#mikey must have some long ass legs to kick that high

[queenofcringe]

They put their whole mikussys into this

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Heart Shaped Bed

Mob Boss! Mikey x fem reader

Summery: It’s Halloween and you’re just looking for some fun of the dangerous variety. Enter: Michelangelo. A psychotic mob boss from hell who is in love with your best friend. Can you win him over and at what cost?

Warnings: NSFW, violence, alcohol mentions, car accident

((A/N: I have trouble writing crazy character despite being labelled as crazy myself, Mikey is tricky to write for in this AU so just bear with me))

October 31st, the night where all the ghouls and ghosts come out to play and superstition is at it’s highest since it’s rumoured that the veil between our world and the next is at it’s thinnest. You pull your skirt down your leg a little and take another sip of your free beer, one of the only perks of having a best friend who works at a bar. Paddy’s is always packed at this time of year, everyone is in costumes and drunk out of their minds; you are no different. You’re dressed as a sexy school girl because originality was never your forte and you wanted to show off your boobs a little, so what? You have the outfit down, complete even with bows on the thigh high socks and you look damn good.

It’s too loud to have a decent conversation with “Monster mash” blaring over the small speakers on the bar so you sit and give Sophie (Peach, as you know her) a forlorn look as if to say “more beer, please” and she complies. Peach looks radiant as she pulls the tap to refill your glass. Her light peach hair trailing down over her shoulders and her uniform or black slacks and a white t shirt with dark green hem hugging all of her curves. She was difficult to compete with but she was still so modest and complimentary of you it was hard to hold it against her. You knew half the regulars only came her to watch her, it didn’t stop you going after them though.

Looking around the room you watch and drunk idiots spill their drinks and desperately try to find someone to take home despite looking a mess, covered in fake blood or with vampire fangs. It was really something to watch. A guy in a ladybug costume fawns over a women dressed as Moticia Adams only to get the cold shoulder. You chuckle to yourself. Sat in the far corner of the room, at their usual table, sat the Turtle boys, a notorious gang in upside New York. They weren’t in costume, too good for it you assumed, and they didn’t look happy. You were aware, through Peach, that they made unsavoury deals in the back office of the bar and maybe tonight something went awry.

“Hey, babes!” you call over to Peach who is passing the incredible hulk a bud light “What happened over there?” you say gesturing subtly to the four well suited turtles.

“Not sure, I heard some yelling from the back room and then they came out. Something to do with that serial killer I think” She replies.

So a serial killing is hurting business. Huh. That explains their looking like someone died, someone has... You couldn’t keep your eyes from flitting towards them, sitting there so stoic and commanding while nursing a few now almost gone whiskys.

“Hey” you call over again. Peach turns and gives you a smile to let you know she’s listening “Isn’t that one the guy who-”

“- who choked out Steve for grabbing my ass? Yeah, that’s the one” she finishes your sentence for you.

You smile to yourself, Steve definitely deserved it. Pervert. You knew the turtle’s name but, like all residents of the bar, were reluctant to use it lest they hear you. But, tonight was a night to be brave and take chances, and you’d always wanted to bed one of them. Think of the status that gives you, sleeping with one of the most violent, deplorable men in the state. You know Mikey has a thing for Peach, on other nights his eyes don’t leave her, not that she notices; a good girl like her doesn’t have time for those “downworlders” as she calls them.

“Barkeep! I’ll take 4 martinis if you don’t mind. It’s time to take my shot” you announce to Peach who gives you a weary smile as she makes your drinks and places them on a tray in front of you.

You adjust your green and navy blue pleated skirt, hiking it further up so that the bottom of your ass cheeks would be on view and head over to the turtles, tray in hand.

You set down the drinks in front of them and say, with a smile:

“We have a special offer on tonight, boys. Buy four drinks and get me for free”

They stare at you completely unamused, but their looks weren’t going to discourage you now.

“Oh come on” you begin “That line would have killed two tables over”

Michelangelo takes a finger and runs it around the rim of his glass a few times before tipping it over, the contents of the glass spilling all over the table and onto your skirt. You jump back.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you cry out

“Act like a slut, get treated like a slut” he states.

With your tail between your legs, you huff and walk away. They didn’t have to be such assholes about it, and it kind of stung that you basically offered up your pussy on a plate and they sneered at you.

Back at the bar Peach raises her eyebrows as you take a few napkins and try and dry off your skirt.

“So, how’d it go?” she inquires

“About as well as you can expect from four mutant, snobby, rich dickheads”you reply. Peach leans over the bar and gives you a small hug and kiss on the cheek as her condolences.

Suddenly you feel eyes on you and turn around to see Michelangelo staring at you, mouth slightly agape and a strange look in his eyes. You would have called it regret, if you thought he was capable of feeling that. You ignore it and turn back to your drink.

You sense a presence behind you and turn once more to find him standing next to you looking awfully sheepish.

“Look” he begins “I’m...I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were a friend of- is there some way I can make it up to you? Is what I’m trying to say”

“Do you have a fresh size 3 shirt in that booth with you?” your snarky side is coming out

He laughs it off 

“No, but can I buy you a drink or” He looks you up and down “Interest you in any extra curricular activities?” His smile is so bright and charming, you feel yourself almost forgiving him for what had just occurred. And he was devilishly good looking, which helped a lot.

You trace your fingers lightly up his arm until they reach his shoulder.

“You wanna get out of here?”

He smirks, looks down and then back up at you

“Sure”

_____

Outside of the bar is freezing, especially in the tiny outfit you’re wearing and you shiver in the cold October air. Mikey shrugs off his blazer and puts it over your shoulders but you get the impression he’s doing this out of obligation rather than affection. It’s something about his movements, they feel more...Awkward and unsteady than fluid and confident. You know this isn’t his first time taking a girl home from Paddy’s, so you don’t fully understand what his deal it.

You arrive at his car, and despite knowing nothing about vehicles you can recognise that he drives a black Bentley and it must have cost him a fortune, not that he didn’t have the money. He could buy it 100 times over and still have more cash than half the people in New York.

He opens the passenger side door for you and you get in.

“So, my place or yours?” you ask

“Motel” he says plainly.

Curiouser and curiouser... You try and make a list of everything you know about him. He won’t take you home, he’s hot then cold and he has a thing for Peach. It clicks in your head. He’s using you to get closer to her. You almost smile, this was such a typical thing to happen to you, of course he only wants you for your relationship to her. It doesn’t matter either way, you’ll warm him up for her.

He drives fast and it’s not long before your on a highway and definitely breaking the speed limit.

You had been making casual conversation, the drive was always the worst part of a hook up, now you have to actually talk to them instead of make out. 

“I feel like we should have taken an uber” you say

He doesn’t turn to look at you or speak

“Because that way I could be touching you right now” You place a hand on his thigh and he still gives you no response. “Anndd you’re not listening. Great.”

He takes his eyes off the road and turns to you

“You’re the oldest in your family, you work as a manager in a clothing store but can’t fucking stand it there and you feel like we should have gotten an uber so you could be touching me right now. Did I get that right?”

You stare back at him slightly aghast and he continues to watch you. Suddenly you realise he hasn’t looked at the road this entire time and the car in front of you is slowing down

“Watch out!” you scream and the car swerves before he gains control again and brakes, the car rocking side to side a little from the sudden movements. You’re breathless and you turn to look at Mikey who simply bursts out laughing while he continues to drive, his eyes wide as full moons. He’s sick you think to yourself. Lucky you like that in a man, and there’s nothing like a near death experience to get the blood pumping.

You continue the car ride for a while in silence apart from the odd laugh from him who still seems amused that you nearly crashed.

He pulls off the side of the road into some shitty looking motel. A huge florescent sign that reads “Blue Moon Motel” sparks a little which doesn’t offer you any comfort. This place was a dump, but if it had a bed it would do.

________

Inside the room you shake off the blazer he gave you onto the chair in the corner of the room, by the end of the bed. The interior was cute, all shades of blue and white and the bed sheets has little lace style trimmings.which was delicate and sweet.

You fling yourself onto the bed, kicking off your shoes and pull out your phone, you decide you need music for this momentous occasion. You settle on “Heart Shaped Bed” by Nicole Dollanganger and press play. It’s creepy enough to be fitting for Halloween but slow enough to be romantic. The opening notes of the piano begin to stream from your phone which you place on the nightstand.

*lay me down, on a heart shaped bed Pretend it’s out wedding, pretend we just met*

“So” you spread your legs a little and look at Mikey “How do you want me?”

He gives you a wicked smile and then he’s upon you, biting and sucking at the delicate flesh of your neck with vigour. Clearly he couldn’t wait any longer you thought to yourself.

*Pretend we're in one of those movies They rent in the back of every seedy place We pass on the interstate*

You angle your head to kiss his mouth but he pulls away, making it clear that this is not a romantic occasion, this is just fucking and he doesn’t want you in that way. It doesn’t bother you, it just heightens the whole “big bad mob boss” fantasy although you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little disappointed by it.

he tears your blouse open revealing your chest and begins his work sucking and biting at your nipples and the tender skin of your breasts, you look down and can already see pinky purple bruises forming, a treasure map of where his mouth had been.

You moan a little at his touch but he continues his work down your stomach and towards your most sensitive area. Lifting up your skirt he places a kiss on you clothes mound before peeling off your underwear. You raise your hips slightly to help his get them off with ease and then he returns back down, licking between your folds until his tongue passes over your clit and causes you to moan hard.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

“You want this?” he says from between your thighs, you can feel his hot breath against your skin, a sensation that is more than pleasant. 

“Yes, god yes” you squirm

“No.You wanna act like a slut, you get fucked like a slut” he returns.

Before you have time to respond her grabs you by the ankle and flips you over onto your stomach before pulling your hips up so that you’re on your knees with your shoulders and face still down on the bed. You hear him undo his flies and think for a moment as he lines up with your entrance

“wait, don’t we need protectio-” before you can finish he’s inside you and thrusting hard and deep, he gives you no time to adjust to his size and he is very sizeable... You cry out in the mixture of pain and pleasure that he’s giving you. As well as the music, the room fills with the obscene sounds of his flesh pounding against yours and the wet noises your pussy makes as he pushes in and out of you.

“you think sluts use protection?” he mocks

He feels to good for you to want him to pull out now, so you go with it, but raise yourself onto your elbows. His hands are on your hips but he trails one down your back to grab at your ponytail and pull your head back.

*So get the room with the heart shaped bed Make something gross feel romantic*

Your walls tighten around him and that elicits a grunt from him as he begins to pound harder into you, smacking your ass hard as he does. He pulls out and flips you over back onto your back and holds your legs up to your chin, his strong arm keeps them in place as he realigns himself with your entrance and pushes back in. This new position allows him to get deeper which you think is what he was hoping for.

*Make me so no one will ever want me again*

Now he has a full view of your face, eyes squeezed closed and face contorted in pleasure

“Open your eyes” he demands “Look at me when I’m fucking you”

He’s still fully clothed which you’re a little unhappy about, so you open your eyes and begin to undo his shirt. Your fingers tremble slightly partially from the force at which he’s fucking you, partially do to the alcohol you had that night.

*'Cause when I sleep with faith, I only Find a corpse in my arms on awakening*

You slide his shirt over his shoulders and throw it across the room, raising your head a little you bite into his now exposed shoulder to stifle your moans. You don’t understand how he can bring you so close to the brink this soon, but his pace is unyielding and unwavering. He fucks you like he’s punishing you.

He grabs you by the chin and squeezes 

“Open your mouth!”

you do as you’re told and he purses his lips, pauses and then spits down your throat, pushing at your chin to close your mouth and encouraging you to swallow. He’s disgusting but being treated this way only turns you on more, much to your shame, you can feel your cheeks flush with blood as he smiles down at you one he hears that familiar *gulp* sound.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He pulls out once more and gets of the bed which confuses you for a second, until he pulls you up by the hair and leads you to the wall. He spins you around and so you’re facing it and pushes your shoulders forwards and pulls your hips back so he has easier access to your pussy. He plunges his cock back inside of you and you rest your face against the wall as you take him in all the way. You think you might start seeing stars if he continues like this. Never mind him being a probable killer, they should lock him up for murdering your pussy.

One of his hands rakes through your hair and pulls back your head while the other reaches around to your face and pinches your nose shut while covering your mouth. You can’t breath at all and begin to panic slightly but also whine into his hand because of how good he feels inside you.

you feel that tightness in the pit of your stomach and know that you’re close, you try and moan into his hand, shaking your head a little from side to side to try and get him off your face but it’t to no avail. So you use your hands but he simply lets go of your hair and pins your arms behind your back. You still can’t breath and now you’re so close to cumming and black dots and filtering in and out of your vision, you think you might be close to passing out.

Finally that knot in your stomach releases and your orgasm washing over you, you practically scream into his hand before he lets go and you fall to the floor, gasping for air.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He hasn’t cum yet so he stands over you, stroking his dick, smirking at what he did to you. If it weren’t for the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d be furious and give him a peace of your mind but you were still desperately trying to catch your breath.

Mikey throws his head back before cumming on you, some of the milky fluid getting in your hair and you lift your hand up to shield your face from it. Was this to insult you? Or was it still part of the whole ‘you’re a slut’ role play thing because you couldn’t tell anymore.

He tucks himself back into his finely tailored trousers and walks across the room to put on his shirt and gather his blazer from the chair you threw it on earlier. He pulls a small rectangular card out of his pocket and throws it on the nightstand next to your phone which started playing the next song a while ago.

“You can spend the night here, if you want. Anything you get from the minibar will be charged to my card so don’t worry about it” He looks down at you, still on the floor, bright red in the face and still breathing rather heavily “G’night, sweetheart” he winks at you before heading to the door and closing it behind him.

You pull yourself up to your feet and head over to your phone, opening it and typing out a message to Peach.

[Hey girly, you won’t believe the night I just fucking had] the text reads.

You flop down on the bed and await her response. A shower could wait for 5 minutes while she replies.

Fin

[tirednotflirting]

and we'd both stay out until the morning light

realizing i never posted this to tumblr. oops. ~vaguely~ inspired by 1973 by james blunt, an absolutely bitchin song i must say. and this piece was for miss helen aka @calumcest‘s bday approx one week and change ago. i went off a lil about my love and appreciation for her and our friendship in the ao3 a/n but the gist of it all is that helen is so so full of love and light and beautiful beautiful words and i’m so stupid thankful that this mess of a world brought us together. helen, if u see this, i love you to absolute pieces and i hope u are well x

you can find this here on ao3 if you wanna read there

Michael doesn’t consider himself to be great at much. He’s young, and making mistakes and having to try again is still his standard. He kind of likes that, though. He likes that his practicality in most things is seen as maturity and not a necessary default setting. He likes how his mom is proud when he learns how to cook a new vegetable or how to get a stain out of something. But he’s also comforted by the idea that it’s not irresponsible (or too much so, at least) when he throws caution to the wind and goes on some wild adventure with his friends or on his own. That it’s okay if he doesn’t know the word for something or has to google how to fill out a form because he’s still learning. Michael likes observing, learning about how he should be moving about the world.

That evening, something in the air feels electric. What exactly it is, Michael isn’t really sure, but it has him buzzing with anticipation for something. There’s a humming in the air around his apartment weaving around him like a ribbon but it’s moving too fast for him to latch onto. But for some reason, he doesn’t find it unsettling. He’s finishing up the dishes from dinner when the soft music playing from the speaker in his kitchen is interrupted with his ringtone.

He wipes his wet hands off before reaching into his back pocket. The screen shows a familiar picture, one always guaranteed to bring a smile to his face. He swipes his thumb across the glass and hits the speaker button. “Hi, Calum.”

“Come out with me tonight.”

His smile widens as he sets the phone on the island behind him so he can return to his drying rack. “Are we celebrating something?”

“Just being young and alive and in this gorgeous place and in love.” He can hear a dreamy tone to Calum’s words, evidence that he’s already begun a solo pregame.

“All about the dramatics tonight, are we?”

Calum huffs in a mock frustration. “We can’t let this place eat us alive, Mikey. Come out and dance with me.”

Michael sighs with a smile still pulling at his lips. He can practically hear the twinkle in Calum’s eyes that he tends to get when batting his eyes at Michael as he begs him to live a little. He thinks of the lunch he’s meant to attend with his advisor the following afternoon, of the novel and glass of wine sitting on his coffee table that he had set out for his quiet Saturday night in. But then he hears a quiet please, babe? across the line and rolls his eyes affectionately while placing the measuring cups back into their drawer. 

Maybe he’s meant to go on an adventure tonight. To observe, to see something new.

“I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”

*

Michael has never really liked clubs. He’s always found the environment to be one that bounces his brain between a place of numbness and overstimulation like his mind is a ping-pong ball. The duality of cocktails filled to the brim with liquor but also sugar only heightens the feeling. He prefers bright lights and sounds in a more controlled environment, like his computer screen or a movie theatre.

But Michael really likes Calum. And Calum likes clubs. So it’s fairly often that he finds himself with some brightly-colored drink in one hand and Calum grasping his other as he gets dragged through one of the night clubs near Calum’s new place.

The electric feeling in the air shifts with Michael’s change in setting. As Calum pulls him across the dance floor toward the bar for another drink, he senses it again, but in a different tone than he had felt in his apartment. Now it’s the beams of light passing between each of the bright, flashing bulbs high above their heads. It’s the energy swerving between the chattering, glittery people at the bar and the bass pumping below his feet. It’s Calum’s breathy laugh in his ear and the touch of his lips against Michael’s neck as he asks him if he wants something new to hold in his free hand.

Calum jumps up onto a stool at the bar as they wait for their next round and he pulls Michael to stand between his legs, his arms thrown lazily around his neck as he babbles through some story about some band that came into the studio that day. Michael loves watching Calum tell a story, his expressions adding their own layer of humor to the tale as Michael catches the rolling or widening of his eyes between flashes of colored light. Soon enough a couple more glasses are placed in front of them and Calum is reaching into his pocket for a few bills to pass back to the bartender before sliding down to the floor and pulling Michael back into the crowd.

Neither of them can dance to save their lives but that never stops Calum. He bounces around as Michael laughs and copies the movement. The liquid in their cups threatens to slosh to the floor or onto their shirts with each incredibly ungraceful swing of their hips.

“How is it,” Calum says between pants into Michael’s ear while wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close, “that we’re out nearly every weekend and we still look like dads trying to dance every time we get out here?”

Michael shakes his head, the liquor in his cup starting to take its effects as he giggles against Calum’s cheek. “We’re musicians. One day when we make it big we’ll be too busy playing our instruments on stage to dance around. It would be a waste of time to learn to move any different than this.”

Calum’s smile shines bright through a laugh as he spins them around following Michael’s comment. “God, what are we going to do when our friends start getting married? We’ll be a disaster.” He pauses to take a sip of the concoction he’s ordered most recently. “Luke and Ashton are probably gonna threaten to kick us out if we move from our seats at their reception some day.”

“That’s how we’ll convince Ashton’s cheap ass to get the open bar. We’re far more agreeable when drunk.”

“Cheers to that.” Calum mockingly raises his cup and knocks it against Michael’s. 

The song changes then, the volume of the crowd rising with the song as the familiarity hits everyone’s ears and minds. Calum’s face bursts into a grin and his arms tighten around Michael’s neck to pull him closer to his chest. “Mm, love this song.” Calum pauses to sing along to the chorus. “Think I love you also.”

Michael blinks his eyes open, not having realized that they were closed. He watches light bounce around them and a drunken blush paint across Calum’s cheeks and nose. He’s had too much to drink to think too hard about it but really he’s never not questioning how he got so lucky. He lets his lips press against Calum’s nose, the rosiness in his own cheeks surely spreading when he catches Calum’s giggle through the music. “Love you too, Cal.”

They dance and sing for what feels like both hours and seconds. The mix of light and sound and those damn cocktails Calum keeps buying make Michael feel light like the confetti that starts flying around the room at some point in the night. He lost track of the number of nights they’ve had like this a long time ago, the center of glittering, happy chaos being a place Calum loves to frequent. He’d follow Calum anywhere, including to a mindless and seemingly pointless celebration like tonight. Michael knows he’ll go anywhere so long as he gets to keep watching the way Calum’s eyes and smile sparkle when even the faintest light hits his face. 

He’s watching it then, practically being blinded by it all, he thinks, when Calum catches Michael’s hand and pulls him back in for another dance.

*

They end up at the beach.

Their phones died ages ago but as the sun just barely begins to peek out from the ocean horizon, Michael figures it’s around 6am. They’re both still giggling and blushing at each other like mad as they strip off their socks and shoes and stumble toward the ocean. Michael isn’t even sure what he’s drunk off of anymore but whether it's Calum or the cocktails, he doesn’t really seem to care. 

Calum gasps at the temperature of the water as they let the little waves crash against their ankles, and he shuffles closer to Michael. He leans into Michael’s shoulder, lips pressing gently against his neck as Michael wraps an arm around his waist. 

The morning sunlight is just barely beginning to ripple over the dark water as they stand in silence, their breaths just barely audible over the waves. Normally seeing the ocean without the sun high up in the sky scares the hell out of Michael; hell, the ocean in general usually frightens him. It’s so unknown, and Michael doesn’t like being so close to something so vast and mysterious. It’s why he can’t think about space too hard most of the time either. He feels safe, though, and secure, standing there with Calum. He’s always wondering if it’s too early to think that way about the boy standing pressed against his side.

Eventually Calum lifts his head and grabs Michael’s hand, weaving their fingers together as he walks them back from the water just a bit before planting himself in the sand. “We’re watching the sunrise from here,” Calum explains to Michael’s confused eyes. Michael nods his understanding and drops down beside him.

“This city scares the hell out of me sometimes,” Calum says with a sigh, his fingers still dancing with Michael’s. “Like it always feels like I’m doing too much and not enough all at the same time. And then I get so stuck on figuring that out that I do nothing. There’s so many creatives here that the air feels like it’s filled with thoughts and ideas and dreams all the time. It’s so damn loud, you know?”

Michael nods, though the way Calum speaks he can’t really tell if he’s actually speaking to him or not. He considers asking but then Calum starts up speaking again, his crinkling eyes still facing out toward the water. 

“But then I come here and it’s like the tide kind of pulls all of that away. This is the only place where LA gets quiet, I think. It’s why I like to come out here.” 

Michael sticks his legs out in front of him and digs his bare feet into the sand as he ponders how to respond to Calum. “I get what you mean,” he starts as he drops his free hand against the cool sand and draws swirls with his finger. “I think this is the first time I haven’t been surrounded by people in a while.”

Calum’s head drops to Michael’s shoulder again and turns away from the water as he nestles his face into his neck. “Mali suggested coming out here after I’d had a bad day at the studio and you and the guys were all busy or something. Said it was her favorite place to gather up her own thoughts when she was trying out living here.”

As he drops Calum’s hand to let his hand reach up to tangle with the dark curls at the back of his neck, Michael lets the importance of this place, of Calum bringing him here settle over them. There are very few things that Calum keeps to himself, this spot apparently having been one until that morning. “Thank you for sharing this place with me. It’s a beautiful spot.”

He feels Calum shake his head just a little, his arm moving to wrap around Michael’s waist as his fingers play with the hem of his shirt. “Of course. I wanna share everything with you.”

The electric buzz Michael has felt around him the whole night settles with him and Calum out on the beach. Now it skips across the gentle waves that grow bluer with each passing minute as the sun rises. It blinks with the light from the street lamps back at the road as they go back and forth on whether or not it is time for them to say their daily goodbye as dawn turns to morning. Its final act, Michael senses, is the shock he gets as Calum straightens up and gently lifts his hand to the back of Michael's neck, causing him to turn as brown eyes meet green for just the briefest moment before their eyes flutter shut while their lips meet. 

*

“And that’s when I knew that he was my soulmate, ya know?” Michael says, his smile widening as he watches Calum’s eyes sparkle, tears threatening to fall from his dark lashes. “Because we should have been falling over ourselves with exhaustion at that point but I had never felt so awake in my life. I never wanted to sleep again because I never wanted to stop looking at him.”

A single tear does fall, racing down Calum’s cheek, and Michael lifts his hand from Calum’s grasp to gently wipe it away. “Anyway,” he laughs with a sniffle, his eyes pulling from Calum’s to face the room filled with their family and friends. “Thank you all for putting up with my nostalgia and thank you for coming to help us celebrate today. Enjoy the reception.”

The music picks up once people finish their brief clapping and Michael sits down again while he watches people around the room begin to rise and walk in the direction of the cakes and the bar. His eyes follow Luke and Ashton as they wander in the direction of Calum’s parents and sister, presumably to say hello again. Ashton’s eyes briefly meet his own and Michael laughs quietly as he watches Ashton’s left eye drop into a wink. They share the look for only a moment because then Luke is dragging him along and a hand dropping to Michael’s thigh pulls him back.

“I really liked that night,” Calum mumbles against Michael’s neck, his lips pressing just below his ear. “Liked hearing you tell the story of it even more.” 

Michael can’t help his laughter as a smile pulls at his cheeks. “Listen, there are very few stories of nights out that I can tell in front of our parents. Had to go digging through my journals to really settle on one.”

“You were journaling about me already back in the day? That’s so sweet.”

“Back in the day?” Michael questions as he sits up to meet his husband’s (the thought of the word alone bringing butterflies swarming into his stomach) eyes. “That was like four years ago, Cal. We’re too young for anything to be ‘back in the day’ yet.”

Calum’s face softens at his words, his hand lifting from Michael’s lap to cup his cheek, his thumb running across his cheekbone. “I can’t wait to grow old with you.”

He lets out a sigh while Michael blushes at him in response to the declaration. Calum leans forward to brush their lips together before rising, his empty glass in hand in need of a refill. Michael watches him wander through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging smiles and kind words with every guest he passes while approaching the bar. None of it feels real yet, Michael thinks. Though it’s been less than two hours since they said I do so he figures he’s allowed a little longer to just be in awe of the fact that he’s got someone to spend the rest of forever traipsing through life with and that that someone is Calum.

And Michael still doesn’t consider himself to be great at much. He’s still young and can’t hold his liquor and can only really cook maybe three vegetables. But Michael is great at loving Calum and being loved by Calum. And maybe, for now, that’s enough. Michael finds himself thinking on that as he takes another sip from his own glass and gazes out to where Calum stands speaking to a friend and their partner. His cheeks warm as the three of them turn to look at him, a fond look resting against Calum’s face as their eyes meet. The ring on his left hand glitters in the light as he lifts it to gesture for Michael to join him.

Yeah, this is definitely enough.

*

[real-fanta-sea]

MICHAEL APPRECIATION WEEK Day 7: Free choice

For this day, I have prepared something special - this fic was laying around in my drafts for almost a year and I’m so happy to finish and publish it!

The name is The leap of faith and happens after Michael falls to his dead during ending B. It is rather heavy and lacks happy ending + there is a mention of attempted suicide and canon death. It is not graphic, but some of you might prefer not to read about it and I think it’s fair to warn you. Oh, and the pairing mentioned is Trikey. For those of you who prefer AO3, click here to get redirected to the work. For the rest of you guys, just click on “keep reading”. Hope you’ll like it! 😊

The thunder rumbles through the air, vibrating everything in a deep and untamed matter.

“Michael! Let’s just-” 

Michael looks up, trying his best to look tough while somewhere deep inside, he is scared shitless as the same thunder echoes through him. He’s holding desperately, palms sweaty, onto his life. Franklin, holding his forearm as hard as he can, let his mouth gape open in a shock. Finally, a true, fucking human emotion.

A few heavy, ice-cold raindrops dampen Michael’s forehead. This all feels too familiar, he thinks to himself. This time, though, he won’t wake up with a jerk, sweat pearling up on his back. This time, there won’t be anything else than a void, sucking him in. He won’t stare back at steel grey sky as it dissolves into his perfect white bedroom ceiling. Not this time.

Another lightning illuminates his final scenery. Michael peers at depth down below his feet and then back up to a familiar face. Franklin fights with himself - he can see it in his sharp sculpted face. The rain falls heavily now and drenches his cheeks, and the moist reflects red and white signal light high above their heads. How the hell did he end up this way? Here, up above his concrete grave? Up here, hanging down the chimney railing, with this snake of a friend being his last straw between life and death? And then, the sudden realisation washed over him like a cold tide. And then, without a blink or a second thought, he lets go. A pair of hazel eyes, troubled, terrified, torn and lost, sink down into darkness. “I won’t leave you, Mikey!” is a distant echo of a raspy, terrified voice in between the rain and thunder. “I won’t leave you, Mikey!” A fraction of a grin passes Michael’s lips “But hell was I more than ready to leave you…” is his last thought as he lets go and let the gravity pull him down.

“MICHAEL!”

The world slows down with the first agonizing beat of his heart. Raindrops around him freeze in place, fire red and shiny like a scattered bloody diamonds carrying his weight. A flash of lightning illuminates the terrified face above him, hand outstretched, desperately trying to reach for him but also knowing damn well it’s too late. Michael looks around him. Everything perfectly sharp and visible, tinted scarlet and blue, with every edge glowing wildly. The weightless eternity of his existence, just hanging above the ground in between his heartbeats.

Ba-dum

A flash of bright white light blinds him for a second before he realizes where he is. The smell of an old truck, speeding on a dirt road is something hard to forget, especially when the smell attacks his nostrils so violently through an open window. Michael looks around him. The insides of the truck are darkened against the painfully bright sun reflecting the crisp green and warm ochre outside. The fuel tank is almost empty, the gas pedal glued to the floor. A photo of a nameless naked girl printed on a car scent card, swaying in a breeze under the passenger seat. Plush dice furiously swinging from side to side on the rearview mirror. All of this is oddly familiar.

Michael dares a look in the rearview mirror. He stares into a pair of bright blue eyes, full of determination and perhaps a bit of fear. He could swear he knows them too. A strand of dark hair combed back neatly, falls down to them, making him blink and swing it right back. He looks at his hands and sees no ring, only a rim of the leather sleeve of his jacket. Inspecting it further, he sees a couple of sewn symbols as it hangs nonchalantly by the sides of his muscular torso. He grins stupidly as his eyes follow lines of muscles sticking up against a tight white fabric of his tank top. He continues to check himself as the engine roars and hot air breaks apart on his windshield. His jeans are as tight as his top, and sneakers just as worn out as they should be to still be called fashionable. “Wow, this can’t be me” he grins as he checks his face in the mirror again. No wrinkles. No worries. No assassins after his ass. Just a pair of bright, ocean blue eyes and a cocky smile of a kid who hardly knows what future lays ahead.

Michael laughs as he pushes the gas even further, stomping on it like a fucking maniac. The engine groans with pain but accelerates anyway. Suddenly, there is a horn ripping apart the perfect memory. Michael looks into a mirror curiously, frowning his perfect eyebrows, a faint wrinkle haunting his forehead. A second truck, with the same roar and even greater speed, emerges from the turn behind him and by the looks of it, the driver is furious with him.

“Oh shit, here we go again… Just perfect!” he swears below his breath and takes a sharp turn right just as the truck reaches the back of his own vehicle. There is a high pitched screech as the truck turn in top speed, trying it’s best not to fall oven, rolling on only one set of wheels before falling back on all six with an angry thud sound. “I must find the damn plane, it should be around here somewhere, fuck” Michael swears and feels a couple of sweats drops pearl on his forehead. He looks back into the mirror. The truck is behind him. Closing in. There is a familiar shine of a gun in the dark behind the windshield. “FUCK!”

Another turn. Another screech. Sweat. Curse. Heart racing. Heat. Engine roaring. Plane. Where is the fucking plane?

Michael literally flies over the top of a ditch as he desperately tries to land the truck on wheels and not on its side. There is a glimpse of shiny metal in the distance suddenly and his heart races. This is it. Just to get there before the jerk gets him. He bites his lip and stomps on the gas again, furiously, desperately. The metal of the plane shines again as he gets closer and he looks for a man he was supposed to meet. Somewhere down in his guts, there is a fear mixing with anticipation and stirring his insides like a bloody blender. He can’t wait to see him and be saved.

A pair of slender jeans-clad legs twitch impatiently in the shadow of the plane. There he is.

If it wasn’t for a fact he could destroy the plane, he would have never braked so hard and just circle around to get the look again and again forever. He could, in fact, do it - this is his memory so he could do whatever he fucking please - but everything feels too real, including the young man leaned back on the wing of the plane.

Something in his pose is so captivating Michael can not quite put his head around it. The man’s elbows are supporting him, placed on a grey painted wing. Leather aviation jacket with a maple leaf sewn on it, wrinkled on his shoulders which were as wide and strong as his chest showing below his a worn-out t-shirt, yet slender and elegant as the line of his body run down to a perfect waist, accented by a belt of his jeans. One hip slightly raised as he relaxed one of his long legs, probably to even the weight of his heavy boots. Michael inhales deeply and gulped down something that feels almost like… Well, he can’t name it, but the look is captivating. The man looks in direction of the other truck, so Michael has a couple of seconds to study his face. It is framed by a thick mane of brown hair, and aviator shades, too big and dark to see his eyes properly. His nose as sharp as his cheekbones and jawline, with a trace of baby fat still there, giving him a dangerously adorable look. Where Michael loses it are his lips - full and with cupid’s bow curved in a perfectly kissable way, almost unreal for a man to have. Compared to his thin line of a mouth, these lips are angelic. Something deep inside of him awakens with a roar and the feeling of warmth fills him up completely, as he looks at the young man’s face again.

“Trevor…” he hears himself whisper. “T…” as tender as the letter can be, escaping his lips all over again to numb the sharp pain in his chest. What exactly is this feeling? Did he always feel this way about Trevor? Is his dying mind playing tricks on him?

He loses himself in a plump curve of Trevor’s lips for a moment once again before he’s torn from this perfect world with a wild screech of brakes and violent blow of a horn.

“Come out right NOW!” A hoarse voice calls from the other truck as a middle-aged man does his best to get out of the driver’s seat. Michael caught the sight in the mirror. While he takes a deep breath he kicks the door open and jumps out of the truck. 

“What’s your problem, old fart?” he yells, as cocky as he possibly can to cover how fucking frightened he really is, puffing up his chest, putting up a toothy grin and holding onto his hips to appear larger. “Can’t get it up so you drive all the way here to beat my ass for fun?”. The old man clenches his fists, squaring up his shoulders and cracking his neck. Michael blinks a couple of times as he watches the familiar figure step out of the shadow of the truck. As the man moves closer, Michael’s cocky grin freezes and slowly twists into pure horror. The man raises his head and if there ever was a bit of doubt in who it was, it vanished right into a face of the impaling summer sun.

It’s the older version of him. De Santa part of his soul, peering right back at him through a familiar frown with all the self-hate and beast-like cruelty written all over his wrinkled face. Michael’s mouth opens and closes in a shock. Is this who he has become? He can still remember all the things he did in his life as if his old self got caught up in the young body. He remembers, gets glimpses of memories, but it’s not the same thing as to face who he inevitably grows to be. De Santa looks him in the eyes as if he knows exactly what he is thinking about with an evil grin. As fast as he can, without blinking, De Santa raises his gun and points it right at Trevor.

Michael gasps. “What the fuck are you doing, you prick?”

Trevor flinches and presses his back against the plane with a deep growl.

“Put that down or I’ll make a pudding out of your brain right fucking now!”, Trevor utters with the only gun he could retrieve from the plane in a second, which, to Michael’s eternal amusement, is a fucking flare gun. De Santa shows a couple of teeth as he grins at Trevor. “The only thing I want is a second to talk to my little friend here. Don’t be stupid, Trevor, and give me a chance to make things right for both of us” The man with a flare gun raises his eyebrows and lowers the gun a few millimetres before raising it again. “Fuck, I don’t know where you heard my name or who snitched it but I swear to god if you botch this job you won’t see the sun up tomorrow you cake filled fuck face!”

Michael chuckled as he heard Trevor give his older self familiar names. He really let himself go too far to be called fit and made a mental note not to waste his second chance in life to eat the hate away. De Santa seems pleased as well, a heartwarming smile crossing his lips before they are solid and serious again. “Michael, I know what you felt back then, and what you feel now. I know you are going to chase it until you lose interest and leave a broken shell. Wasn’t it your... our favourite pastime after every game? Get a girl, get the most of it for a week and then ditch her without a second thought?” Michael blinks and searches for rusty memories. With eyes wide and lips pursued, he nods. “You see Trevor there? He’s not a stupid cheerleader you can play like a fiddle. Even now, with this badass facade of his, he feels something for you.” Trevor fidgets uncomfortably and Michael catches with a corner of his eye how Trevor swallows and lets his lips part for a second. Fucking Bingo.

“And you feel it too. That is a serious business, Michael.” De Santa pauses to raise his gun again. “You know what happens in future, don’t you? Say a word and decide - should I kill him and let you forget, get a normal life with normal wife and normal kids, the one you’ve always wanted…” he pauses to turn to Michael now, who instinctively raises his hands and stumbles a couple of steps back with a gun pointed at him “or should I kill you both to get this Shakespearean shit over with before it even begins? We both know too well what he means to..to us.” Michael exhales and feels the world slow down once more as he watches a tear roll down De Santas expressionless cheek and turns to Trevor. The wind plays with Trevor’s hair and his hands shake as he throws down his shades. A pair of amber eyes, wide with awe, pierce him with the same question. Growing old with or without him? Can he bear living without his precious punk? Can he let all the memories slip right out of his mind and fill it in with a long line of one night stands and even longer lines of coke? Oh, and why does his chest clench so much? Could it be...love?

Michael inhales carefully and turns back to De Santa, with time raging in the normal speed now. “Kill me. You know too well I could never live without him by my side.” A hot blow of wind carries a sound of a trigger, sudden and unforgiving. Michael blinks and watches a flare screw into De Santa’s eye, as he pulls the trigger too. The bullet licks his ear and jams with a hiss into the truck behind him. A high, blood-chilling scream pierce his ears and adds to wild pounding in his ears. Right before his wide eyes, De Santa’s body is fighting inevitable, hands trying to pull the flare out, only to help it dig deeper. Burned flesh and skin shed dreadful black shreds onto the dirt below their feet. Deep grey smoke fills the air with sweet stench and cries right out of hell. And then, silence and a pair of terrified amber eyes, vanishing into another flash of light.

Ba-dum

Michael opens his eyes to see a mouldy ceiling of a random motel, illuminated with a mix of orange, pink and blue neon light splattered across the room. His body feels hot but exhausted at the same time, gradually allowing him to sink back to full consciousness. He looks around, blinking to get rid of heaviness on his eyelids. Stark naked, his skin shiny with sweat, brilliantly white, glowing with reflections of light as a perfect opposite of the damp dark sheets.

Michael turns to his side, instinctively looking for a pack of cigarettes. He has always had one ready on a nightstand wherever he went and remembers this too well. He has always smoked after sex, he realises with a smug smirk and almost makes it to the pack before a pair of tanned arms wrap around him. A deep “Mikey...don’t leave me” comes from behind him, half snore, half sleep talk. Michael freezes for a second before turning around to make sure the deep, smooth voice belongs to the man he thinks it does.

Just as he remembered, Trevor stretched his arms in his sleep, for once looking peaceful and even angelic in all his content and innocence. He looks like a child, curled up on his side, hair in his mouth, stuck to open lips with a string of saliva. Eyes shut, barely moving, eyelashes long and shaking to the rhythm of his own light snores. “Mikey” Trevor whimpers again and curls even more, clutching the blanket, brows knotting. “Shh… I am right here,T” Michael whispers, and as gently as he can, brushes the lock of hair out of Trevor’s mouth. Trevor smacks his lips and smiles sincerely from his sleep. “I love you, Mikey...”. Michael jolts a bit but tries his best not to wake his sleeping companion. Was this even the same memory, or is his dying mind making a damn fool of him? Has Trevor actually said that? He blinks a couple of times, supporting himself with his elbow on his side as he brushes Trevor’s cheek absentmindedly with his fingers. With wide, serious eyes, Michael observes the goosebumps on Trevor’s arm, showing with each end every careful stroke of his fingers. Trevor’s snores and low mumble gives him the strength to continue down his neck, fingers outstretched, tracing smooth skin below his fingertips. Trevor moans from his sleep when Michael’s fingers gently brushed past his nipple. “You always had a soft spot here, T” Michael whispers under his breath and let his aching heart rule him for once. All the uneasiness and tense are suddenly gone as his tongue circles around his lover’s chest. The skin below him is salty and hot, and the taste lingers on his tongue, driving him mad. His hand wanders down the outline of Trevor’s body, tracing down his abdomen to find what he is looking for. Trevor’s cock welcomes his hand with a jolly throb and fit into his palm much better than he would ever admit. “Mmm” Trevor moans and arches his back, biting his lower lip “so much for sleeping with a horny cupcake beside me, huh?” and greets Michael with a toothy grin “Ready for round two, pork chop?” Michael chuckles, stroking Trevor slowly but firmly “I was born ready, baby” and let himself be pulled into a kiss.

The room dissolves around them as Michael seals his lips with Trevors, and some kind of force pulls them both up, right into the star painted indigo sky. His lips desperately caress and sucks Trevor’s and his tongue explore and swirls with a hunger he has never felt before. Just the kiss, just the taste, just the sensation is enough for him to forget who he became, where he belongs and what he was about to do in a couple of years in this reality. It is just his lips and Trevor’s lips under the moonlight and everything feels right in the centre of this universe.

He pulls back eventually, gasping for air, licking his lips frantically not to waste a bit of the heavenly taste of his lover’s lips, fading back to the stained sheets. Trevor pants below him, lips curved into a toothy, genuine smile he has only seen once or twice before. Michael can not help but smile back, cupping Trevor’s cheek with one hand, running his thumb alongside Trevor’s lower lip. Trevor purrs deeply under his touch, staring right back to his eyes. Michael feels something building up around his heart - a heat that could only mean one thing. “I love you too, Trevor” he exhaled, voice deep with honesty. With a smile, he watches the change in Trevor’s expression, eyes dark and wide, mouth open in shock. “What did you just…” Trevor gulped, tears collecting in his eyes as he crawls away from Michael’s touch. Michael’s chest suddenly hurt as if someone squeezed it. “Shh, I mean it - trust me, Trevor. Just trust me, baby, ok?” Michael whispers with a smile still playing around corners of his mouth, but not as certain as it was a second ago. Trevor jerks and jumps of the bed, retrieving slowly towards the window.

“Why are you always like that, Michael? So fucking full of lies” His voice trembled as much as his knees. Michael’s eyes look his body up and down, and only welcoming part is his dick, twitching, helplessly calling for a fondling hand “Why do you do this to me?”

Michael blinks a couple of times, trying hard to remember what he did to earn this reaction. As far he knows, this was one of those nights they spent together, drinking or drugging, crawling on top of one or the other, riding the hell out of the high, bodies twisted into a hot, sweating mush. It won’t hurt to ask, right? 

“Trevor, calm down. What the hell happened to you?” his voice firm and certainly more annoyed than he had meant it to be. Trevor puffs up, clenching his fists. “What happened to me? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ME?” Michael stiffens as a shockwave of Trevor’s angered roar washes over him, leaving him speechless.

“Are you serious? You have a fucking audacity to ask me what happened with that knocked up tramp waiting for you at the altar now? What the fuck am I to you then, huh? Am I just a fun old cheap bitch you fuck after a score? A toy you toss away when it doesn't comfort your taste anymore? Or.. or a dumbass to do all the dirty work for you just for a meaningless fuck?” Trevor’s voice trembles again, but only to gather enough strength to rumble through paper-thin walls again. “I am not stupid, Michael. I can see the pattern. You get high, you tell me you love me, fuck me and then you sober up and get on with your oh so great denial only to do it again and again. You dance around in your pathetic suit pants, killing anyone calling you a faggot! Oh, and while you are at it, you knock up a hooker and marry her just to show everybody you are a good old boobs’n’snatch family guy. Do you want your American dream family with a coke-snorting bitch and a batch of white trash bastards? Well then be my guest and get the fuck out of here, Michael”

Trevor kicks the door open, spitting his name out with a sting of disgust that lingers in the air long after it is said. A familiar blue haze of Michael’s anger pierces right through him and floods his system. With clenched fists, he springs up. “Okay, whatever, dipshit. Just make sure you are not late tomorrow” is what escapes Michael’s lips, without him even noticing. Something constricts his chest as he pulls up his jeans and throws his t-shirt over his head, facing Trevor. There are wet trails on his cheeks for sure, but something dark creeps behind them. Michael looks up to see two broken mirrors of amber eyes, staring back at him. For once, he feels the urge to fight the memory and stay. Stay a little longer. Cup Trevor’s face in his hands and tell him he won’t ever leave his side. Tell him he means what he said and they should elope, riding scooters hand in hand to the sunset. Trevor’s sob brings him back to reality as he approaches him carefully. “Trevor, I’m sorry…” is the last thing he utters before the memory fades in the familiar explosion of white light.

 Ba-dum

Michael blinks as he opens his eyes, looking around. He hardly recognizes the surroundings - judging by the scattered tombstones, people hunched down dressed in black and a thick layer of snow, he is somewhere up north, and on a goddamn cemetery. With all the white around him and heavy snowflakes falling down from a steel-grey sky, he should have been frozen solid at least 15 minutes ago, but somehow, he feels fine. Weightless even. There is something odd in a way people pass him by, without noticing him standing there, walking right onto him “Hey, watch it!” he hisses as an old lady walks right through him, leaving but a swirl of air where an outline of his torso was a second ago. Her sniffs and crunches of fresh snow under her shoes fade out into a deepening silence. She didn’t even notice, did she?

Michael looks at his hands, terrified. They are... translucent? What the hell happened to him? Is he a ghost? Michael’s eyes widen and his mouth fall open. Did he die already or what? With a deep breath of crisp air, he once again raises his head and scrutinizes his surroundings. His head feels like it might explode with all the wild ideas and questions swirling inside it. Has he ever been here before? The place seems familiar. Why is he here? Is it somehow significant? Michael inspects the closest tombstone on his right and chuckles lowly. Of fucking course. This was his grave. Michael fucking Townley’s grave.

This is where the boy from the nameless Canadian airfield lays along with his dreams and ambitions, dressed in his old football gear. What’s left is a ghost, a memory, levitating in the air, thinking about what went wrong with his life to end up like this. Hated, hunted, betrayed by a man he considered his son, left by the one he called brother. 

A muffled sob from behind him makes him jump and turn around. A tall man in a stained thick coat looks right trough him and brushes his nose with a hand dressed in an old fingerless glove. Michael stares at him in awe - what the hell is Trevor doing here? If he is right in his assumption and the grave is still too fresh, the place would be swarming with FIB agents, waiting for those stupid enough to come his grave. Michael raises his hands to place them on Trevor’s shaking shoulders, but in his new form, his palms go right trough them only to fall back to each of his side. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, TREVOR!” He tries as a feeling of panic raises within him. The taller man not even flinch. “TREVOR!!!”

The only answer he gets is the sound of teardrop crash landing in the snow beneath his feet. It is the first time Michael notices the broken posture and his shaking chin, with a stream of tears flooding it. It is the first time he sees Trevor truly broken. It is the first time he sees what Trevor meant when he told him he loved him.

“I know you hate it when I’m crying Mikey, but I… I just can’t help it” Trevor uttered in a high, shaky voice. “I’m just so sorry!”. Michael instinctively jumped when Trevor fell to his knees where he would stay if he had a real body, not holding back anymore. “I’m so sorry Mikey! This is all my fault!”

Even in his current form, Michael’s chest tightened. He has never admitted he hated to see Trevor cry only because it hurts him a great deal, and now with his closest friend kneeling broken on his alleged grave, the pain comes uninvited and sits on his back as heavy as a fucking mountain. 

“If I… If I stayed... if I was the one who helped Brad you could…”

“No, Trevor. If you stayed, you would be dead. Don’t blame yourself for my fuck ups.”

“It’s funny, I can almost hear you now, you know?” 

Michael freezes on the spot. Could it be... “Trevor, T, can you hear me?”

A low chuckle escapes Trevor’s mouth before it is muffled by sobs once again.

“Yeah, I know, it’s bullshit. Of course, I cannot hear you. I am just imagining things, I guess... I just want to hear your voice once again. I want to hold you and kiss you one last time. Remember that time,” Trevor blows his nose and takes in a deep breath, finally getting a grip of his crying “Remember when we stopped by a lake in the middle of nowhere, and you wanted to go swimming? How we planned to stay for a night but ended up camping for a whole week? I’ve never told you how beautiful you are in the morning light - I just called you a fatso then and you smashed my head with a pan.” Corners of Trevor’s mouth twitch with a shy smile upon the memory. Michael just watches him, desperate to hold him close and never let him go. Of course, he remembers the summer of ‘89 and the glint in those amber eyes whenever they watched him. He remembers the bubbly laughter, flat beer and the smell of campfire in Trevor’s hair when they made love.

“Remember how we drank so much we started slow dancing at midnight and the sky reflected in your eyes? That was the first time I told you I love you. You laughed and shrugged it off. But I meant it then and I mean it forever.” Trevor’s tears easily tear down his weak self-control and make his fists hit the ground with crushing force. “You told me I had no idea what love is, but I do, Michael, I DO!” A sudden yell made a couple of other people increase their pace and turn around in fear. “AAAARGH, I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH MIKEY IT TEARS ME APART!! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!”

Only now that Trevor hunched over the grave has Michael noticed a rope, resting stuffed into one of Trevor’s coat pockets. Oh no. Oh fuck. What is he going to do? Is he really going to… “TREVOR!”

The man in question just let tremors run through his body, hunched over the grave.

“TREVOR! DON’T TELL ME YOU WANT TO HANG YOURSELF!”

The only answer is the man slowly rising to his feet, chin pressed to his chest, dirty hair falling to his eyes.

“T, PLEASE, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Trevor turns his gaze from the tombstone to an oak and its bare branches, standing mortified in the far end of the cemetery.

“NO, T, DON’T DO IT! I AM RIGHT HERE, PLEASE T!”

Corners of Trevor’s mouth twitch in what could be a smile, but Michael knows deep down it is relief. With the love of his life dead and gone, the world turning its back on him, with no future whatsoever, Trevor wants to go down the path of the last resort, the path Michael dreads.

“T, PLEASE!! I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON’T!”

An easy, tired smile settles on Trevor’s lips. 

“Today is different, Mikey. I think I really hear you now - it is as if you said you loved me and wanted me to stay. But we both know I can’t love a whisper in the wind. You are here now and in a second you are gone. As always.”

Trevor takes a few steps, crunching of the fresh snow piercing the darkening sky.

“I want to be there with you, to see you and feel you the way you let me when we were young and high.”

Snow under Trevor’s feet listens in fear of what is it about to witness. Michael reaches out but fails to get hold of his friend once more. Trevor’s shoulders tense for a second before relaxing once again with a heavy sigh.

“Please don’t try to stop me, Michael. I have nowhere else to go. I need you.”

Trevor’s steps grow frequent as he inevitably approaches the tree and halts right in front of it, his fingers brushing over the smooth cold bark.

“Goodbye, Mikey. For now. I’ll see you in a few.”

Michael’s panic rises to levels he didn’t think were possible. He knows he can’t help Trevor, he knows he can’t reason with him but fuck him if he does not try to save him.

His eyes frantically search for someone, anyone he could call and alarm. The cemetery is almost empty. The only sound is the soft swish of snowflakes and screeching of Trevor’s boots as he climbs the tree to fasten the noose. There must be someone here - Michael knows his grave is the perfect moth trap - and fuck him if he’s wrong but there is a familiar figure leaning against the metal fence. “Oh shit, it can’t be…”

Dave Norton has just returned from his afternoon break with a cup of steaming coffee and a fresh issue of Los Santos Times when a strange touch of ice-cold air on the scruff of his neck makes him shiver. It’s not like he’s not used to long hours in freezing temperatures, but this one is oddly different. He puts down his cup and traces the back of his neck with hot fingers, but the snowflake he is searching for is nowhere to be found. “Oh well, whatever. Just a wind.” He thinks as he grabs for a cup when is suddenly tumbles over and spills all the coffee into the snow. In many years he has been an agent, Dave learned not to be surprised by a lot of things. Tax evasions, sex scandals, terrorist threats. It all shaped him in a twisted way and let him harden enough to act cold and precise in any situation he happened to be in. But this shit, it surprised the fuck out of him. He didn’t even touch the cup! There is absolutely no logical explanation of why it would bounce up and spill like that except for something grabbing it and letting go. Suddenly, the cold sensation was back and made little hair on his neck stand up in fright. Turn around. Look behind you. Turn around and look now. Those words bounce inside his head as if it was a pinball board and someone stubbornly added more and more balls to it. His head throbs, fighting the intrusion to no avail. In one bright flash of white light, a simple sentence appears right before his eyes: Turn around PLEASE!!

Ok ok, he’s turning NOW and… oh shit…

Michael has never felt this spend and tired in his life. He can barely see the outline of his own ghostly body now as it slowly dissolves into the void. Even if he wanted, he would barely give a fuck with the scene right before his eyes.

Dave stands below Trevor, forcing him up and back onto the branch. Trevor’s reddened face is damp with tears and his voice is hoarse when he shouts at Dave and begs him to let go, kicking a couple of times. Dave grabs for his gun and cuts the rope with a couple of shots that echo through the dark and bounce from one grave to another. Trevor falls into the abused snow below him with a loud thud and curls up in a fit of pained cry that makes Michael feel like shit. It is all his fault. The dark purple ligature mark in place of Trevor’s future “cut here” tattoo screams at him accusingly what his own mind has offered him so many times he stopped counting.  He always put himself first and made people who cared about him miserable. If only he could lay beside him if only he could comfort him, if only he was given a chance to tell him how much he loved him, how much he cared, how sorry he was for things to come to this end. His final thought before he dissolves in the crisp air is of a pair of warm amber eyes looking up at him with so much love and care it makes him shiver. “Please forgive me, T.”

 Ba-dum

A flash of bright white light led him back to his body this time. A roar of thunder kick-started the time. The shining diamonds of the raindrops hit the ground with a final splash before glazing the concrete with a red light covered wet coat. Up above him, Franklin curses. What a nice kid. “I forgive you,” he thinks as he braces himself for the impact. “I have the death I deserve” When Michael feels the cold touch of death on his back and draws in his lasts breath, the pure white light shines back in time with his racing heart, each flash brighter than the one before. All the pictures of his life run before his eyes - the first time he saw Trevor, the first time they kissed, the birth of Tracey, her first laugh and first uncertain steps, Jimmy’s first words, years of denial, broken promises drowned in whiskey and his recent flashbacks. He is about to die with a regret, Michael notes with a bitter taste on his palate - and that would be to make all of this right. If only he was strong enough to see past his beliefs and just let things happen as they were meant to be. If only he could turn back time, hug Franklin and let him handle things the way he wanted, call Amanda and let her go figure out her own happiness, give his children enough money to go to college and live on their own and then run into the pair of arms he sorely missed. If only he could tell him how sorry he was and how much he truly meant to him. He would hold Trevor close right there, in his ramshackle, grim-soaked trailer, stroke the summer heat out of his hair and whisper his feelings right into those beautiful ears. Yet another strike of thunder reminds him of what happened in the cemetery and the last teardrop escapes his eye and slips down his cooling cheek only to join millions of its kin on the ground as he exhaled one last time.

I love you, M. “I love you, T.”

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 21

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

      When I woke the next day, head aching as bad as I expected, but there was a sort of pulling sensation I didn’t quite get.  I pawed at my temples.  There was a fresh wrap on my head that I did not remember putting there.  Leimomi must have done it in my sleep, and maybe a bit tightly.  I adjusted it.

      Then I realized that meant she would have had at least a few moments alone with that fucking bitch Reverse Courtney.  I was very alarmed by that.  What if she made it seem like that was my inner thoughts, that her hateful trash was my real feelings?  I couldn’t stand that.

      Leimomi was nowhere to be seen.  I stood up too quick, grabbed my head, and staggered around a moment.  She appeared in the doorway, all clean and wrapped up herself, the daylight lining her body.  She looked at me in concern, and I searched her face for a hint of Reverse Courtney trauma.

      “Did my stupid-ass head mouth say anything mean to you when I was asleep?”

      “I think so, but I don’t remember.  I only had it out for a moment, and I covered it.  I was real tired.”  She came into the darkness with me and held me in her arms.  “Are you OK?”

      I closed my eyes.  “Real hungover, but really good too.”  I lolled my head at unpleasant memories.  “I’m gonna try to forget my apartment exists for a few more hours, heh.”

      She kissed me and it turned into a little makeout session, right there.  I loved wrapping her in my scrawny arms, rubbing her all over.  I hoped it didn’t feel too much like being flogged with skeleton bones.

      Leimomi got me a bottle of water and then joined me on her bed.  I was still in the bathrobe from the other night, she was in capri leggings and a t-shirt.  We stayed on top of the blankets.

      “Thanks for helping me clean up, baby.  We gotta figure out a cleaner way to do all that.  Or just set my apartment on fire when we’re done with everybody, heh.”

      “It’s OK, Courtney.”  She ran a palm from my chest down to my belly, parting the robe.  “We’re both nice and clean.  You wanna fool around?”

      “Maybe just a little.  I dunno if I can go all the way with this headache.”

      “Aww.”  She pulled her hand back.

      “In for a penny, in for a pound?”

      “What?”

      “You don’t wanna fool around a little, gotta have a big climax or it isn’t worth your time?”

      “I dunno.  Why just do sex stuff a little?  That would be frustrating.”

      “Sometimes it can feel nice.”  I rolled onto my side to better look her in the face.  “Like, I’d love to kiss your *redacted* but I don’t think I’ve got the stamina to finish what I start.  But you might still kinda like it, even if it’s frustrating?  I know I’d like it.”  I made a grabby hand gesture in the air to underscore my point.  Give me those things, please.

      “Mm, OK, but if I get lady blue balls, I’m gonna be mad at you.”  She whipped off her shirt.

      *sex scene redacted for tumblr*

      Maybe we both fell asleep after that, or she just let me sleep for a bit, until we were roused by a knock at the door.

      I wrapped myself up to answer it, because Leimomi still had to wrestle her bra back on.

      “Marcie, hey.  Sorry I can’t invite you in just now.  You wanted to see Momi?”

      “I just wanted to see you, thank you for helping Mikey!”

      “Hey,” he said.  The daylight in the apartment had me a bit blind for looking into the hall, with its weak electric lights.  I hadn’t noticed him lurking behind her.

      “Mike, hey.  Feeling better?  Or worse?”

      “I’ll be alright.  Being green was kinda like being high, so I’m not too hot right now, but Marce is takin’ care of me.  She’s a saint.”

      “Well great.  I love you guys.  Have a nice one,” I said.

      “Love you too, girl!”

      I came back in, feeling nice, despite the low thunder in my head, and lay down on the bed again.  “Mike seems great.  It’ll be good to get done with this shit, but I just can’t do it again tonight.”  I laid a paw on her arm.

      “I figured.  That was rough.”

      “I know we can’t afford to wait for the next full moon.  Maybe we’ll just take one night off and go back to it.  I can try to come up with different spells for all our problems.”

      “Would you kick me in the stomach like Mike?”

      “Never.  Might have to shave your pretty hair, though.  I hope not.”

      She had a moment of alarm at the prospect but then shook it off.  “That’s silly.  I’ll be glad to go bald for a while to get rid of this problem.”  Then she looked sharply at me.  “But will you love me if I’m bald?”

      I grinned.  “Hell yes.”

      “But why?  That would be so ugly.”

      “No way, baby.  You’re real cute.  I love your hair but I haven’t seen it in a while, y’know?  I’m still coming around.”

      “If you say so.”

      “I do.”  I was about to say it would make her look more gay, and I’d love that too, but I knew that conversation would tread into territory where I’d find out whether she really thinks of me as a woman, and it killed my mood.

      “What do you like about me?  Is it just my big *******?”  She was looking coy, which is great, because I couldn’t handle her self esteem problems right then - not as well as she deserved.

      “Yes, hahaha.”  I squeezed * ***** maniacally and she pushed me back until my head squished into the pillow, threatening to lose the headwrap.  We settled down and I grabbed her hand.  “Seriously, I love everything about you.”

      “You don’t know everything about me.”

      “You aren’t who you used to be.  You’re who you are right now, and I know who that is.  You’re my girlfriend.”

      “I guess that’s true.”  She put an arm behind my head and I snuggled into place.

      “I was thinking about it.  I don’t know if I ever dated an Islander before.”

      She smiled.  “Just how many people did you date, Courtney?”

      I gripped her around the waist and shook her around.  “Grrr!”  I flopped back down beside her.  It was too much effort.  “You win, I’m a huge slut.  Huge hungover slutty slut.”

      “I love you, slut.”

      “I love you too, honey.”  I relaxed again.  “Anyway, I just mention that Islander thing, because it feels significant.  Like, I’ve never dated anybody that looks like my people.  You don’t look like the average Pinay, but if you flipped the islands probably a few Leimomi lookalikes would fall out.”

      “That’s weird.  Why you say that?”

      “I can imagine a different life, where we were from the same place.  Same neighborhood.  Where we grew up together.”

      “Oh no, you don’t wanna be in Pearl City with my family.”

      “That’s not what I mean.”  I touched her face.  “Get with me on this.  Just hear me out.”

      “OK...”

      “We’re in some kinda place that never existed.  Pilipwaii.  It’s a nice island, low key people working hard and not so many hustlers and problems.”

      “Pilipwaii?  What’s it look like?”

      “There’s a mountain but it isn’t an active volcano, pretty worn down.  The reefs around the island got so big they shelter it from storms.  The city is on a little plane, growing stuff like cane, bamboo, coconuts, bananas, mangos.  The only school is a catholic school, so we grew up being chased around by nuns with rulers.”

      “Why mean nuns?  You want the story to be nice.”

      “I want it to be believable.  So trouble in paradise, baby.  Anyway, you and me are schoolgirls together, best friends.”

      “How could I be friends with you?  You’re smart and--”

      “There aren’t so many kids in a small town.  Everybody knows everybody, and we just like each other, right?  I hope you can find that believable, because you’re my girlfriend.”

      “I’m your girlfriend in the story?”

      “Not yet.  Listen.”

      “Hmm.”

      “We’re just friends.  Best friends.  It can happen all kinds of ways.  You know, I’ve always had friends that are different from me.  Maybe I got hurt and you helped me out, or I helped you with your homework, or you were sad and I was nice to you one time.  And it stuck, we stuck together.  Best friends, in Pilipwaii.”

      “At the school with the mean nuns.”

      “That’s right.  So one day, I’m in love with this boy, and he’s mean to me.  He tricks me and then says he doesn’t like me in front of some other girls and everybody laughs and stuff.”

      “This is too sad.  Did the nuns laugh too?”

      “They did.”

      “I’ll kill ’em.”

      “It’s OK.  So I run home, I’m all sad and it’s terrible.  You find me and help me feel better, hug me and say nice things.”

      “I love you,” she said, and gave me a little squeeze.

      “That’s right.  Something like that.  We’re there, say, in a gazebo.  Big blue dragonflies are flying by.  It’s hot but there’s a cold breeze blowing off the ocean.  We’re schoolgirls, best friends, and you hold me and say, Hugo is a stupid ugly boy and I deserve better, and you love me and stuff.”

      “I hope the nuns don’t hear that.”

      “Well, you just mean, you love me like a friend, right?  We say that stuff, like friends.  But this time I’m looking you in the eye and I realize, maybe we could be more than friends.  But it’s a little island, so nobody ever told us that being gay is an option, right?”

      “This story is weird, Courtney.”

      “Is it OK?”  I searched her face.  She nodded in approval and I resumed.  “Well right, so you and me, we’re there, we’re schoolgirls, and we never heard the word lesbian in our lives, but I’m still super into you.  And then I kiss you, and you start to get it.”

      “Whoa.”  She looked at me, then away to the ceiling, and back again, thinking about it all.

      “Is that a good whoa or a bad whoa?”

      “Wait.  Now I know why people think schoolgirl skirts are sexy.”

      “Hehehe, nooo, I’m not trying to be a pervert.  I’m just saying, for all it matters, we could love each other any kinda way.  Like, it doesn’t matter how we got here.  Let’s just say we came from Pilipwaii.”

      “OK, but tell me about our skirts.  Are they kinda short?”

      “No, they’re long.  It’s a little island.  Very conservative.  But our shirts have short sleeves and we have little bow ties.”

      “That’s cute.  And you kissed me, and I start to get it, like, hey, we could love each other.  No Hugo.”

      “Yeah.  So we kiss and it’s kinda sloppy and stupid because we don’t know what we’re doing or know what to do.”

      “And I start to figure it out,” Leimomi said, “like what I wanna do.”  She reached inside my bathrobe, *redacted*

      “Oh no, I gasp!  I shy away.  It’s all so fast.  What are we doing?  Have we gone crazy?”

      “Whut.”

      “It’s part of the bit.  Like, there’s a push and pull.  Will we or won’t we?”

      “Oh.  But we will, right?”

      “You fucking know we will, baby.”  I kissed her savagely.  “But right now,” I panted a little, “I’m terrified of this forbidden love.”

      “I’m so sad, I can’t handle it.  I guess I’ll cry.”

      “Don’t cry, Leimomi.  I come back to you, take your hands.  What is this?  What are we doing?  We’re both girls.  It isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

      “But why?  Nobody is around, we can do whatever we want.  I want to love you so much, Courtney.”

      “It works, I’m like, oh shit, I can’t handle it anymore.  I open my shirt up.”

      “Heeheehee, yeah, now you’re talking.  I open my shirt up too.”

      *redacted*

      “It’s time for freedom.  Young ladies inventing lesbianism for the first time in the Universe, since all the other times it happened for other girls.”

      She pulled off her t-shirt again.  “Cool.”

      I unfastened her bra and *redacted sexy / emotional content*

      Were we being romantic or dirty?  Both by turns, but those turns proved awkward to navigate.

      We *redacted* and talked dirty and sweet until we both *redacted*  She’d already worn herself out some that morning, and I was surprised she was able to go again like that.  *redacted*

      In the afterglow, she didn’t jump up or freak out, which was great.  And I hadn’t gone down on her, so there was no question about kissing afterward.  We snuggled up, just the thin material of my bathrobe between us to reduce sweat.  I was tempted to *redacted* but I resisted the urge to avoid coming off like a total freak.

                                                        ***

      There was another knock at the door.  I rolled my eyes, put my robe on, and answered it.

      “Hey Patrick.  Were you looking for me?  Does Perry need help with something?”

      “Kinda.  I was wonderin’, how do we say who gets ta go next?  I’d like to go, get it done.”

      “My priority has been whoever is in the most danger of ratting us out, getting us in trouble.  You have something like that going on?”

      “Naw, it’s just somethin’ personal, bothers me a lot.”

      “Well I think we all need some rest tonight so not now, but maybe tomorrow we see about some kind of plan?  I don’t think anyone else seems likely to be a problem.  Like if Olivia’s head pops up, she can join a circus and make some real money.”

      “Thanks, Courtney, you’re a doll.”  He reached out to shake hands.

      My hands were both behind the door, only my head poking out.  “Ah, hands are full.  Thanks, Patrick.”

      “See ya later!”  He smiled and walked away.

      I looked down the hall after him.  His walk was a little awkward, but was that a clue?  What was going on under his clothes?  Marcie had two holes in her upper chest, I’d found, little squares that puffed out smoke.  Most of the time she could keep it down, but several times a day she had to open the covers to let it out, or she’d feel a burning in her lungs and throat.  Never did hear what Patrick and Perry had going on.

      I pushed the door closed with the backs of my arms, avoiding getting my wet hands on everything.  But that meant my hands were close to my face when she wasn’t looking.  I avoided touching my face, but I took a deep inhale, and one little lick of a finger.  It was awesome.  Sue me.

      I washed my hands and went back to her, sitting on the edge of the bed.  I was going to just stay another moment, but couldn’t resist laying down again.  This time I was on my belly, face propped up with one arm, the other draped over my lovin’ lady.

      “I was thinking about the haircut.  I think it would be real cute.  You could grow it out again later, but for now, it’s fun to play with a different look.”

      “Huh.  That’s weird.  Is it because you’re a grunger?”

      “Hehe, maybe.  But more than that, it’s like...  I know you’re bisexual like me, but you’re in lesbian love now, baby.  It might be fun to see you play the part.  Girls like me have to be girled up all the time just to have a chance of people treating us like we want.  But you?  You could get big flannel shirts and tank tops and stuff.”

      “Whaaat?”  She crinkled her forehead all to Hell like I was trying to teach her quantum mechanics.  “Dress like a lesbian?  Like, butch?”

      “I know, you aren’t really a butch.  You’re a sweet lil’ girly babe.  But it can be fun to play a different style, y’know?  What do you think?”

      “I never thought...  I guess I could.  But how would people look at me?  What would they be like?”

      “Some people might be mean.  A lot of people will be pretty nice.  And in this town?  Ladies will be on your jock, like twenty-five deep at all times.  You’ll have to keep them off you with a baseball bat.  Probably some weird fellas too.”

      “You’re lying.  No way that’s true.  Why would they?”

      “Lesbians like butches, but most of them are not.  It means you’d be a precious rarity.  Plus you’re so cute and tall and strong, you’d kill them dead.  They’d have trouble walking because their legs would go all wobbly around you.  It would be hilarious.”

      “Oh my goodness.”  She touched her face, which was hot and pink.

      I kissed her cheek to steal a little of that heat.  It was mine.  I put it there, after all.  “My cutie.”

      She shook off the embarrassment.  “You just wanna make the lesbians jealous.  That’s mean.”

      “I know.  I’m horrible.  But we gotta eat.  I’ll make us something.”

      I sprang out of bed and put on the clothes I’d brought over the previous night.  Leimomi dressed too, still lost in thought at the prospect of a makeover.  She followed me out and sat down across the kitchenette island from me, on one of the tall stools.  I got to work on some spam, macaroni, and cheese.  I found the sauce from the packets was less gross with some milk and spices added, and randomly found part of a red pepper to mix in.

      “You didn’t think much about being a lesbian before, huh.  What do you think now?  Gonna get those intertwined Venus symbols tattooed?  Doc Martens?”

      “I dunno.  If you think it’s a good idea.”

      “Again this power I have.  I feel like an evil hypnotist from Scooby-Doo.”

      “I just don’t care what I look like, I guess.  Like, you know why.”

      “Sorry, babe.  But yeah, I think it’ll be real fun to get you dyke clothes, at least to wear ’til your hair grows back.”

      “You’re a weird weirdo, but you’re my girlfriend, so I gotta do what you say.”

      “Lovers are supposed to be partners, equals.  If you gotta do what I say, then I gotta do what you say.  Any requests?,” I said, gesturing to the food I was making.

      “Naw.  You do it pretty good.”

      “Just ‘pretty good’?  Sounds like there’s room for improvement.  You don’t have to know how to cook to know how to judge food.  Just think, would I like this better if we did it like that?  I’ve made this for you before.  Didn’t do the pepper last time, but I had green onion and cayenne for garnish.  What did you think?  Was that alright?”

      “Green onion, is that the little green rings?”

      “The way I cut it that time, yeah.”

      “I didn’t mind those, but I didn’t like them either.”

      “That’s OK, I don’t have any this time.  How’d you like the texture?  Like, how it felt in your mouth.”

      “It was OK.”

      “Coulda been better?”

      “I dunno.”

      “Don’t make me follow through on that clown thing.”

      “Hehe.  OK, so what do you want?”

      “Was it too creamy, too thick, too sticky, too rich, too thin?  Do you prefer a different kind of sauce with macaroni?  If it’s really OK, then it’s OK.  But if it’s not OK and you’re pretending just to be nice, I’m gonna make us have clown sex.”

      “Is that a promise?”

      “Alright, so now I see how it is.  You really don’t care about macaroni sauce, and you might be into clown sex.  These are important things to know, for our future together.  I will take these mental notes and never reverse or overwrite them with contravening information.  No matter how much you protest, from now on, I will know that you want to look like a clown when we fuck.”

      “Don’t make it so complicated.”

      “So like, a simple clown outfit, nothing too fancy.  A few polka dots, big shoes, a red nose?”

      “Yeah.  But I thought you wanted me to dress like a butch dyke.”

      “You know the ‘D’ word now?  You’ll be ready for Pride in no time.  Hm...  I gotta figure out where to get combat boots with novelty foot length.”

      “A butch clown?  I don’t think the lesbians would be jealous of you anymore.”

      “Damn!  This is too complicated.  Maybe you were better prepared to go lesbo than I was.”

      “Heehee.”  She got shy.

      “Hey, you’re thinking about something and not telling me.”  The water was up to a boil so I turned the heat down to seven and poured in the pasta.

      “We both weren’t prepared.  We don’t have a double dildo.”

      I stood up straight in shock, though by then I should have been getting used to the idea of her knowing more about sex, in her own way.  “What.  What do you know about double dildos, girl?”

      “Well, usually lesbians use a double dildo, right?  Like one side goes in my pussy, and, uh...”

      “Best place for me to put my end is the back door.  But I’m sure plenty of lesbians don’t have double dildos.  Where did you hear about that?”

      “I just saw a porno once.  Some ladies used a double dildo.  Guess I thought...”

      “We could use a double dildo, if you want.  Sounds fun.”  I stirred the macaroni, had to bust some apart as they had started to clump in the freshly released flour goo.

      “Heehee.”  She played with her hands.

      “What else do you know about lesbian stuff?”

      “Ya know, I never thought about it, but the pornos I saw are different from the lesbians I see around town.  Like, in the pornos they have pretty hair and makeup, wear skirts and heels and stuff.”

      “Sharp.  That’s right.  Most of those pornos are made for straight dudes.  Might look different if ladies made ’em.”

      “Why don’t ladies make ’em?”

      “I dunno, but I could take a few guesses.  You wanna be like a real life lesbian, like the ones on the streets, or would you rather be a porno lesbian, like in the movies?”

      “We get a choice?”

      “Always.”

      “You are like a porno lesbian.”

      “Guess I made my choice.  How about you?”

      “If I have short hair, I’ll hafta be like a real life lesbian.”

      “Or you could mix it up.  That’s what they call ‘queer’.”

      “So if I have short hair, but I still wear makeup and stuff, I am queer, but if I have short hair and I wear a flannel shirt, I am butch?”

      “That’s close enough to right.”

      “I dunno.  I don’t like to be wrong, to say the wrong thing.  Maybe I won’t talk about this stuff with real life lesbians.”

      “Just porno lesbians like me, right?”

      “Umm, maybe just you.  Not another porno lesbian.”  She considered that.  “Wait, are there porno lesbians in real life, aside from you?”

      “Not a lot of us, and I’m sure most of us wouldn’t want to be called that.  They also say ‘lipstick lesbian’ for ladies that stay lady-like, though most of them are still gonna do things their own funny way.  I kinda like that porno lesbian thing for myself, because I’m not gonna dress like the singer from 4 Non Blondes.”

      “I don’t get that one.  You lost me again.”

      “Hahahaha, you’re in for a treat.  I’m gonna look that up for you when we’re done eating.”  I served up the food.

                                                        ***

   Read next chapter here.

[dancingalone21]

Single - Part 2

Summary: Dean tries to plan a camping trip for his son and the reader doesn’t make it easy for him.

Pairing: Daddy!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,578

Part 1

~

"Dean!" Sam's been pounding on his brother's front door for minutes now but there's been no answer. Which is odd considering his precious Impala is parked right in the driveway.

Sam forgoes being polite and proceeds to barge in using his spare key. He's met with the sound of Metallica's Fade To Black blaring throughout the house.

The younger Winchester peeks into the backyard and he spots his nephew Drew running around. Sam decides to say hi first before tracking down his brother.

"Hey kid!"

"Uncle Sam!" Drew races right over with his large Rottweiler Spike close behind.

"What's with the music, buddy?" Sam wonders scratching Spike behind the ears.

"Dad's stressed out." Drew rolls his eyes making his uncle laugh.

"Over what?"

"Dinner I guess. He told me to play outside."

Sam nods his head in confusion before marching inside towards the loud noise. He enters the kitchen to see his brother looking completely overwhelmed.

"What the hell is going on, man?" Sam questions turning the music down to catch Dean's attention.

"I'm just getting shit ready for dinner. What's the problem?" He scowls, now searching for a big enough bowl for the pasta salad.

"I suspect your weird behavior has something to do with Mikey's mom..."

"Aunt. And no it has nothing to do with Y/N."

"Right." Sam quirks an eyebrow. "So is she hot?"

"Oh my god. So hot." Dean instantly growls realizing that he was just tricked.

"There are plenty of hot people in the world, Sammy." He snaps wanting to wipe away his younger brother's smirk.

"Uh huh."

"Jesus Christ." Dean groans opening the pantry. "Can baked beans be considered a vegetable?"

"Uh no. You want to have a vegetable?"

"Chicks eat vegetables don't they?"

"Yeah. Not always though. Corn on the cob usually goes well with grilled food." Sam replies twisting the cap off of a beer.

"Son of a bitch! I didn't think of that."

"I doubt anyone will care that there's no vegetables. Other than me." Sam jokes but he only gets an obnoxious scoff in response.

"Y/N must be special if you're putting in all of this effort. Especially when it's not a date."

"A date? Yeah right. I don't see that ever happening. There's just...there's something off about her."

"What do you mean?"

"She's completely immune to my charms!" Dean exclaims outraged.

"Holy shit. I never thought I'd see the day." Sam replies with a smile.

"Dude. I called Y/N attractive and she looked at me like I offended her. Then I continued to throw out more adjectives but I got nothing. Like no reaction. What the hell is that?!"

"She sounds like a smart girl."

"I hate you." Dean grumbles as he checks the silverware drawer to make sure it's all clean.

"The woman is feisty. And if she's feisty normally then in the bedroom she..."

"Shut up." Sam interjects, there's no way in hell he wants to get that visual.

"You don't even care if Mikey goes camping do you?"

"Of course I do!"

"Nope. This dinner is happening because of Y/N. You can't stand that a girl you want doesn't like you back."

"Oh please, dude. The girl called me ancient and pointed out my gray hairs." Dean counters sending Sam into a laughing fit.

"I like her already." He gets out ignoring Dean's dirty glare.

"Whatever, asshole." Dean responds chucking a hot dog roll at his brother's head.

"What's for dessert...pie?" Sam asks with amusement.

"Of course."

"I hope you bought something else too. What if Y/N doesn't like pie?"

"Then she will get kicked out of this house. I'm not dealing with that nonsense." Dean declares firmly.

"You're such a catch. I can't believe Y/N isn't interested in you." Sam mocks him.

Dean flips him the bird, refusing to waste any more energy on his little brother. Besides, he has more important shit to worry about. Like that you'll be showing up in no time and he still needs to take a shower and get dressed.

Noticing the time himself, Sam sends both Dean and Drew upstairs to get cleaned up while he takes over in the kitchen. He's not a chef by any means but his wife Jess has taught him a thing or two over the years.

Drew and Spike suddenly come barreling into the kitchen, his nephew then focuses his big green eyes on one of his favorite things. Pie. Apple pie to be exact.

"Uncle Sam...can I please have some?" He asks drooling over the dessert on the high counter.

"You're definitely your father's son." Sam mumbles with a shake of his head.

"Huh?" Drew pulls his attention away for two seconds then settles back on the pie. He does his best to reach for it but Sam pushes it away from his grasp.

"Hey!"

"You can have some after dinner, man. You now the rules. If you're hungry, have a yogurt or something."

"A yogurt?" Drew pouts almost looking disgusted. Yup. Definitely Dean's son.

Sam's about to reply when he hears the doorbell ring. Of course Dean isn't finished getting ready yet, the dumb ass is taking his sweet time.

With a labored sigh, Sam swings open the front door to see a very pretty young woman and a kid around Drew's age.

"Hi. You guys must be Y/N and Mikey. I'm Sam." He greets holding out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Sam." You smile before casting your eyes down to the heavy plate in your hand.

"Oh I brought chocolate chip cookies." You add softly.

"Cool! The Winchesters definitely like cookies. Come on in." Sam chuckles gesturing for you to follow him. 

You and Mikey are barely in the house two seconds before Drew pops into the room to steal his friend away. You glance around the house and you're pleasantly surprised that it's very clean and impressively decorated. Dean is definitely gaining brownie points for this.

"My brother should be down any minute, he just jumped in the shower." Sam explains. "How about a drink?"

"Sure. I'll have a beer if you have it." You respond anxiously, you need to get some alcohol into your system. A strange smirk crosses Sam's face before he leaves and it makes you wonder what he’s thinking.

"Here ya go, Y/N." He strides fast in your direction with his long legs before plopping down onto the leather couch. You join him and curiously watch as he sips his beer.

"What was that?"

"What?" Sam repeats back.

"I don't know. When I asked for a beer, your reaction was weird." You chuckle nervously. Realization hits him and he shoots you a genuine smile.

"You're from Boston." Sam states. "I heard the accent when you said 'beer'. And I can hear it now that you're talking more."

"And that's funny..." You quirk an eyebrow.

"No. It's hilarious. You're gonna eat Dean alive aren't you?" Sam asks looking entertained.

"What the hell are you talking about?" You laugh before chugging down your drink.

"Dean said you didn't react to him like girls usually do. And now I know why. You're not a small town country girl from Kansas. You're a city girl who doesn't take shit especially something like his cocky routine."

"I see." You think back to earlier today and can't help but roll your eyes at the interaction.

"Well Romeo was overconfident at first and then he got kinda...awkward."

"How do I put this." Sam sighs. "My brother usually doesn't have to try with women. A wink and a smile is usually all it takes. So you're like unchartered territory. He doesn't know what the hell to do."

"You seem happy about this." You point out.

"Hell yeah. Don't get me wrong, he's a really good guy but the girls that come easy are clearly not working out for him."

"And you're just assuming that I like him back?" You counter with a crooked smile.

"Don't you?"

"I...I'm not sure. He's obviously cute but we don't know each other. And I've had my share of douchebags so I'm on the cautious side when it comes to dating."

"I hear yeah. I know..."

"Hey Y/N!" Dean swaggers into the living room and holy fuck does he look delicious. His crisp white t-shirt is showing off his muscles perfectly along with his sexy as hell jeans that fit him wonderfully.

"Hey, Dean. Nice of you to join us." You tease with a grin.

"Not everyone is naturally beautiful like you, sweetheart." He answers smoothly with a wink.

Before you can stop it, a giggle leaves your lips and you see Dean's handsome face automatically light up. He's beyond thrilled to get this reaction from you and it shows. You glance at Sam and he has a knowing smile plastered on his face.

"Let's head outside, guys. I can fire up the grill." Dean claps his hands together looking excited. 

You and Sam both move off of the couch but Sam stops you from trailing behind. He quickly checks to make sure Dean is out of earshot before turning to you.

"Hey. Do me a favor." Sam says quietly.

"What?"

"When it's time for dessert, Dean will be bringing out an apple pie. When he offers it to you, tell him that you don't like it."

"But I do like pie." You raise your eyebrows confused.

"I just want to test something. Please?" The tall bastard uses some sort of trickery with huge puppy dog eyes and it makes you give in.

"I guess. Are you sure?"

"Trust me." Sam replies with a devilish grin.

Part 3

~

[elasianstar]

R #10 KICKING ASS

“You know good and well i can hold my own in a battle Leo!”

The eldest brother stood his ground, arms crossed across his chest as he stared unblinking down at me, Trying to intimidate me. I could practically feel my plume and feathers puffing as i bristled under his gaze.

“Really  leo? You know good and damn well she can kick your ass. Pull the stick outta your tail and just let her come on one fucking patrol!”

“I thought you were the twin Don…”

The snickering from the younger two caught my attention and i realized just how closely Raph and i were mirroring each other, even our aggressive body language was similar. But that didn't change the fact that i was still pissed off at the blue clad brother. I had been asking to go on patrol with them for a month and every time he would just throw a harsh no in my face before running off. Never giving me a chance to plead my case. I know it had caused a few fights between the eldest brothers but Leo was immovable once he had made a decision.

Smoothing my plume down and shaking out my wings i put on a calm mask, even managing a small smile, grin and bear it, thats how you move on.

“Fine i recognize you have made your concrete decision Leonardo.”

Spinning on my heel i moved to march my happy little ass to my room. But not before stopping to pat Raph’s bicep, my expression telling him to try and let it go, just wait…

Raphael’s POV

“What the everloving fuck. This is the third time Leo. When are we going to actually get to smash some heads!”

The last two robberies on the police scanner had been hit before we could even get there. We found the thugs already thoroughly beaten and hanging from the street light in both cases. This time though the criminals hadn't been so neatly packed, They were strewn across the floor of the jewelry shop they had been ransacking. There were a few bullet holes in the wall high up as if the hero had attacked from above or the thief responsible had been knocked to the ground before firing.

“You think it was spidey?”

“No Mikey he and Deadpool are in charge of the South side. They wouldn't interfere on our turf.”

Don’s scanner damn near blinded me and i shoved him away by the face, bout the only place i could touch without possibly breaking some techie shit.

“Plus I'm not getting any traces of the nylon-carbon nanotubule solution his webs are made of.”

“Daredevil then?”

couldn't help but huff at his wild accusations.

“No that lowball super micrromanages the Irish quarter. We wouldn't be crossing over with him here.”

“It doesn't matter who got them, the cops are on their way. We need to roll out.”

...

We watched the cops haul them off from a nearby rooftop.

“This is the fifth bust Joe, the tartaruga brothers are really on their toes tonight.”

“Nah Griffin, this ain't them. No, their calling card is different, they use that little squiggle symbol thing. This guy isn't leaving a sign. Gotta be new.”

“Guys! Not even the cops know what's going on, there might be a new hero in the area!”

Mikey looked so frickin excited I half expected him to bounce off to find this new mystery vigilante. Though that might not be such a bad idea, scope them out and everythin, even the other supers tended to get a bit...antsy, around freaks like us.

the static on don’s scanner was interrupted by voices and police code, he checked his holographic map a red dot popping up a few blocks from here.

“Hey Leo we got another hit, it's close. Providence and Christopher, gang activity in the old shirtwaist factory.”

“Maybe we’ll actually get to do somethin this time.”

The look fearless shot me was perfect, I was getting under his shell in all the right ways. I could practically see him steamin as we took off across the rooftops, pouring on the speed, he was going to get there first this time if it killed him.

…

When the vent popped open in the factory and we looked down everything looked fine, no gunshot holes in the wall, no tied up criminals. Looks like we got here first this time.

“We got a tag, unknown heartbeat twelve o’clock. Looks like our new buddy just got here too.”

There was a motion in the shadows of the steel girders above the gangster operation, a smooth sweeping that melted into the darkness. Something small and thin. A low humming sound started to echo through the factory, followed by a high pitched whistle that scattered the sound, making it impossible to tell the location of it's source. The gang members scrambled to find the intruders, guns pointed into the shadows as they broke guard and rank. It was the perfect moment to attack but Leo signaled us to hold back.

Apparently our little friend thought so too.

It moved down the wall like a spider, keeping an impossible grip to the imperfections in the old brick walls and industrial piping. Thin pale limbs stretching from the black shadows of the body to grab the next hold as it slunk down behind the oblivious goons. From there it slid underneath the large industrial vats filled with laundered cash and waited. The gang members were becoming more and more scattered as the piercing whistle bounced around the warehouse.

When one got to close it sprung, grabbing them by the legs and slamming their head against the ground before dragging them into its cover. It did this four or five times before moving to a new spot and repeating the process. Never once did it make itself visible, moving through shadow like an animal. It stalked them like a predator, and they were on the menu.

The remaining gang members, there must have been maybe six by now, were starting to get paranoid. A few poc shots ricocheted off of cast iron and brick, cautious of the shadows. The creatures trick wouldn't work this time.

The humming and whistling stopped and the warehouse fell silent except for the heavy breaths of the survivors. Gun barrels whipped around the room, eyes wide and searching in the low light.

A laugh exploded through the silence, an animalistic sound laced with insanity. The surviving gang members cowered as the shadows grew and took shape on the far wall. Long, spidery grasping arms, a heavy form with curling horns and a thrashing tail,  long jaws filled with dripping teeth. A torrent of gunfire burst toward the form and the creator of the shadow used the sound and the sparking of the shots as cover to attack.

In the flashing of gunfire I was only able to make out pieces of action. Pale skin as strong slender arms wrapped around a throat and squeezed. Sweeps of shadow accompanied by the thud and squish of fists hitting flesh. The spark of steel as it sliced shallowly to incapacitate someone much bigger than them.

Glowing gold eyes.

The attack was swift and the attacker soundless, leaving the gang members strewn in bruised and bloody heaps. Those golden eyes shot to the ceiling from the shadows toward our position and in a second they were gone again. Melding into the night as if they were made of darkness, disappearing.

“Holy shit, what was that thing! It didn't just take them down, it was like it was hunting them!”

“I’m not sure I didn't get a good look, Donnie did your feed catch anything?”

“No, but scans show that a few of the gang members are down a few cups of blood. Other than that they're relatively unharmed”

“We have to try and catch up with them, come on!!!”

“according to the scanners the police are already en-route. These guys aren't going anywhere any time soon.”

“Come on then! Let's go try and catch them!”

Mikey took off, swinging up through the steel girders and scrambling back through the vents before anyone could snag him. This was definitely going to be interesting to say the least.

“Keep on his tail but stay vigilant, weapons at the ready.”

With a swift nod I followed Don into the vents, keeping guard at the rear in case that thing decided to come out of the shadows again. I was cautious, but something was telling me we had nothing to fear. I didn't trust it, my hand on my sai anyway.

Back on the roof Mikey was anxiously scanning the skyline for any sign of the new vigilante. A shifting shadow, a sound, anything that would give away their position.

“Aww come on! They couldn't have gotten far! Donnie, are you getting anything on the scanners? Maybe we can find them at the next bust.”

“No Mikey the sun is going to be up in under an hour, we’re going back. Maybe next time.”

The sound of shifting stone caught our attention. In a small patch of shadow behind the air conditioning units, three o’clock. My sai clutched tightly in my hands I prepared for a fight, my brother’s shells at my back as we watched the shadows. Something small was crouched there, it was completely hidden in the darkness, but I could feel it move as it breathed. My barbels were pricking slightly under my chin with each silent breath.

“Dude we aren't gonna hurt you, we just wanna talk. You're super stealthy bro, you gotta show us some moves!”

The shape grew, back pulsing with each breath as claws scraped across the loose stone of the tar roof. A low growling from the creature had our formation tightening.

Except that wasn't growling, this thing was churring, or trying too. Gold eyes flashed too low on the creature to be anatomically correct.

“Come on babe, it isn't funny anymore, time to show yerself.”

The shadow seemed to disappear, but only if you thought that what you were looking at was really that big. The sharp snap of the steel heels of her boots was the only sound as she revealed herself, Gold eyes burning like stars until the light touched the edge of her face. Her head was thrown back in pride, eyes never leaving Leo as that smug grin showed off her fangs. she was preening, and he knew it.

“Really Red, I had a jumpscare planned and everything. Party pooper…”

“Gonna take more than that to get past me babe, I knew it was you as soon as I saw those eyes of yours.”

The grin on her face seemed to literally twinkle, her eyes shifting from green to gold as she blinked, getting as up in Leo's face as she could at 5′4″.

“Can't handle myself huh? Have to protect me huh? Who just took down several armed assailants single handedly?”

“Yeah totally jazzycakes! You were a living shadow, you might not be a ninja but you got skillz gurl! High three… high three...total props.”

Leo’s glare had Mikey drawing back into formation eyes on the floor and fists balled.

“Though you showed promise my decision still stands.”

Elasia mimed polishing her talons leaning against the air conditioning unit as if she were bored.

“And I acknowledge your decision, but due to the fact that it was a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it.”

She flicked something across the roof and turned to look old fearless in the eye. I felt a little proud, she was under half his mass and she still stared him down like she could knock his dick in the dirt. Her whole body was coiled and her plume was puffing with her breath, feisty little viper.

“ I'm not one of your soldiers Leonardo. I'll help even if I have to tag along from afar. I'm sick of waiting around while you guys protect the city! Every night I cook and clean and doctor out of the goodness of my heart while I sit in the lair wondering if you four will even come home, I'm sick of it!”

The sound of her talons scraping against his plastron was the only noise as she shoved him. Her calm and arrogant mask had near completely fell as she forced herself to speak that last statement out loud.

“You four put yourselves at risk every night and expect me to just sit back and be fucking fine with it? Well guess what Leo, I might be bonded with Raphael but you guys are my family too. If any of you are gonna die I'm gonna be right there too whether you like it or not! I just found you guys, i’m not waiting a whole lifetime to see you again if you do something stupid. So you can say I'm not going on patrol as much as you want but as long as I'm in New York I'm going to watch your backs!”

Her eyes just stared up at him in silence, brimming with tears from her emotional supernova. Leo wasn't moving on this.

“Elasia, maybe there is something else you could do, I could always use help designing gadgetry. That has saved our shells on numerous occasions.”

“Yeah, that and you're always helping us hone our skills! Look I can already make whirlwinds!”

A loose wrapper blew in a few circles around mikey's feet before rolling away on an actual breeze. A hint of happiness and pride sparked across her face but Leo froze it over again.

“The sun is rising, let's go team.”

Leo leapt from the building without looking back, Mikey and Don were right on his tail but they kept glancing back, apologetic looks on their faces. God Leo needed his face pounded into the concrete. Elasia just watched them go, her face taking back it's usual mask.

“Babe…”

“Red don't… I just, don't want to hear it right now.”

Her eyes were on the brightening sky, her shoulders slumped in defeat as she chewed her lips. I could tell her mind was racing into places she didn't want it to go. But I also knew talking about it would only make her “mental train keep going down that track.” Her words not mine.

Instead I put my hand on her hip, pulling her close until her wings brushed my chest. Her wings were so freaking soft I wanted to bury myself in them and just hibernate for a month, but I also knew they were delicate and didn't want to damage the feathers. or invite her to make me spend another several hours helping her preen like after Mikey and I got her with the whipped cream bomb. It was 100% meant for Donnie I swear…

After a while of just holdin her she began to rock gently back and forth, dancing to a song I couldn't hear as I swayed with her. I couldn't help but nuzzle my face into her spiky hair, her feint flowery scent mixed with sweat dust and blood. I remembered watching the attack in the factory and seeing the aftermath of every battle I hadn't seen and something in me swelled with pride. My girl, beautiful and deadly as hell.

“So proud of you babygirl, you kicked some serious ass tonight.”

I felt her laugh more than I heard it. She looked up at me and I felt those soft lips on the underside of my chin.

“Did you ever doubt I could?”

I held her a bit closer as she wiggled deeper into my arms.

“Never, just wish I'd been there to see all of it, to help you out.”

“Babe nothin taking me down short of a direct shot to the head, and that ain't gonna…. Well shit.”

She stilled against me and her hands flew up to smack against her forehead. Common body language when she believed she'd made a fool or ass out of herself.

“What's wrong?”

“It was never about me.”

The questioning sound was caught in my throat when she pushed off of me in favor of frantically pacing the roof. Her hands were carding through her hair as her gaze shifted from the ground to the lightening sky and back.

“It was never really about whether I was good enough or about protecting me! Leo knows I can handle myself in battle, he never denied that. This was about you!!”

The way she looked at me was like she had just solved the world's hardest puzzle. And I was a bit confused, but that isn't uncommon around her, or Don.

“Yeah I can handle myself, even if I am hurt my soul energy will patch up any injury to my vessel pretty quickly. What Leo was so worried about was you Raph. He's afraid that should worse come to worst you would drop your guard to get to me, to protect me. He knows how to use your protective instinct amongst the four of you but I'm a variable.”

Her hands were gesturing through the air like crazy and she was talking pretty fast but I think I heard most of that.

“I think he fears that you would feel more compelled to protect me than your brothers! But that's ridiculous, if I needed protecting I wouldn't be so adamant about helping. And if worse came to worst… there's always the next time around. Death doesn't mean the same thing to an elemental, yeah it's painful and it sucks and the first few years of the next life are always awkward. But it isn't the end, there's no need to get all bent out of shape about one round ending a little earlier than expected!”

The look on my face stopped her, I couldn't breath all of a sudden… her head cocked to the side like a confused puppy before her eyes widened in realization.

“But you would wouldn't you. If I were to fall you'd break for me…”

“Mother moon why am I so stupid! You and your brothers, you're elementals but you haven't had a rekindling yet. Your minds are still hardwired to relate death to the endgame. No matter how things would really work you would see me as gone if I fell, you would still feel compelled to mourn me as if I were gone forever…”

Her arms were around my neck in an instant, gentle cooing sounds breaking me out of suspension as her hands smoothed over my neck and scalp. Was it dusty out here?

“How could I be so blind?”

“yer Stubborn and emotional babe. I get it.”

There was that silent laugh again.

“Yeah I guess we aren't that different. But Raphael…?”

ok this was serious… she almost never uses my full name anymore.

“Hm?”

Her grip on my tightened and she borrowed her face into the crook of my neck.

“If something, theoretically, did happen...You promise me you won't mourn too hard will ya? I mean we'll always see each other again.”

I didn't respond at first, looking down at the triangular mark on my wrist, this strange new energy that's taken hold in my brothers’ and my life. This new world that opened to us thanks to her. I still didn't understand most of it.

“I don't know if I can promise that Myojo, but I’ll try.”

I felt her nod against my neck before she let me go. Her eyes were on the sun as it sat on the edge of the skyline, my finger grasped tightly in her small pale hand.

“I guess that will have to do. Come on Red, the sun is almost up and I owe Leo an apology.”