, it amazed him. He was muscles still protested any movement from their trek outside and a lingering haze steamed through his mind. Even with the sickness and their over attentive care, the walk was worth it just to feel the wind on his face; to hear time going forward around him and with him.

His eyes kept returning to the lake, now a few weeks away from being fully iced over, outside the window as he paced his room. He watched the gap between the shore and ice. Dark water streamed up, washing onto the surfaces despite the dropping temperatures. It would be near impossible to see the vulnerable underbelly of the lake in the coming weeks. The ice would cover everything protecting and concealing the life underneath in a timeless vacuum until spring came again.

Someone knocked and Rhodey stuck his head into the room.

“Hey Peter. We’re going to watch some movies if you want to join. Tony’s making his… special waffles, too.” 


Rhodey made a face at the growl from Peter’s stomach. The man knew no matter how much he protested the sugar contents of Tony’s breakfast, he would be forced, and secretly enjoyed, seconds. Peter, however, had no trouble with the excessive ingredients and ate as much as he could. Sometimes he and Tony raced to see who could eat quicker. 

Peter always won.

But the breakfast food would involve conversations and questions he didn’t feel like answering today.

“I dunno, Rhodey. I might stay in here.”

Rhodey being the more pragmatic of the two would normally give Peter his space for a while. He would leave with a disappointed smile and open invitation, and Peter found himself out of the room before an hour passed because of it. Today he changed his normal reaction. Rhodey came into the room and sat on the end of the bed gesturing for Peter to follow his lead. Rhodey folded his hands in his lap lacing his fingers together before they sat quietly. Both sets of eyes watching as the wind blew across the lake taking the snow along for a ride.

“I almost drowned once.” He said. Peter’s head snapped over and he gave a small chuckle under his breath while nodding out the window. “Right in that lake actually. I was young and stupid, going out when it was too warm and Tony, of course, would do anything a responsible adult would disapprove of so he was in. We had this friend who told us not to but we didn’t listen.”

“What happened?”

“Even though we didn’t listen to him, he still came with us.” He sighed and turned away from the lake to stare at Peter. “He saved me in the face of his fear. Tony calls me dramatic but he probably saved my life.” 



A shiver went down Peter’s spine and he avoided the man’s eyes to look back outside. He thought of all the times he went skating with May and Ben as a child. How fascinated he’d was of the ice. The tiny bubbles forming underneath the arctic structure, plastering to the horizontal wall and trying to escape up into the world only to disappear once the bubbles got passed the ice keeping them trapped. He remembered watching the sand settled on the bottom or be whipped into cloud of chaos with the slightest provocation. May had scolded him for pressing his face against the ice instead of skating around with them but in the end her and Ben had come over and joined him in his observations.

He wondered how old Rhodey was when this happened. Was it a childhood memory faded through time? Was he afraid of water now or the cold? Did he dream of the event? HE wanted to ask but instead he thought of the solitary figure in the story.

“What happened,” He said. “To your friend? What happened to him?”

Rhodey patted the bed covers and stood up. He walked across the room and only when his hand rested on the door handle did he answer without looking back at him or the blue room.

“He’s gone. You should come out. Tony’s been bugging me to show you some of the old horror classics.”



Peter chuckled but when he looked back Rhodey was gone. He lay back on the blue bedspread, rubbing his fingers against the fabric. He thought of the story and wondered if it was one of those lesson stories to get him to overcome a fear. Would he be the type of person to go out onto the ice if he was afraid?

He didn’t know.

Maybe for May he would, but for someone else. For someone he didn’t know as well, it was hard to tell. Peter mashed his palms to his cheeks and stared blankly out the window. What a selfish thought, but he’d done the saving strangers thing, the superhero gig for a time and what did he have to show for it? A broken life. That wasn’t even truthful. His life had stopped the moment May was gone. From there on he’d been living on someone else’s time; on borrowed time, waiting until they decided it was enough. Waiting to decide when his time was up. It was how he lived for so long he almost forgot what it was like before. The selflessness required to grow with people and some part of him hoped he hadn’t lost that.

Tony barged into the room without knocking. Peter shook his head to clear his morose thoughts away and stared at the handful of DVDs stacked under a bowl of popcorn in Tony’s hands. He could smell the warm butter and salt.

“I know it’s winter and we should get into the Christmas spirit but I say fuck the Christmas spirit. We’re about to get spooky and I won’t take no for an answer.” 



Peter found himself on the chair beside Rhodey and Tony, engrossed in the Horror of Dracula. He cringed back in fear and laughed at the dated graphics all the while wondering if he was doing it right. If this was what having friends felt like. If when they came for him he would fight to stay or go back to the way things were?

-

“Shut up, Tony and get into place. You know my mom is very particular about these things.” Tony grumbled under his breath but at the mention of Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, he threw the bright red sweater over his head. Peter stood at the corner of the living room, watching as Rhodey adjusted the camera tripod height. The sounds of argument lured him from his room. Rhodey looked up from the lens. He threw something and Peter caught the red item automatically. Itchy material pooled in his hand. He rubbed his fingers along the hem and tilted his head in question at the pitcher.

“You didn’t think mom wouldn’t want to see our mysterious new roommate?” Rhodey asked with a smile. “Tony don’t move yet. I’m trying to get the frame right.” He said without taking his eyes off Peter.

Peter fidgeted thinking about Rhodey said. For some reason he felt a strange tightness in his chest at the notion of Roberta hanging the picture with him in it on the refrigerator. Of Rhodey’s family passing the photo, maybe dogeared and faded with time, every day on their way to grab their orange juice. People looked at it with a smile and fondness.

He found himself shaking his head without realizing it but Rhodey and Tony were already walking over. They grabbed the sweater out of his hands and shoved the itchy monstrosity over his shoulders. Peter was sitting on the chair in front of the camera before he could blink. Maybe these two did have some kind of superpower to move so fast without him knowing.

Tony threw an arm over his shoulder. “Just grin and bear it. She’ll send us cookies to make up for the pain of staged photos.” Rhodey adjusted the camera down and pressed the button on the side of the camera before running to Peter’s empty side. He threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder and leaned in. Peter could feel heat surfacing on his cheeks and neck. He smiled at the camera with a nudge from Rhodey as Tony counted down.

For the first time in a long time the expression took no effort.  

Thank you!

Next Chapter Ten: For the Greater Good Part Two

[dropsiaczek-the-smartest-avenger]

Never let me down again

Part 2 of Beautiful liar, which you can find...here

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

Word count: 2035

Warnings: angst, swearing

(The gif is not mine, all credits to the original owner)

It was extremely annoying for me that there was no one I could call in the situation that occurred. I had to disappear from Tom’s house and life as quickly as I could and yet I couldn’t think of anyone who could temporarily take me in, until I figure out what to do with my life. I’ve moved to London just recently and I didn’t have many friends of my own, most of my friends were Tom’s friends as well. Sure, there were few people I befriended while working at the university, but I wouldn’t dare to ask them for such a favour, and I wouldn’t let any of them see me so broken. I thought of my childhood friend who lives in Cork but moving all my stuff there would be a pain in the ass, and I had to work, and my workplace was in London. Well…theoretically there was one more person, Judd Trump, a young snooker player, but was I heartless enough to use his soft spot for me? Yeah, I was, what other choice did I have? So right before boarding the plane I called him to come and pick me up from the airport. He tried to find out what was the matter, but I just ended the discussion that it wasn’t something to be handled over the phone.

When I landed in London I headed straight towards the exit from the gate. Judd was already there, waiting for me.

“Can you tell me what the hell happened?” He asked as I approached him.

“Lead me to the car.”

“(Y/n), talk to me!”

“We broke up, alright!” I snapped at him.

Meanwhile in Florence

As Tom was done shooting for the day, Ben and he decided to go for a drink and discuss what has happened few hours earlier.

“Alright, what made her so angry? Why did you lie to all of us? This is madness…” Benedict started the conversation.

“She wants to frame me in a child.”

“She wanted what?!” Ben exclaimed in shock. “Sorry, but I refuse to believe it. This doesn’t sound like her. She’s a smart girl with different priorities. PhD, remember? Have you ever spoke of having children? Besides, we were out for a drink with Liz, do you think she’d drink alcohol if she knew she was pregnant?”

“You know it was still fresh between us. It was too soon to speak of having children. Once in a conversation she said she’s not ready and the PhD will be her only child for some time, but that was it. And then, just before I left for here, I found a positive pregnancy test and an ultrasound photo.”

“Did you ask her about it? What did she justify herself?”

“I didn’t have time to talk with her, but I asked Taylor and she said that (y/n)’s attempt to set me up is the only explanation,” Tom replied.

“Okay…so you chose to discuss the case with your ex rather than your current girlfriend?”

“She wouldn’t tell me the truth anyway,” Tom tried to defend himself.

“I can’t believe you said it. You truly think so low of her? She’s pretty, smart, kind, practically everything a man could wish for and you know what? If you were capable of saying such thing, you’re not worthy of her,” Benedict growled and left, leaving stunned Tom at the table alone with his thoughts.

Back in London

“What now?” Judd asked when all my properties were packed into his car.

“Guess I’ll lock the door, leave the key in the mailbox and never come back here again.” I did as I said and got into the car. We were out throughout the drive. Judd finally understood that I was in no mood for talking. Such state of stagnation persisted for nearly a fortnight. I denied talking to anyone and work was the only place I’ve gone to, and only because I had to. And just as everything started to get better, and I started pulling my shit together, my sweet ex-boyfriend decided to step back into my life. First, he texted me asking to meet, and when I didn’t reply to any of his texts, he started calling, he came to my work, and at that point I couldn’t avoid him anymore. But I also knew that if I wanted to move on, I had to get things straight with him.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“That’s none of your business. Can we get this over with quickly and as painlessly as possible?” I asked emotionlessly.

“Let’s go and grab a coffee,” Tom suggested.

“No. Say what you have to say and leave me alone. And don't even bother to try and make me angry, it's not going to work. I work with students, remember? That made me immune to many things.”

“I would suggest a drink, but drinking alcohol is inadvisable for you.”

“What? And who’s to forbid me?” I asked furrowing my brows.

“Our baby. I know you wanted to keep it secret, but sorry, I know the truth.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What baby? What secret? The fuck?” I couldn’t believe what Tom just said. How on Earth did he get an idea of me being pregnant? I’m on contraceptive pills for years, and at that time I sure wasn’t ready to have a child. I wanted to finish my doctorate first. Besides, our relationship was way too new to start to reproduce. Maybe at some point, but that definitely wasn’t the time.

“I found the test and the ultrasound image in your nightstand, and I asked Taylor about it, and…”

“Ok, wait!” I interrupted him in mid-sentence. “So, you have found something and instead of asking me about it, you decided to discuss it with your ex?” Tom nodded in response. “And you believed her uncritically?” He nodded again. I sighed heavily. This whole wicked thing was way too much for me to handle and it didn’t seem to be over yet. “Okay, so it leads us up to now. What exactly do you want from me now? Don’t you think it’s a little too late?” I asked.

“I wanted to tell you I thought everything through, and I want to take care of you and the baby, but since there’s no baby we could try and fix our relationship. I thought Taylor wants the best for me and yet she was only manipulating me. And whose are these things?”

Tom’s words upset me so hard that I had to take few deep breaths to calm down. “They’re your sister’s, she wanted to surprise you all on Christmas. And I don’t need your mercy now, there’s nothing to fix between us. If you value Taylor higher than me, we have nothing to talk about.”

I started to leave but Tom grabbed my hand.

“Please, let me make it up to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you and what you said back there, in Florence left me broken. I realized how much you mean to me and I can’t live without you. Please, give me one more chance, I promise I won’t waste it,” Tom pleaded with puppy eyes. Damn, how I loved those blue eyes, they made my heart melt, but I couldn’t show him my weakness.

“I have to think it over. I need time, Thomas,” I said calmly.

“I’ll wait for you, you’re worth it.”

“Sorry, I have to go now.”

“Would you like me to drive you wherever you live now?” Tom offered.

“Thanks, I’ll walk.”

“Okay, so just one last thing – my play is premiering next week, I’d be delighted if you came, I’ll put you on the guest list.”

“I can’t promise you anything. Goodbye.”

“Bye, (y/n).”

The day of the premiere came and I was laying on the couch, with greasy hair and absolutely no make-up, wearing loose sweatpants and holey T-shirt still not sure what I should do.

“I think you should go,” Judd said from the kitchen.

“Really? Of all people you were the least expected to give me such advice,” I replied.

“I know, but I see you every day, and I see that the breakup left you in a complete mess. You’re quiet and sad, and I can’t look at it anymore. You must admit to yourself that you can’t live without him. And his lies weren’t that bad after all. He had no bad intentions and his actions were a result of shock. Everybody makes mistakes. I think you should forgive him this one.”

“And what if he finds me weak and will do that again, knowing that he will get another chance?” I asked, still not entirely convinced.

“If he lets you down again there will be no more chances.”

“Alright,” I agreed, “But if it doesn’t work out, you’ll be the one to blame for convincing me.”

“Agreed,” Judd said smiling, “Now go and pull yourself together, you look like crap.”

I jumped from the couch and headed to the bathroom. I was short on time and my beauty is quite time consuming, so I had to hurry. I washed my hair first, so as they were drying, I could apply some make-up. Luckily God blessed me with straight hair, so they looked well even when they dried on their own. At the end I dressed myself in a knee-long, long-sleeved black dress.

“What do you think?” I asked, presenting myself to Judd.

“Perfect. Now, let me drive you to the place before I change my mind and will keep you for myself.”

“Ah, miss (y/n)!” A man from staff approached me. “Your presence was well wished for but rather unexpected.”

“Yet here I am!” I exclaimed, presenting myself with a smile.

“Mister Hiddleston will be delighted to see you. Now, let me show you your seat.”

I was seated in the first balcony and from my spot I had a great view on the stage. Yet I couldn’t concentrate on the play. My thoughts were occupied by the shitty situation I got stuck in. For the major part of my life I consider myself an expert in avoiding relationships and when I met Tom, everything has changed, I started to care. And that was the reason why I decided to fight for our relationship.

“He jests at scars that never felt a wound. / But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? / It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. / Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, / Who is already sick and pale with grief, / That thou her maid art far more fair than she…” I heard Tom reciting from downstairs when everyone else left the hall.

“Whoa, don’t get too carried away,” I said leaning over the edge of the balcony, “Do I have to remind you that Romeo and Juliet didn’t have a happy ending? I thought you know Shakespeare well. Is this what you want for us?”

“Come down, please,” Tom pleaded. I was more than happy to obey, yet I tried to remain calm and keep a serious expression. I quickly ran down the stairs and in a blink of an eye I was standing before the man I loved.

“I don’t want us to be like Romeo and Juliet. I want to grow old by your side, will you allow that?” Tom confessed.

“I think I will,” I replied before placing a light kiss to his lips.

“Come home, I can’t stand how empty it got since you left.”

I shook my head slowly. “Not yet, we still have much to work on. But maybe at some point, when everything comes back to normal, I will move in with you again.”

“I promise I’ll never let you down again and I will prove it to you every day, from this day until my last day,” Tom promised. A soft smile crept on my lips and Tom could see my eyes gleaming again. “So where do we start?”

“Shave! And maybe later I will even let you ask me out for a coffee,” I said feeling my smile grow wider.

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