#mr. missed the wide open net will carry us the rest of the way

[stromer]

fuck it. put the EBUG in

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (9/18)

Chapter 9: Do Everything Before You Die

A bittersweet reunion occurs between the group at New England Medical Center, where a life still hangs in the balance. After recapping the previous night’s events, Madelyn is sent home under Deacon’s careful watch. In the quiet of her apartment, the two share a tender moment, until a phone call from Piper shatters the silence.

“I have a theory that you should do everything before you die.” - Bruno Antony as played by Robert Walker (Strangers on a Train, 1951)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

April 13th, 1958

Madelyn knew two facts about the New England Medical Center—that Jennifer Lands was employed as a registered nurse in the emergency department, and that according to an article in Massachusetts Surgical Journal, the hospital was recently responsible for coining the term ‘immunosuppression’. As she sat in the small waiting area just beside the nurse’s station, she wondered if ‘faulty fluorescent lighting’ should be added to the list, watching as the bulb above her head flickered ominously. The concept of time had been lost to her since she’d arrived, her body and mind on autopilot as it responded to the doctors and staff when necessary.

Hospitals always felt like stepping into a different reality. Deacon had once gone on a tangent about the psychology of liminal spaces—how they were transformative spaces, waiting areas between one point in time and the next—like a threshold between two worlds. Madelyn had compared it to a sermon she’d heard in Catholic school about sacred places, where Jacob dreamt of encountering God between heaven and earth and was imparted with holy knowledge. Their conversation ended with joking that maybe all hospitals were just purgatory in disguise.

With Nick’s life hanging in the balance, it was an unsettling thought.

All she could do after being cleared by a physician was wait in the emergency bay, grateful that the nurses were sympathetic enough to allow her to stay until someone she trusted came to pick her up. Despite being wounded, Eddie Winter’s whereabouts were unknown, and as long as he roamed the streets, nowhere in Boston was truly safe. Still, Madelyn found a small comfort in the sterile atmosphere of the hospital, finding shapes in the speckled pattern of the tiled floor to pass the time.

Piper was the first to arrive, bursting through the double doors with a loud demand that could only be expected of the reporter. She ignored the nurses that tried to stop her from proceeding, rushing over to the line of visitor chairs. Her frenzied expression was exaggerated by the visible lack of sleep and Madelyn wondered if she had been in the middle of an all-nighter when she received the news.

“Blue!” she carelessly tossed her red coat, half of her belongings spilling out of her satchel onto the empty chair. Her hands flew up in alarm, snapping to cover her mouth as she reacted to her friend’s injured state. “Holy shit, Blue, what the hell happened?”

Before she could respond, Piper continued, dark eyes blown wide. “Where’s Nick?”

Madelyn gestured towards a room in which she hadn’t been allowed. “We were separated as soon as we arrived. He’s—”

The emergency room doors swung open again and two more bodies came rushing through. This time the nurses were less inclined to stop the disruption once they saw it was one of their own, the realization washing over as confusion shifted into sympathy. Jennifer Lands paid them no attention as she ran as fast as her heels would allow her to the small waiting area, determination etched into her features. For a split second, Madelyn was worried Jenny was going to slap her for getting Nick in harm’s way—as close as their friendship was, her fiery spirit made her unpredictable at times. Instead, Jenny grabbed her by the wrists and hauled her from the chair into a crushing hug.

“Mads,” she spoke quietly. “Thank God you��re alive.”

Madelyn’s reaction was delayed, not anticipating the kind of reaction from Nick’s fiancé. Even though Jenny was a trained medical professional, she didn’t expect her to be so level-headed or strong. A small part of her was envious, but she squashed the feelings immediately—it wasn’t fair to Jenny when the love of her life came so close to death. She hugged her friend tightly, and the weight of her words came crashing down around her. She was alive and Nick—he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Madelyn pulled away with a sharp inhale, still holding onto Jenny’s arm as she reached up to wipe at the tears that were already threatening to spill over.

“Oh honey,” the redhead smoothed both of her hands across Madelyn’s face and hair. “None of that. You saved my Nicky’s life, you shouldn’t be crying.”

“I hardly saved him,” she protested. “Enabled him, is more like it. Followed him into the belly of the beast and—”

“What’s done is done,” Jenny spoke, a sharpness to her tone that had Madelyn falling silent. Perhaps Nick’s fiancé was handling her grief in different, more silent ways. “I wanted to tell you that Mr. Bogart did a wonderful job at keeping me safe.”

Behind Jenny, Deacon kept his distance from the three women, though it was evident from his expression that he was just as worried, if not as visibly panicked, as Piper. Madelyn was relieved to see him—more than she thought was possible—and resisted the urge to rush to his side in some kind of romantic reunion. If anybody needed to have a reunion right now, it was Jenny and Nick, and he wasn’t conscious to appreciate it.

“You should’ve stayed at the Railroad safehouse,” she complained. “We have no idea where Eddie Winter or his men have run off to, so we need to stick to the safety net—”

“My place is at Nick’s side,” Jenny interjected, sidestepping to take a seat, prompting Piper to do the same. With a long exhale, Madelyn followed, and Deacon copied, sitting in the chair opposite of her. The detective’s fiancé continued. “Tell us what happened tonight.”

Madelyn considered a condensed version of events, but Jenny resisted, prying her for more information as she outlined the operation that led to the break-in to Joe’s Spuckies Sandwich Shop. Upon her insistence, she outlined every gruesome detail—from their restraints to Marty’s death, to Eddie’s taunting set to Bobby Darrin’s Mack the Knife. She didn’t stop, even when it came time to explain how Nick was shot—the shoulder wound had torn an artery, and the bullet in his chest had ripped through his liver, missing his heart by a few centimeters. Her hands began to tremble when she recalled Winter’s attack on her, the grip of his hands around her throat so tight she thought she was going to die.

“How’d you get out?” Deacon stopped her short, realizing she was struggling.  

Madelyn found her voice. “I shot Winter. He got away,” she said simply. “I had to get Nick to safety so…I took a risk and called the last person we might be able to trust in the Boston P.D.”

Piper leaned forward, shellshocked. “You called the cops?”

Jenny hushed her, allowing Madelyn to continue. Deacon looked equally skeptical, but she quieted his suspicions with a name.

“Sergeant Sullivan. He was mentioned in Skinny Malone’s book as being clean,” Madelyn blinked hard. “I gave him specific instructions and he brought a skeleton crew to clear the scene and escort Nick and I here. He gave me his word as an Irishman, a Catholic, and a Bostonian that he’d follow the case to the letter.”

“Well that middle one doesn’t do me well,” Jenny mumbled, before nodding. “Sounds like the boy doesn’t have an ounce of corruption in his bones.”

“Blue, are you sure about this?” Piper asked, ever the skeptic.

Madelyn shook her head, twisting her hands in her lap. “No. We shouldn’t trust anyone,” she shared a brief, knowing look with Deacon. “But Sullivan is our last shot at making sure Eddie Winter is captured. His reign of terror ends tonight.”

The group exchanged silent glances, confirming that while it wasn’t their first choice, it was now their only choice. Jenny glanced down the corridor where she saw an attending doctor standing outside Nick’s room.

“Mads, you’re an angel,” she sighed. “You’ve done more than enough tonight. Please, let Deacon take you home.”

Piper resisted the urge to make a snide comment, jaw set as she watched Madelyn reluctantly stand to gather her belongings. Jenny was right—there was little more she could do by staying at the hospital, and she was just about to fall over from exhaustion. With her Railroad partner at her side, the sound of her apartment sounded like heaven. Jenny pulled her into another hug and passed her off to Piper so she could say her farewells to Deacon as well. Madelyn swore she could hear the redhead mumbling something to him that made him stifle a laugh but couldn’t catch the words.

“You’ll visit tomorrow?” the reporter asked, pulling away to inspect Madelyn’s expression.

She nodded, stepping to stand next to Deacon as he offered her his hand. It felt like a lifetime since she last held it, a spark igniting up her arm and to her brain. Madelyn almost forgot to answer Piper. “Yes.”

She gave one last glance over her shoulder to her friends as they neared the exit.

Jenny smiled, waving in return. “Stay safe you two, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

It felt like weeks rather than a few days since Madelyn had last been at her apartment, running back and forth between the agency and Railroad headquarters before setting off with Nick downtown chasing after Eddie Winter. She climbed the stairwell in exhaustion, dragging her aching feet behind her and cursing the landlord for once again falling through on his promise to fix the elevator. Deacon quietly followed behind, and she knew if the circumstances were different he might have offered a clever quip about carrying her the rest of the way—she almost asked him to. Instead, on the fourth floor landing she balanced herself on his shoulder and discarded her heels, carrying them in one hand the rest of the way up. She still didn’t know what time it was, but the sun hadn’t risen yet, so she quietly wriggled her key into the lock of her apartment door before noticing that her partner wasn’t beside her. When she turned to spot him he was crouched in front of Drummer Boy’s door, sliding a small envelope beneath the crack.

“Recap of recent events,” he explained, standing to join her as she opened the door for them both. “So HQ knows where we are.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold of her apartment, a flash of silver met her peripheral in the darkness and she flinched back into Deacon’s chest.

“As I live and breathe!”

Codsworth’s alarmed voice echoed through the room as he cornered them in the tiny entranceway. Madelyn felt foolish for thinking the metal robot was something, or somebody other than her friendly—perhaps too friendly—Mister Handy. Dogmeat came running from the hallway, balancing on his hind legs so his front paws could press against the top of her thighs as he sniffed at her coat and dress, still covered in splotches of Nick and Eddie Winter’s blood. The shepherd barked, sniffing her more frantically before barking again, dropping to the ground so he could pace around her in a tight, anxious circle. Deacon closed the door so the sounds wouldn’t wake the neighbors. The dog’s actions made Codsworth inspect her with a zoomed in eye.

“Oh heavens, Miss Madelyn, have you been injured?” he asked, hovering close. She suddenly felt very crowded between her robot butler, Deacon and worried dog whimpering at her feet. “Should I phone for a doctor?”

Madelyn shook her head, raising her hands to try to create a buffer between them. She sidestepped towards the back of the couch, reaching to turn on the small living room lamp. “That won’t be necessary.”

The light only worsened Codsworth reaction, three arms spinning wildly. “Mistress, your neck!” He advanced again and conveyed as much concern as a robot could. “There’s bruises all over your lovely neck, mum!”

Instinctively, she turned away, covering her skin with her hand. She flicked her gaze to Deacon, but the subtlety in her movements made the Mister Handy unit gutsier. He turned his three-eyes to the man and tilted closer, nearly backing him against the door. “Was Mr. Deacon responsible for this heinous act?”

Understandably, Deacon looked horrified at the accusation, shaking his head in protest as Dogmeat barked at his ankles.

“Oh for God’s sake, no!” Madelyn reprimanded the two, wincing at the pain in her throat as she spoke. “Codsworth honey, I love you, but I don’t have time for this tonight,” she rushed through the apology, circling his metal frame to press at his shutdown button. “Passcode ice-cream.”

The Mister Handy unit crumpled to the floor in a dramatic crumple, causing Dogmeat to turn his attention away from Deacon momentarily to smell at the pile of robotic limbs. He let out a low whine at Madelyn, who only sighed in frustration—that was the last thing she wanted to do—but she could reactivate him and deal with the guilt in the morning. Codsworth, fortunately, wouldn’t remember a thing. She rubbed at her temple, leaning against the sofa for support as the fatigue and swirl of emotions from the last few days fell upon her. Deacon steadily approached, hands hovering over her shoulders as he dipped his head so he could see her eyes. He didn’t move to touch her, and she wondered if he was afraid to do so in front of the dog—like the shepherd would tear him to shreds if he made one wrong move.  

“Ice cream?” he questioned with a smirk but didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I’ll take care of Snoopy here,” he joked, glancing over his shoulder to look at Dogmeat who was still investigating Codsworth’s still framework. “Just take care of yourself, Charmer.”

With a weak nod, she slipped away, lurking in the hallway for a moment to overhear Dogmeat softly barking at Deacon, and his voice echoing back through the apartment.  

“I’ve had worse conversations with inanimate objects.”

As practical and wonderful as a soak in the bathtub sounded, Madelyn feared she’d fall asleep and drown. Not exactly the way she wanted to go out—especially considering she was not alone in her apartment—now was not the time to be naked and vulnerable. She opted for her bedroom instead, tossing her purse and coat in the general direction of her closet before turning on the bedside lamp. She was just about ready to collapse face-first into her duvet when she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror, puling a double-take when she didn’t recognize the reflection staring back. Hesitantly, she stepped closer, all the breath escaping from her lungs at what she saw.

Blood—dried red on her dress and stockings, faded smears on her hands despite the hospital visit—all reminiscent of a cold winter’s night in Boston Common two Christmases ago. Madelyn still had those ruined clothes, stained with Nate’s blood, tucked away in her closet like a morbid memento of the past. History wanted to repeat itself, it seemed, mirroring itself on another blue, A-line dress. She traced the outline with one finger, unsure where Nick’s blood ended and where Eddie Winter’s began—it didn’t matter—both men’s fate were unknown, and she only had herself to blame. Madelyn couldn’t have another death on her conscious.

The guilt overwhelmed her as she tore the dress and stockings from her body, adding it to the pile of earlier discarded items. She changed into a new set of underwear, slipping into a nightgown before securing a robe around her body for warmth. Her knees practically gave out as she collapsed onto her vanity bench, facing away from the mirror so she wouldn’t have to meet her reflection again. When she looked down, she noticed more blood coated over the silver band of her wedding ring, caught in the crevices of the diamond so the shine was dulled. Madelyn quickly removed the ring from her finger, twisting to place it in the jewelry dish on the counter. Her hand felt naked without it, but she couldn’t bear the sight of Nate’s gift to her tainted in such a way.

The tears came without warning and Madelyn succumbed to them with little resistance, unable to fight back with her mind any longer. She sobbed, covering her face with both hands to dull the sounds as the cries ripped through her chest—the sorrow went deeper than the previous night’s incidents. All at once the emotions she had been suppressing from the last two years spilled over in all their glory, threatening to shatter her in two. The remorse over Nate’s death and never solving his murder, High Rise and Henry—even Marty Bulfinch’s deaths weighed heavily on her mind as she wept, fearing she’d be adding another name to the list to mourn. It was much more than survivor’s guilt clawing at her soul. In some twisted sense, she wondered if the universe was dealing out karma for daring to move on from Nate so quickly. Maybe her conflicted emotions towards Deacon made the cosmic punishment against her worse. But then why had Nick been injured instead of her? Jenny didn’t deserve this kind of pain when the two were so in love and full of bliss. Madelyn deserved all the anguish, all the trauma.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, slumped over her vanity and crying into her folded arms when the hallway floorboards creaked, causing her to hold her breath.

“Decent?” Deacon’s voice quietly called out as her bedroom door creaked open. “I brought you some coffee—just the way you like it—and some whiskey, just in case—”

The words died on his tongue when he realized he’d intruded on her private outburst of emotions. She peeked through a small gap in her hair to find him frozen in the doorway, unsure on how to proceed. He balanced a small tray of drinks in his hand, the other gripped tight around the doorknob. Madelyn had cried in front of him before—that night in the agency after the explosion at Ticonderoga and at the hospital—but comparatively her outburst was tame. This was different. These were the tears of a broken woman who very likely couldn’t be put back together again. Maybe it was best Deacon be scared away now rather than later—at least he could reactivate Codsworth on his way out, right? She slowly sat up, sniffling as she frantically wiped at her cheeks and eyes.

“God, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t,” he said, stopping her short. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”  

Surprisingly (or maybe not) he didn’t retreat, crossing over to where she was, placing the tray down before sitting on the bench beside her. Madelyn opened her mouth to speak, but Deacon shook his head, adjusting so he could delicately wrap an arm around her waist.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he hushed, coaxing her to rest her head against his shoulder.

For a long while she stayed nestled there, wrapped in his loose embrace as the last of her tears fell away. Eventually, her breathing evened out and she focused on the steady pulse of his heartbeat echoing in her ear and how warm his arms were around her body—how safe she felt. Her conscience clawed at her, reminding her not to get swept up in whatever romantic feelings she held for the man—it would only lead to disaster and heartbreak.

“I’m going to start crying again if we stay this quiet,” she mumbled.

Deacon softly laughed, his hand running calming patterns along her back. “The sweater is very absorbent.”

Madelyn gradually pulled away, offering a small smile to match his smirk, unable to think of anything clever to say.

“Codsworth was right,” he broke the silence, frowning as he gestured to her neck.

Her eyes snapped towards the mirror and she hissed—she’d been so distracted by all the blood, she’d forgotten about the present Eddie Winter had left on her skin. The attending physician had informed her there would be no lasting damage, just some bruising and tenderness for a few weeks, and that it looked worse than it was. Of course, Madelyn wasn’t prepared for how bad—the blotches of purple and black a stark contrast to her light skin. She reached to hide the worst spots from view.

“I’ve never looked good in a scarf,” she tried to joke.

Deacon’s hand gently pushed hers aside, fingers delicately ghosting over the marks. His brows furrowed, lips pressed in a straight line as he outlined the shapes and imprints, breath shaky when he finally released the one he’d been holding. His touch lingered, combing back her blonde hair before settling against her shoulder in a soft caress.

“You shot him?” he questioned, and Madelyn nodded.

“I shot him,” she clarified, but she was filled with regret. “I couldn’t kill him. He mocked me for it.”

Deacon shook his head. “You’re not a killer,” he said. “You’re not a coward like some people are. Like he is.”

She had her doubts. “He’s still free,” she lamented.

“Only a matter of time before he fucks up and backs himself into a corner,” he offered, moving to grasp her hand. “We’ll smoke him out.”

Deacon ran his thumb across her knuckles, pausing when he noticed the absence of her ring. He didn’t say anything, rubbing over the divot of skin where the band had laid for twelve years. Her heart raced, unsure of the intimacy being created.

“It was covered in blood,” she explained, barely able to find her voice.

He remained silent, just nodding in response. There was a subtle shift in his mood and expression, but she couldn’t place it, made worse by his ever-present sunglasses. She stared at him, trying her best to visualize the steely-blue color she’d glimpsed in February—but it had only been a second in the dark—for all she knew, her mind was playing tricks. Ever since then, Madelyn had waited for another opportunity to sneak a peek, but one never came. Those eyes were as elusive as Eddie Winter—perhaps just as deadly—if she ever got an extended look.

“Tell me what you want,” Deacon prompted, cutting through the quiet with words that sounded more erotic than he likely meant. Madelyn wondered if that was his intention.

She gently removed her hand from his grasp, lifting both so her fingers brushed along the sharp corner of his darkened frames. “I want to see your eyes”

Madelyn expected resistance, but he only nodded, allowing her to carefully remove the glasses from his face. She set them down on her vanity, focusing on what they’d been hiding all this time. She thought perhaps she’d want to kiss him too, but instead she just stared—blue eyes on blue—inspecting every last detail she’d missed from before. The hint of crows’ feet, a speckle of grey in the iris, a dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Deacon wasn’t just handsome, he was beautiful, and it was like seeing him for the first time.

“Will you stay with me?” she blurted, heat rushing to her cheeks when she thought of how promiscuous it sounded. Instead of fumbling over what she meant, she remained silent, hoping he’d understand as she continued to gaze at him.

“What will the neighbors think?” he teased, grasping her hands again in a chuckle.

Madelyn thought about responding with a joke of her own about how Drummer Boy already thought of them as a couple in the midst of a wild love affair, but held her tongue, opting to bask in the tender moment created. When the night began, she didn’t think she’d end up in his embrace, their eyes locked. Deacon eventually encouraged her to rest her head against his shoulder again, wrapping her up in his arms as he held her close to his chest, one hand sweeping along her back. It was the calmest she’d felt in recent memory.

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

When Madelyn awoke several hours later, she was tucked under the blankets of her mattress and the sun was filtering though the curtains of her window. The memories of the last several days flooded back in an instant, but the expected gloom was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of calm and warmth. There was another body on the bed, and it didn’t take a detective to figure out who it could be. She slowly rolled onto her back, turning her head to find Deacon was already awake, body stretched out atop the covers as he faced her. His glasses were still on her vanity, but he’d also shed his black wig and Madelyn was awestruck at what the gesture signified. She doubted there were many people who had seen him in such a way, with the sunlight shimmering across his light-red hair, sleepy blue eyes twinkling as he smiled at her.

“Mornin’.”

She mimicked his expression, and felt warmth radiate from her cheeks to her toes. “You stayed?”

“Of course,” he answered, like it was the only answer in the world. A stretch of silence passed between them in which she shifted onto her side to face him. “Wonder what time it is.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, too preoccupied with memorizing the shape of his face, the color of his eyes in the morning light and the reddish-brown stubble that was more pronounced after days of not shaving. The desire to kiss him was stronger than it ever had been before as her eyes drifted across his lips, recalling every close-call they had shared in recent months. “Deacon…”

Madelyn had barely whispered his name when his hand reached across the small distance to cup the side of her face, thumb sweeping over her cheek as he shifted closer. She resisted from sliding her eyes shut, fixated on his burning, focused gaze as he angled her chin up, lips so close she could feel the heat of his every breath. He dipped closer and then away—she caught his last-minute hesitation and stilled, staring at him in silent disbelief. Despite visibly lowering his guard, emotionally, he wasn’t ready. Deacon’s expression shifted into one of shame and Madelyn had to wonder why—why couldn’t he kiss her? Insecurities and doubt began to flood her mind as she questioned every little touch, flirtation and perceived moment that had led up to now. She’d foolishly believed that maybe, he held the same romantic feelings towards her, despite their working partnership. Had she been wrong about him that entire time?

Before either could say a word, her phone began to ring, echoing down the hall from the kitchen. At first, she planned to ignore it, thinking Codsworth would handle the interruption before remembering he was a deactivated pile of metal in the living room. Just another thing to be guilty about. As the phone continued to ring, Madelyn snapped her eyes closed and shook her head in an effort to bring herself to reality.

“I should answer that,” she explained, already shifting to remove herself from the bed.

Deacon sighed, running a hand through his hair, and made to follow. “M—Charmer, wait—”

In her hurry, she hadn’t caught his near-slip. The phone rang the entire time she rushed down the hallway to the small nook, shooing away Dogmeat who was attempting to knock the offending noise down from the cranny. Whoever was calling was persistent, having not given up after so many rings. She answered, pausing to gather her bearings.

“Good morning,” she greeted, before swiveling to check the time on the wall—incorrect, it was well past noon. The caller didn’t care, however, as they immediately began spouting off incoherent information. It wasn’t until the connection cleared that she realized it was her friend on the other end. “Piper? Is that you?”

Deacon emerged from the bedroom and cautiously approached. Immediately, Madelyn’s heart was in her throat. “Is it Nick? Did something happen? We can be at the hospital in ten minutes.”

“No,” Piper interrupted with a heavy sigh, tone doing nothing to strengthen Madelyn’s confidence. “Nick is…Nick is fine. Same as before,” she explained, but her voice was shaky, and it was terrifying to experience. “I don’t know how to say it Blue, so I’m just gonna—damnit,” Piper sucked in a breath and Madelyn realized the woman had been crying. “Winter’s men ambushed the hospital.”

As soon as Piper spoke, the world around Madelyn slowed to a grinding halt, and she felt herself losing consciousness out of pure shock. Deacon caught her before she collapsed to the ground, the phone falling from her hand and bouncing against the linoleum tile of her kitchen as the reporter’s voice repeated—

“Jenny is dead.”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Fourth of July, Part II”

Summary: Despite Elliot’s reservations about meeting Y/N’s family, the long weekend goes well . . . except for an incident that causes Y/N to unknowingly meet Mr. Robot for the first time.

Story Summary,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”  “The Long Weekend, Part I”,  “The Long Weekend, Part II”,  “The Aftermath”,  “Undecided”,  **“Decided”,  “Spooked”,  **“Fourth of July, Part I”

Word Count: 9800

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley

If you want added or I’ve missed your request, let me know : )

A/N: I am actively pretending the Elliot of MR Season 4 is an illusion : ) Let me live in my fantasy of soft Elliot, thanks! 

Warning: Sexual content, non-descriptive mentions of blood, somewhat descriptive scene of an anxiety/panic attack

* Wednesday Evening *

“Open the bag behind my seat.”

Elliot shifted in his seat and reached into the back. He pulled the black shopping bag up to his lap and rustled around.

I glanced over at him, smirking.

“How do you like them?”

Elliot sighed, and despite his anxiousness about meeting my family, I knew he was happy—and happy was something that was starting to look damn good on him.

Elliot put his new swim trunks back in the bag and returned it to its spot behind my seat. He reached over and gave my thigh a quick squeeze before he leaned back, resting his head against his seat.

I had never imagined that such a simple gesture of affection could set my heart racing, but that was how it went with Elliot. There were never going to be any grandiose displays of romance; with him, it would always be about the little things—remembering my favorite food or movie, knowing how I took my tea in the morning, going on a holiday despite a sometimes crippling social anxiety.

And as if on cue, Elliot’s voice sounded, just a hair louder than the radio.

“Can you tell me what to expect again?”

Even though this was the third time I was about to explain what to expect, I still smiled. I knew this was an important part of Elliot’s attempt to alleviate his apprehension.

“ETA is currently clocked at 7:28 pm. Kathleen and Josh, my oldest sister and her husband, along with their three children—do you want their names again?”

“Jack, Jared, and Molly—10, 8, and 3.”

“I’m pretty sure those are the right ages. I told you—I’m a shit aunt,” I said through a laugh.

“Erin and Ryan will get there last.”

“Yes. Erin’s going to be late for her own wedding—mark my words. I wish my parents would worry about her more than me.”

“But they don’t worry because she’s a lawyer which is a job they understand. Unlike tech,” Elliot finished.

“See? You’ve got it all figured out. Just remember not to say any of those insights of yours out loud.”

“I’ll try.”

“And Charlie—Char’s coming tomorrow. He’s the owner of the sweatpants I put you in over Memorial Day.”

“He’s your favorite.”

I glanced at Elliot, my face twisted into an expression of surprised amusement.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. It’s in the way you talk about him—how protective you are. I feel that way about Darlene.”

“But she’s your only sibling, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s totally okay that she’s your favorite,” I said with a slight chuckle. “Anyway, Charlie and I are closer in age, so that’s one reason why I think we’ve always gotten along the best. The other is that Erin and Kathleen are a lot like my mom. My brother and I are much more like my dad.”

“Mom. Valerie, goes by Val, but I’ll stick to calling her Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“And Dad?”

“Charles Y/L/N. Owner of CNC Precision Machining, host company of the company I work for, and ranked number 348 on the Forbes 400 list.”

“Please don’t open with that,” I said, cringing. “I guarantee he doesn’t even know he’s on that damn list.”

“How can he not?”

“He’s got people to worry about and organize those things, not to mention he plans to dump half of what the company made this year into three new factories right here in the US, so that will cut his personal ‘net worth’ almost in half. My father has never forgotten that Grand-daddy could barely afford to feed his own family. His priority is and always will be job creation. I promise you, Elliot. He’s a good person.”

“I don’t know how you can be so flippant about the fact that you really don’t ever need to work. You could do anything you wanted with your life—anything.”

“Colin? Is that you? Did you takeover Elliot’s body?”

I could feel Elliot roll his eyes, and I smirked.

“It’s—”

“It’s my father’s money. Sure, I could live off of our family’s wealth, but then what would my purpose be? How could I ever, ever hope to keep all these guys quiet in here?” I asked, tapping the side of my head. You, of all people, should understand that.”

“I do. And don’t think I’ve forgotten we’ve talked about this before,” Elliot said as his way of apologizing. “I’m just nervous.”

“When are you not nervous?”

“An excellent question for which there is no answer,” Elliot said, and I could hear the smile as he formed his words.

We pulled into the drive of my parents’ waterfront house, and I snuck a glance at Elliot. He was looking out the window, craning to take in the property. I loved this house and always felt at peace along the bay. It was disappointing I hadn’t been out here, really out here, for such a long time.

I pulled in slightly behind my sister’s vehicle onto the cobblestoned driveway in the back of the house that made a loop, and when I shut the car off, I lamely said, “Well, we’re here!”

Elliot whipped his head over, almost as if he’d forgotten I was in the car. He looked pale, and his eyes were wide and skittish. He swallowed twice, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“Should I have dressed up?” Elliot said, his voice fading in and out.

I laughed softly.

“Did I dress up?”

“You always look good. Nice,” Elliot mumbled as he glanced at the house again.

“Especially when I’m naked. In bed. With you,” I said with a teasing grin.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Elliot shot out. “You can’t talk like that here.”

He gestured so vigorously toward the house that his hand smacked off the window, causing me to giggle.

“I’m just trying to get you to relax.”

“Thinking about us, about you, like that is not fucking helping.”

“Sorry. It’s getting hot in here without the air conditioning, though. Are you ready?”

Elliot just looked at me.

“You are ready. Remember, they wanted to meet you. I’m not springing some strange hobo I picked up off the side of the road on them.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay. Let’s go,” Elliot said opening the car door.

I smiled at his resolve, but my grin fell as my nephews came barreling around the wrap-around porch to see whether it was me or Erin who had arrived.

“Aunt Y/N!” Jared yelled as he hit his older brother, Jack, with the pool noodle he was swinging. “Will you swim with us? Please!”

“Am I going to get hit with that noodle?”

“Probably not,” Jared said, a grin plastered over his face, water droplets from his sopping hair still trailing down his tanned face.

“Hello,” Jack said, turning to look at Elliot, straightening up to his fullest height and extending his hand.

Elliot looked at him for a moment before he reached out and shook Jack’s extended, damp hand.

“Hello.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jack finished before turning to me. “Can I help you take anything into the house?”

I smiled. Jack was every bit his mother’s son: well-mannered, mature, and wise beyond his years, but his eyes still held a child’s innocence, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for not spending more time with him and his siblings.

“What a kind gesture, Jack, but do you really want to watch Mimi go apoplectic on the first day of the holiday when you go trampling, soaking wet through the front door?”

“What’s apopple-tic?” Jared asked, wrapping his pool noodle around his waist and swinging side to side.

I looked at Jack and raised my eyebrow.

“Crazy mad,” he said in answer to his brother. “Like how mom got when you put her iPad in the dishwasher.”

Jared shot his brother a murderous look and pulled back to hit him with the noodle.

“Go swim, boys. I promise we’ll come out as soon we’re settled.”

“Dad said we could play with our fireworks tonight!” Jared said before he turned and ran back up the porch stairs and around to the pool.

Jack grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and took off after his brother.

“Two down,” I said as I pulled my bag out of the car.

“They’re kids. Do they even count?”

“I think they do,” I said with a slight shrug of my shoulders.

Elliot gave me one of those half-smiles as he lifted my bag out of my hand and reached for his. I let him carry our bags, and I walked back around to the back seat to grab my purse, my work tote, and the shopping bag that contained Elliot’s swim trunks. I didn’t want to do any work over the weekend, but if there was an emergency, hopefully this time it could be solved remotely. Elliot had also brought his backpack, which made me feel a little better.

Elliot followed me up the porch stairs and through the front door. I led him up the center staircase and to the left, all the way to the end of the hall. I opened up the door to my room and set my work bag and shopping bag on one of the striped chairs near the wall. I tossed my purse onto the bed and directed Elliot to set our big bags in the walk-in closet.

When Elliot emerged, he looked around the room and walked over to the French doors that led out onto a small balcony that overlooked the bay. It looked like he was on a military mission to memorize his surroundings in the event of an emergency, so I left him alone as he acclimated.

My room was light and breezy, done in hues of blues with accents of white and coral. Elliot looked comically out of place, clad head to toe in black, standing between the sheer white and blue curtains.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I finally said when Elliot sought out my eyes, his looking a startlingly, lovely shade of blue in the light of my room.

I couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, his face expressionless as he looked at me. I moved forward, waiting to see if he’d turn into my body or step away.

He stood still for a moment, before he turned to me, tentatively wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I sank into him, breathing him in.

“Thank you for doing this,” I whispered against his neck.

“Don’t thank me yet. I still have a few days to make you regret bringing me.”

“Stop,” I said pulling back to look at him. “Nothing is going to make me regret bringing you here.”

“Why do you have so much faith in me?”

Because I’m in love with you, I thought without hesitation, which was followed by a sheer bolt of panic that I immediately swallowed down.

Fuck.

“I just do,” I said, smiling and angling my face up for a kiss.

Elliot bent his head, kissing me sweetly in the still-bright light of the fading day, and I felt yet another jolt of shock at how incredibly right this felt, how easy.

After unpacking a few things and plugging my phone in to charge, we went downstairs and headed out to the pool. I took Elliot’s hand in mine as we walked across the porch and down the sidewalk and stairs to the stone encased pool that was being energetically occupied by my nephews, my niece, my dad, and my sister.

Elliot tightened his grip, and I gave him a reassuring squeeze back.

“Kathleen! Your sister’s here!” my mom yelled, waving at me and then at the pool.

“Hi, mom,” I said, releasing Elliot’s hand so I could give her a hug.

“This is Elliot,” I said as soon as I let go.

“Elliot,” my mom said, extending her hand. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Don’t be dramatic, mom.”

“Nonsense. We’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to put such a handsome face to Y/N’s words.”

“Uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Oh, please. Call me Val.”

Elliot gave her a sheepish smile and ran his hand through his hair, his eyes taking in the swimming pool, the bar, and the pool house.

“Hey! You said you’d swim with us!” Jared shouted as he leapt up from the water and ran over to me.

“I said no such thing because you did not promise I wouldn’t get hit with a pool noodle.”

Jared scowled a bit at me, and I grabbed him up, bridal style and tossed him back in the pool. He came up grinning, and I had to jump back as he aimed a splash at me.

“You asked for it,” my sister said as she swam to the edge, gracefully pulling herself up to sit. “Toss me my towel.”

I rolled my eyes and retrieved the towel she had pointed at. Kathleen, the prettiest and the bossiest.

“Hey, Y/N—how was the drive in?” came the pleasant voice of my brother-in-law, Josh.

“Not bad. Sat in the tunnel forever, but no surprise there,” I said, returning to Elliot who was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking like he had hoped everyone had forgotten he existed.

“Josh this is Elliot. Elliot, Josh, Kathleen’s husband.”

They shook hands, and I watched Elliot carefully, unsure if he was sort of comfortable with all the handshaking or if he was just internalizing the discomfort really well. I figured it was probably the latter.

Josh asked Elliot a few questions, and Elliot gave very direct answers.

“Save some of the interrogation for after dinner,” I said, returning to Elliot’s side.

“Small talk is—”

“Horrific and you know that,” I cut Josh off with an eyeroll. “You remember what it was like coming here for the first time to meet everyone.”

Josh tilted his head back and sighed, his eyes reflecting the light of the sun as it had begun lowering over the bay.

“The first time I met the family was at Christmas. It was a house full of, shit, 50 relatives? 60? I seriously considered just leaving and never coming back.”

“Leave me? Unlikely?” Kath said as she hugged Josh from behind, soaking his polo shirt as he reached up to grasp her hand and grin.

“The boss would never have allowed you to get away,” I said, rolling my eyes and smiling.

“Do you hear the way she talks to me, Elliot? It’s not too late for you to escape.”

I rolled my eyes again, only to be scolded by my mother.

“Honestly, Y/N. If I counted the number of times you rolled your eyes—”

“Come on,” I said, taking Elliot’s hand in mine and leading him toward the bar. “Let’s go play Cocktail a la Tom Cruise.”

Josh followed and Kathleen sat down to talk to our mom and to watch the kids in the pool. Elliot listened to Josh and I chat as I mixed up a few drinks and had the boys try them before settling on making a pitcher of something that tasted mostly like a Mai Tai.

By the time my pitcher of drinks was made, Dad had gotten out of the pool and toweled off before walking over to us. He introduced himself to Elliot and welcomed him to our home.

“We’re happy to meet you, Elliot.”

“Thank you, sir,” Elliot said, his eyes flicking to mine before returning to the ground in front of my dad.

Dad glanced at me and gave me a small smile. I told him how hard this was going to be for Elliot because he struggled with meeting people and with getting to know people in general—I explained that he was sort of the stereotype of the introverted tech guy. Not to mention, Dad knew all about the incident in the server room.

Josh picked up the pitcher and walked back to Kathleen and Mom, leaving my dad and I alone with Elliot. Dad sat down on the stool next to Elliot as I wiped my hands on a towel. I grabbed a beer from the fridge before I came out from behind the bar to give Dad a big hug.

“If you can keep her from working too much, Elliot, I’d greatly appreciate that,” Dad said, smiling at me and reaching for his beer.

Elliot looked up and glanced between the two of us, something about our interaction relaxing him. It wasn’t like with Kathleen or even with my mom—I loved my family, and they loved me, but there was something special about the way my dad and I understood each other.

“I’ll try after she settles into her new job. I don’t think even the threat of a nuclear holocaust could stop her until she feels like she owns that position.”

Dad laughed, and I looked at Elliot, my face twisted into a shocked smile.

“Hey now—I would stop if I knew the world was ending!”

“Would you, though, sweetheart?”

I narrowed my eyes at my dad, and he squished me to his side.

“You understand her,” Dad said to Elliot. “That’s the second of the many hurdles you have to jump before she’ll let you care about her.”

“Da-ad!”

“I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t already now,” Dad said as he took a long swig of his beer, eyeing Elliot to confirm what he already knew.

“What’s the first hurdle?” Elliot asked.

“You have to be interesting enough to catch her attention.”

“Oh my god, Dad,” I said as I returned to fetch my drink from behind the bar. “Can we not dive right into the depths of my psyche?”

“It’s better than small talk,” Dad retorted as Elliot gave a surprised laugh.

Dad smiled at Elliot and angled his beer toward him.

“To the death of small talk,” Dad said, and Elliot smiled as he clinked his glass with Dad’s bottle of beer.

Despite the fact that I was slightly embarrassed, I couldn’t stop the spread of my satisfied grin. That was what my dad did—he made people comfortable, even people like Elliot who couldn’t or wouldn’t show their true selves to a stranger.

“Charles, kids! Dinner’s ready,” Mom yelled as she motioned to the caterers who were setting up the picnic tables on the front lawn.

The three of us made our way to the front lawn, Elliot’s hand finding mine as soon as I was close to him.

Dinner was quite lovely despite the July heat, my mom having had a breezy tent set up around the picnic tables and tiki torches spread out to provide the double benefit of soft light and warding off insects.

The focus was mostly off of Elliot as we all chatted, catching up and quickly falling into easy conversation about family members, neighbors, and career events, including my promotion.

Erin and Ryan arrived just as the caterers cleared away the plates, Erin grabbing at some of the leftovers and giggling her way across the lawn.

All attention was diverted to her; she was one of those people that the eye and the ear were drawn to—charismatic and full of energy.

After meeting Elliot, Erin sat down next to me and leaned in to whisper, “As soon as the olds go to bed, we’re going starry swimming—will your cutie be interested?”

Starry swimming was code for getting high in the pool.

“Yes—he’ll be quite interested.”

Erin gave me a grin and shot a wink at Elliot, who raised his eyebrows in concern.

Leaning in close to his ear, I quietly said, “I’ll explain later.”

It was after midnight by the time I rummaged through my wardrobe, wondering which bikini might interest Elliot the most. I settled on a little yellow one that was fringed with ruffles, slipping on a pair of matching flipflops before walking out of the closet.  

Elliot’s eyes were lit up by the screen of his phone until they flicked to me, then settled on me as his mouth dropped open a bit.

“Good choice?”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“Who’s texting you?”

“Angela. She wanted me to go see her dad with her for the holiday. She thinks I’m lying.”

“Let’s send her a pic,” I said, grinning and plopping down next to Elliot.

“Uhhh—”

“She doesn’t know about me?”

“Not exactly.”

I looked at Elliot and shrugged my shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I just haven’t really had the chance to tell anyone—”

“In case we break up?”

Elliot frowned and looked away, his hands coming to rest on top of his head after he tossed his phone on the bed.

He sighed, “Are you mad I’m still waiting for the hammer to fall?”

“No—I’m mad because you haven’t put your swim trunks on yet,” I said as I poked the end of his nose. “Get changed.”

Elliot groaned and reluctantly slid out of bed, heading into the closet to change. When he emerged, he was in a black t-shirt and his new swim trunks, black, but dotted with white stars. His skinny legs looked comical and even paler than his arms and face.

“We need to get you some sun, hackerman.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, and I warned him that my mother had a sixth sense for eye-rolling—she was probably getting out of bed right at that moment to come and yell at him.

Elliot looked genuinely alarmed for a moment before he narrowed his eyes and told me to shut up.

I giggled and he huffed in an attempt to disguise his own, inadvertent laugh.

Erin and Ryan were already floating around in the pool by the time we got outside.

Despite their closeness, Erin was every bit Kathleen’s opposite. The starkest contrast was Erin’s inclination to disregard rules, even though she was a lawyer. My dad always said that was what actually made her so damn good at her job.

“Heeeey!” Erin yelled, swimming to the edge of the pool and hoisting herself out. “Come on, Ry—I’m ready to really start this party.”

Ryan chose to use the stairs at the shallow end of the pool, and he walked over to us as Erin tossed him a towel. Ryan wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to the bar.

“Let’s see the goods, Elliot. Strip!”

“Please ignore her,” I said, kicking at Erin. “She’s a complete slut.”

Erin corrected me as she wiggled her engagement ring in my direction.

“Excuse me. A former slut.”

I laughed and extended my hands to help pull her up. She pressed her wet body into mine before giggling and running over to the bar.

“The answer is yes—she’s the energetic one.”

Elliot just looked at me, then to Erin and Ryan.

As he followed me to the bar, Elliot quietly said, “You’re all so . . . affectionate.”

I stopped and turned around, looking at Elliot’s face.

“Well, Charlie’s not. He’s more reserved, kinda like you.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You like each other.”

“Generally,” I said chuckling.

“Hey, Erin,” I called. “Remember that time we got in a fight over the last bag of chips?”

“Yeah—you sat on them and the bag exploded. Then you made ME clean it up!”

Erin and I laughed as Ryan and Elliot smiled, listening to us tease each other.

“You smoke?” Ryan asked Elliot as he finished rolling the joint.

“On occasion,” Elliot said, causing me to laugh again.

“My man,” Ryan said as he lit the join and offered it to Elliot first.

Erin, not be outdone, reached into the pouch on the bar and pulled out another joint, lighting it and taking a long drag before passing it to me.

“Selfish asshole,” I said as I exhaled in her face.

“Love you, sis!”

The haze of a high settled over us like the haze of the July night. Soon, we found ourselves in the pool, splashing and giggling and swimming and talking, Elliot’s lips loosened far more than usual.

Erin flirted with him unmercifully, as was her custom, and Elliot looked terrified at first, his eyes darting to me as he struggled to put distance between himself and her.

Ryan and I were both sitting in the shallow end, grinning in amusement, knowing she was only having fun. Erin would flirt with a tomato if she thought it might flirt back.  

Once Elliot realized it was all in fun, Erin even managed to make him laugh out loud with one of the loudest sounds I had ever heard Elliot make. His laugh was carefree, and it melted my heart, drawing me to him like a siren’s song.

Erin splashed me in the face before she swam away.

“Having fun?” I said, grinning, my words feeling heavy and slow.

Elliot grew quiet and I could see his eyes burning to let his voice say yes.

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” I said smiling and sliding my hands to his hips, floating closer to him.

Elliot didn’t say that he was happy, but he reached out for my legs and wrapped them around his waist before leaning in to kiss me.

Our kiss was slow, steady, and deep, and it could’ve been the high, but I felt like the entire world melted away when Elliot’s mouth was on mine.

And before I knew it, we really were all alone in the pool. So, I returned to Elliot’s lips, kissing him and grinding against him under the stars, so high and so content.

* Thursday * 

Elliot awoke with a jolt due to me staring intently at him, a grin plastered across my face. I was already dressed in a dark blue swimsuit underneath my white shorts and white lightweight, long-sleeve top.

“Do you get seasick?” I asked while dangling a bottle of water in front of his face.

Elliot blinked away the sleep as his mind struggled to figure out what I was talking about, and as his dry mouth from all the weed we smoked last night struggled to speak.

He took the bottle of water, took a long drink, and said, “I—I don’t think so?”

“Great! We’re going sailing with Charlie. I’ve already laid out an outfit,” I said gesturing to a pile of clothes that were laying across the bench at the foot of the bed.

Elliot lifted his head to look at the clothes, then sank back onto the bed.

“What else did you buy me?”

“Just a couple of non-black shirts so you don’t get heatstroke.”

“Stop buying me stuff.”

“You don’t really mind,” I said planting loud kisses across his jaw until he laughed and pushed me away.

“This weekend is going to fuck up my worldview for the rest of my life. Sailing,” Elliot huffed. “I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

“Hey—lots of people sail. They have Groupon deals all the time.”

“What the hell is a Groupon?”

“Something you will never, ever use,” I said with a chuckle. “I’ll see you downstairs in 15.”

I grabbed my tote from the bench and went downstairs to pack some light snacks. Charlie was already packing a cooler, and I knew he’d remember the booze and forget the food.

We chatted, mostly about the good weed he missed last night.

Elliot walked into the kitchen and I had to stop my mouth from dropping open. He was in the light grey shorts and the white t-shirt I laid out for him. He also opted for the black slip-on converses I tucked in his bag. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten Elliot this far from his jeans, tennis shoes, and hoodie.

He ran his hand nervously through his hair, pulling at the already straight strands.

“Charlie, this is Elliot. Elliot, my brother, Charlie.”

“Hey.”

“Hey. So, what do you say we get the hell outta here? I love Kat’s kids, but the thought of them on a sailboat—no fuckin’ way.”

“Mom and Dad know we’re taking the boat, right?”

“Leave a note? Be back before dinner.”

“Smart—we’ll avoid the pre-dinner, nothing is ready even though it is, drama.”

We each grabbed a bag or a cooler and walked out the back door toward our dock, the sun having risen only a few feet above the water. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, only a few clouds surrounding the sun, casting a soft, golden light over the water.

I looked over at Elliot and smiled, his skin glowing golden with the warmth of the sun, a slight smile on his face as he took in the sunrise, the water, and the sailboat.

I leaned closer to him and whispered, “You’re happy—and it’s okay.”

“I think it’s just nerves. I’m so far out of my element I can’t do anything other than smile like an idiot.”

I laughed and Charlie looked back.

“Elliot’s never been sailing. He’s a little nervous.”

“You’re in good hands,” Charlie said, stepping back to allow us to get on the boat first. “I started taking Y/N sailing as soon as she was out of diapers—which took a lot longer than you’d think.”

“I swear to god, Charlie,” I said, shaking my head, and seeing Elliot smirk out of the corner of my eye.

“Do not let him think he’s funny—he’ll roast me all day if he thinks he has a proper audience.”

Elliot shrugged. “There’s nothing he could tell me that would make me think you aren’t perfect.”

“Dude. No. She can’t have hooked you that deep yet?”

“Pretty deep,” Elliot said, his eyes glancing at me.

Charlie made a noise of disgust, but I didn’t miss the soft smile. If I was happy, my brother was happy, and vice-versa. It was as simple as that for us. Charlie and I never had to worry about comparing ourselves to one another, never had to worry about that slight undercurrent of jealousy that stemmed from thinking that we were not enough like our sisters.

Sailing was a lot of work, so Charlie and I taught Elliot, who was eager to learn. We stopped for lunch at the Indian Harbor Yacht Club, and Elliot stuck to my side, clearly preferring the open air of the bay over the aristocratic charm of the club.

When we set sail again, Elliot didn’t need reminding about what to do and jumped into handling the rigging like he had been doing it for years.

I could tell Elliot liked Charlie, probably because he told such embarrassing stories about me, but more likely because Charlie was just like my dad—he made people feel at ease.

When we weren’t adjusting the sails or sharing stories, the three of us just sat in companionable silence, taking in the feel of the boat on the water, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the salt in the air, and the quiet solitude of the bay.

We got back just in time for dinner, which was a repeat of the previous night with the exception that we had Erin to entertain us. The early evening passed, full of laughter and stories, and I leaned back and smiled as Elliot took in all of our dynamics, occasionally leaning across the table to ask Charlie some more questions about sailing.

“Alright, family!” my mother announced. “Time for fireworks!”

We made our way toward the beach with our blankets, and once we got settled, Elliot looked over at me smiled—at least until he ended up with a lap full of toddler.

Molly and her brothers were playing, waving sparklers around and unleashing blacksnake fireworks, and she took off running only to trip over the edge of our blanket and fall right into Elliot’s lap.

“Gah!” came Elliot’s shocked response as he looked down at Molly, his expression one of pure horror until Molly twisted around to see what, or rather who, she landed on. She looked at Elliot and started giggling.

“Silly!” she exclaimed, patting him on the arm.

“You fell on me,” Elliot replied in his normal intonation just as the first firework shot up in the distance, startling me and Elliot, but not Molly.

When Molly felt Elliot start at the noise, she asked, “Do you need to sit on me?”

Elliot chuckled and looked at her with his grey eyes, a smile crinkling the skin in the corners.

“I’m okay, and thanks for asking. The first one always scares me a little.”

Molly smiled and shifted, turning around in Elliot’s lap to face the water and to lean back onto his chest, her hair snaggling just a bit in the slight stubble on his chin.

He looked over at me and I smiled, shrugged, and scooted closer to lean against his side.

Molly “ooo-ed” and “ahh-ed” as we watched the fireworks and Elliot kept sneaking glances at her as if he couldn’t believe she were still there. I suppose there was a quietness in Elliot that just appealed to Molly, and to the boys. He didn’t treat them like they were anything other than miniature people. Kids liked to know they were human, too. Liked to feel normal, something Elliot always seemed to recognize when it was a need in someone else.

I rested my head on Elliot’s shoulder, and I would be lying if I said the thought of a normal, disgustingly domestic future with a child of our own didn’t cross my mind. And when Elliot turned his head to breath in my hair before placing a kiss to the top of my head, I would be lying if said I didn’t believe he was thinking about it, too.

* Friday * 

“Fuck,” I muttered, my mind barely awake as I scrolled through my phone.

Elliot was laid out next to me, soundly sleeping. I hated to wake him, but I had no choice.

I put my phone on the nightstand and rolled to face him, taking in the peaceful look on his face. The circles under his eyes were gone and his skin had started to take on a more golden hue. The sun had done him wonders, and I had to remind myself that I didn’t have time to get lost in the beauty of him at the moment.

I was away from work, so of course the world was on fire.

I moved in closer to Elliot and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, reaching up to run my fingers through his thick, messy hair.

Elliot stirred so I whispered, “Hey, El. Good morning.”

I could see Elliot’s eyes moving under his lids as he fought to wake up. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He shifted, stretching a little before finally opening his eyes.

The immediate smile on his face as he registered me warmed my heart.

“Morning,” he rasped, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“I lied. It’s not a ‘good’ morning,” I said frowning.

Elliot’s eyes turned more alert, so I continued.

“Our IDS went off last night—well, early this morning. The reactive program set up before your time worked so the Source IP was blocked. They tried like hell to get in, and I want to know if this was an isolated incident or if they were after other companies, too.”

“You want me to track them.”

“Can you do it remotely? Dad has a VPN.”

“Yes,” Elliot paused, then asked, “They gave him a VPN here? In a house that’s not always occupied?”

“It’s a recent development. This is sort of a secret, but Dad is planning to retire next year. He and mom plan to move to this house permanently, so they’ve been spending more time here.”

Elliot sighed.

“Smart move—the hackers, I mean.”

“I know. Is that what you would do if you were a black hat?”

Elliot looked over at me and raised his brow, “I would’ve succeeded.”

I huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his lips. Elliot quickly wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body on top of his. What began as an innocent kiss turned into a mess of breathy pants and sighs as our bodies ground together in the early morning light.

Elliot rolled us over and reached between our bodies, sliding a finger into my underwear to stroke my opening. I reached to grasp his hard length through his underwear before pushing the fronts down to pull out his cock.

I looked at him and he returned my gaze, his grey eyes darkened to a deep blue.

I spread my legs and pulled him toward me as he pushed my panties to the side. I pressed his tip against my wetness, and I longed for my ache of want to be filled by him.

Elliot narrowed his eyes with concern, but I shook my head and shifted my hips up to invite him to enter me.

Elliot pushed inside of me with ease, his eyes closing and his mouth popping open at the sensation of being inside me without a condom for the first time. He pulled me closer to his body, our t-shirts pressing into one another as we fucked in a heated frenzy of morning sex.

His face was pressed into my hair, into my neck, and he came quickly, buried unapologetically inside my body.

I slowly exhaled in a sad sigh that we didn’t have longer to just stay like this.

“We’ve got work to do,” I said, leaning up to place a soft bite on his shoulder.

“But—”

“I don’t need to get off every time, El. Sometimes, it’s more about intimacy. And that was delightfully intimate. I’m going to get shivers all day thinking about you—not that that’s much different than any other day now,” I said with a smile as I wriggled out from under his warm body.

“Get dressed,” I said with a wink as I ducked into the bathroom.

By lunchtime, Elliot had tracked the hackers and every company they attacked. They were novices and left way too many trails; my dad made frequent appearances in his study, sometimes asking if we needed anything, sometimes asking general questions, and sometimes just watching us work.

“I feel so inept,” he said, watching as our fingers flew over the keys, Elliot barely registering his presence.

“It’s like a hidden world, Dad,” I said distantly, trying not to lose the current signature of one of the IPS addresses.

By early afternoon, Elliot and I had everything we needed for me to hand over the file to the police.

My dad was impressed and peppered Elliot with questions until the boys came in to beg Pap to swim with them.

Elliot and I joined Charlie, Erin, Ryan, and Mom in the kitchen, settling at the kitchen table with Charlie, who began peppering us with questions very similar to my father’s.

It was Elliot’s turn to be the expert on something, and I listened with such contentment as he talked, unbelieving of just how well the weekend had gone, despite the early morning hack.

I should have known—it’s always the quite moments of pure contentment that are broken, shattered into a thousand pieces so you feel like you had only ever imagined experiencing genuine happiness.

Two very wet boys, one of them screeching, came skidding to a halt in the kitchen attempting to tattle to Mimi about some wrong that had been committed, except that Jared was so worked up that he just kept on skidding until his nose collided with the edge of the kitchen island, the crack that sounded through the room sending a wave of nausea through me.

Jared bounced off the island and fell onto the floor, blood pouring from his nose. I heard Elliot’s reaction before I saw or registered his look of panic. The chair he had been sitting in had flung back as he jumped up and he was pale and trembling as he stared at the mess that was Jared on the floor. Charlie jumped into action, running outside to get Kathleen, and Erin, Ry, and Mom all scrambled to get supplies to stop the bleeding and to tend to Jared.  

Elliot looked crazed in that moment, his mind gone, so far away, just like that fateful night in the server room.

Everyone was so preoccupied with Jared’s bleeding nose that no one noticed Elliot’s reaction. I went to reach for him, to pull him into the other room, but he jumped away from me, his eyes frantic as he searched for an escape.

He took off in the direction of the stairs and I followed, feeling even sicker to my stomach.

I followed Elliot to my room, and he went straight into the closet, settling back against the wall, his breathing irregular, his eyes vacant.

“Elliot,” I said in a tone that was very similar to that night in the server room.

I approached him slowly, knowing better than to reach for him this time. I settled onto the floor, my every movement deliberate.

“Whatever’s happening in your head right now, just know that it’s not real anymore. I’m real. I’m right here,” I said, tapping the floor next to him, still not daring to touch him. “I’m right here, El.”

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Elliot said in a tone I had never heard before, his eyes snapping into focus and staring into me, icy and furious.

“This is all your fault. You wormed in, wriggled deep inside, and you’ve got no idea the kinda shit you’re gonna find when you’ve burrowed in deep enough. I can’t protect him if you keep forcing him to open up. To be vulnerable,” Elliot spat.

“Him who, Elliot? Your father?”

“Fuck you,” Elliot said, still looking at me like he wished I were dead.

“He’s . . . gone, remember? Your dad’s gone.”

Elliot said nothing, but pulled his legs tight up to his body. His shaking hands wrapped around his knees.

My eyes were filled with tears as I moved to sit next to Elliot against the wall of my closet. I swiped at the tears I couldn’t hold back, their wet heat so offensive to my fingers as I rubbed them away and onto my shorts.

We sat in silence for a long time, and I was afraid to look at Elliot again. Afraid to see that twisted expression on his face that said it hated me.

My ass had long ago grown numb, but I didn’t dare move. I didn’t want Elliot to think he was alone when he came back from whatever was going on in his head.

I was busy pulling at the frays on my shorts and continuing to fight off tears when Elliot’s soft voice broke the silence.

“Y/N?” Elliot asked, his expression tightening in a wave of confusion.

I finally looked at him again, and it was if he’d undergone a change. The iciness was gone, and it was once again the Elliot I had always known looking at me.

“What happened? I don’t—I can’t remember anything after . . . after—” Elliot looked so lost, so worried.

“Shh,” I said. “Don’t try to remember. It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is! I have to remember. I need to remember!” he yelled, causing me to flinch.

“Jared had an accident—slammed into the kitchen island,” I said immediately, watching Elliot’s face as he stared at me, wide-eyed and desperate. “He has a broken nose. There was blood everywhere, and you just . . . lost it. It was like that night in the server room. You’ve been here with me, Elliot. Right here. But your mind . . . wasn’t.”

“Why can’t I remember?” Elliot asked, his voice tinged with agony.

“Your mind isn’t ready for you to remember. Whatever happened to you—your mind just isn’t ready to let you remember. Repression is a powerful coping mechanism.”

Elliot looked at me for a long time. His eyes searching mine before they focused on my hands in my lap, the wet spots from my tears an evident mark on the denim of my shorts.

Elliot’s eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled as he fought not to cry.

“I hate this,” he breathed. “I hate that I can’t ever be normal.

“Come here,” I said, pulling his head to my chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and I could feel the wetness of his tears on my chest as he began to cry. I had a million questions, but I wasn’t sure Elliot could even answer them or that I should even ask them.

And talking it out wasn’t what he needed right now. What he needed now more than anything was someone to make him feel safe and loved.

“Shh,” I whispered into his hair as I held him, my face buried in the sweet scent of my own shampoo that he had used, the thick, soft strands of his hair tickling my nose and cheeks.

“You’re safe with me, Elliot. What’s in the past can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let it. Know why?”

He shook his head against my chest.

“Because I love you.”

A breathy sob escaped from between Elliot’s lips and he clutched onto me even tighter than the night I saved him from the server room.

“I love you,” I whispered next to his ear before pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, and I’ll do anything I can to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

We stayed like that for a long time, so long I thought Elliot had fallen asleep, and my eyes had begun to drift shut.

I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door, and Elliot jumped up, clearly not asleep.

“It’s probably just someone coming to check on us. Just stay here,” I said pulling the door closed enough so no one could see in.

I opened the door and stepped out into the hall to talk to Charlie who confirmed that Jared had indeed broken his nose. Charlie thought it was somewhat comical now that the hubbub was over, but I just sighed and shook my head.

“Remember that time I broke my nose over Thanksgiving? I still don’t think Mom’s forgiven me,” he said with a small laugh.

“No—she still won’t allow you to play football. And now she’ll never let Jared and Jack swim again,” I said.

“Is Elliot okay? I saw him bolt out of the kitchen.”

“He doesn’t do blood,” I said, the lie to protect Elliot falling easily from my lips.

“That was a lot of fucking blood,” Charlie confirmed. “Always a time to be had at the Y/L/N summer house!”

I shook my head and smiled softly, then told Charlie goodnight, thanking him for checking on us, too.

“Hey,” I said gently as I pushed open the closet door. “Charlie said Jared’s fine. They set his nose and he’s going to have two spectacularly black eyes for a while, but he’s doing just fine. Let’s get you the hell off this floor and into bed. You cannot tell me that your ass is not full of pins and needles.”

We undressed, quietly and quickly, sliding into the bed after Elliot opened the balcony door to let in the night’s breeze and the noise of the water on the bay. In the distance, there were fireworks popping off as people’s celebrations continued.

When we settled into bed, Elliot faced away from me, but backed into my body, touching me just enough so that he knew I was there. I wanted to wrap my arms around him again, but I refrained. He clearly needed some space, but not so much to know I wasn’t there. I had a feeling I would end up with a body covered in Elliot in the morning once his mind was at ease and his subconscious was free to do as it pleased.

Elliot clearly experienced some kind of panic attack triggered by Jared’s injury. As for the way he spoke to me, it was some sort of defense mechanism.

I shivered and hoped I never had to see that part of Elliot again.

* Saturday morning *

I was right.

I awoke to a mouthful of black hair as Elliot was tucked into me, his arm wrapped snuggly over me and his head resting on my chest, just over my heartbeat.

My waking thoughts returned to last night, and I wondered whether I should ask Elliot about what happened. I wanted to know more about his past, but I really wanted to know how to help him now.

I snuggled into the top of his hair, and breathed him in.

My next waking thought was that I had told Elliot I loved him—fuck.

He damn near had a meltdown after I asked him to be my boyfriend, so I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen when he processed what I said to him. I wondered if I should start with that—maybe he wouldn’t even remember?

My phone lit up and I reached over to check my texts. Kathleen said they were leaving soon and wanted to say goodbye.

I slipped out from under Elliot’s grasp and threw on some shorts, trying not to wake him as I wrestled my hair into a bun.

“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily.

“Kat’s leaving soon and I want to tell her and the kids goodbye.”

“Did I—did they see?”

“No. Char’s the only one who noticed you left the room rather quickly, and I told him blood wasn’t your thing.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna tell the kids goodbye?”

Elliot nodded and shuffled out of bed, reaching for the same shorts he had on last night. We both used the bathroom and then headed downstairs, the smell of a spectacular breakfast assaulting our noses.

Erin came pounding down the stairs after us and quickly read the room before inhaling dramatically and saying, “Ahhh! Nothing like the smell of bacon in the morning, right Jare?”

Everyone laughed as Jared glared at her and then even more when he couldn’t stop his own laugh.

We all ate breakfast together, and I could tell Elliot was tense, the easiness of the previous days gone, replaced by the anxiety that just refused to let go of him for any real length of time.

I had struggled with my own bouts of anxiousness and depression, but nothing had ever been as serious as Elliot’s. My heart ached for him, and I resolved not to let the incident in the closet go . . . like I had with the incident in the server room.

If I was ever going to help him, or get him help, I needed to get him to talk to me.

We helped Kathleen and Josh load up the car and stood in the driveway to say goodbye. Molly walked over to Elliot and clutched onto his legs, so he picked her up and hugged her, much to her delight.

Jared gave us all a reluctant hug, and I planted a kiss to the top of his head before whispering that Uncle Char broke his nose over Thanksgiving and while he was in the ER with Mimi and Pap, the turkey burned.

Jared’s face split into an expression of glee, despite his swollen eyes and nose. He looked at Charlie and said, “Well at least I didn’t ruin the Thanksgiving turkey!”

“Thanks, sis,” Charlie said.

We waved goodbye, and I asked Elliot if he wanted to take a walk on the beach. He nodded yes, so we walked across the stone path and through the front yard until our feet hit sand.

We were quiet for a long time, enjoying the cool lapping of the water at low tide as we walked.

I tested Elliot’s desire to be touched and reached for his hand.

“It’s okay if you want to pull away,” I said as his fingers curled around mine.

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

I wanted to ask him—I was burning to ask him something about last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It may have been that Elliot seemed to be relaxing again, or that I feared pulling him back to that dark place, but more likely, it was my own defense mechanisms wrapping their protective arms around me while I dealt with the weight of my unacknowledged I love you.

We walked in companionable silence, both of us lost in our thoughts until Elliot started talking about yesterday’s hack. We fell into an easy, safe conversation, and I found myself okay with that. I knew I couldn’t ignore the much more difficult conversation we needed to have forever, but what was the harm in letting Elliot have some time to process? Patience. That was what he needed right now.

When it started raining that afternoon, we decided to head back into the city a little early to beat the surge of Sunday traffic.  

We said goodbye to my family, and Elliot thanked them all for making him feel so welcome. I smiled as I watched him interact with my mom and my dad more easily than I could’ve ever dreamed.

Charlie and Elliot gave each other head nods, but the look of soft affection that passed between them made me smile.

And that soft moment was quickly replaced by yet another quiet moment of horror when Erin launched herself into Elliot’s arms, dramatically declaring that she’d die if she didn’t see him again before the end of summer.

Elliot patted her and stilled, waiting for her to release him, but when she leaned up and whispered something in his ear, he laughed, that same booming laugh from the night in the pool.

I found myself smiling like an idiot, again. Despite Jared’s broken nose and Elliot’s subsequent panic attack, the weekend was a true success.

Our drive back was quiet, music playing faintly on the radio as the rain splattered on the windshield of my SUV.

I stopped outside of Elliot’s building, the wipers a steady beat in the background as he pulled his backpack up to the front seat.

“I’m sure you’re ready for some alone time.”

“I like being with you,” Elliot offered.

I smiled, sadness still tugging at my heart, not just because of finally beginning to understand the depth of Elliot’s pain, but because it was clear he wasn’t ready to love me. Like me, just not love me. And I needed to figure out a way to be okay with that.

“Do you need help with any—”

“Thank you for—”

We looked at each other and laughed, one of those awkward laughs that happens when there’s just so much to unpack but you’re too tired and you just don’t want to yet.

“It’s just one bag. I can manage,” Elliot said.

“You’re welcome for the weekend,” I returned.

“I wasn’t going to thank you for the weekend. I wanted to,” Elliot paused and collected his thoughts, his eyes looking at my hand as it rested on the gear shift. “I wanted to thank you for what you said. It meant a lot. And it means a lot that you understood what I needed to hear and you were willing to say it to me, no matter if you didn’t mean it.”

“What?” I asked stupidly.

“I know you didn’t mean it. You were just being good to me. You’re always good to me.”

“Elliot,” I said firmly. “I would never tell someone I loved them if I didn’t mean it. Come on. You have to expect better from people—not people. From me. Expect better from me.”

Elliot looked at me, his mouth open in what looked like shock before he pulled in his bottom lip and bit it, his eyes blinking slowly.

“You meant it?”

“I still mean it.”

Elliot looked like he was about to short-circuit.

“Hey—hey,” I said, forcing him to meet my gaze as I lifted his chin. “We aren’t teenagers. I don’t need you to say it back just because I said it. And I’m not going to take it back because you didn’t say it back. I feel the way I feel and I’m so happy about it, El. And I hope you feel the same way someday. But that’s your decision, not mine. I’m not going to push you. I won’t say it again if you don’t want me—”

“I do,” Elliot said, his eyes burning into mine with their intensity, effectively cutting me off from my explanation. “I want you to say it when you feel it. If you mean it, I want you to say it. I’m just not ready—but you have no idea, fuck I don’t even have an idea really, how it makes me feel to know that you think—”

“Not think—”

“That you know how you feel and you feel that way about me.”

“Maybe if I say I love you enough, you’ll start believing it.”

Elliot closed his eyes as if he were memorizing the sound of my voice, memorizing the way the loaded word hung in the air.

“Can it be enough, for now, that you want to give it? Can I have time to figure out how to . . . process that?”

“Time as in we don’t see each other time, or time as in we just keep doing our thing and don’t talk about this for a while?”

Elliot smiled and replied, “The second thing you said. This weekend established an unrealistic expectation—every morning I woke up and it was next to you. Waking up tomorrow is going to be awful.”

“We could always move in together?” I said, wondering if Elliot would read the teasing that was dancing behind my eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. Are you trying to kill me?” he said with a huff of a laugh.

“Goodnight, Elliot. I’ll miss you.”

“Text me before you fall asleep,” he said as he leaned over the console, his voice low.

Elliot kissed me goodnight, his lips soft and warm as they moved against mine, his teeth pulling on my lower lip before he drew away.

By the time I opened my eyes, he was closing the passenger door. I opened the liftgate and he grabbed his bag, shutting the door firmly.

I watched him jog up the short steps to his building and duck inside, an ache that would someday become all too familiar took hold of my heart as I watched him disappear. 

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (part 48)

Author’s note: HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH! Have a new chapter of Infinitesimal to celebrate!

Warnings: injuries, illness, fear, food mention, suffocation mention, resisting sleep

Word count: 3272

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Logan stepped out of the living room and leaned against the kitchen wall for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. He knew that it would take a while for the two newcomers to warm up to him, especially with their respective injuries and their previous less-than-favorable experiences with humans; but Logan couldn’t help but be hurt by their fear, their dismissal, their aggression. Especially from Virgil, the one who had come to them for help in the first place. Emile’s fear was understandable—he’d woken up in a strange place, injured, to find himself being taken care of by people who could easily hold him in only one hand. While Logan also understood the reasons for Virgil’s behavior—he was no doubt aggressive out of fear, and fearful out of a feeling of helplessness—it bothered the normally calm and collected student. Logan always tried to act neutral and in control, but that didn’t mean he actually didn’t feel emotions, that he wasn’t affected by what happened. He wanted the “mouse-men” to like him.

At least Patton seemed to be warming up to them. He’d had more experience with Logan and Roman than either of his companions had. Perhaps it was getting through to him that the roommates truly meant him no harm. While they—okay, perhaps Logan more than Roman—had made mistakes, several mistakes, they had never hurt Patton. They had helped him. They had saved him. The “mouse-man” had even been allowed to leave when he was well enough (as painful of a memory that night was for Logan). While Patton was still nervous around them, it seemed that, in the months that had passed since that night, he had had time to reflect on his experience; and he seemed to have come to decide that they really did mean well. He’d even allowed Roman to carry him a few days ago. That was no small show of trust. Logan couldn’t imagine willingly stepping into the hand of someone so much larger than himself.

Standing there in the kitchen, Logan adjusted his glasses. It was a sort of reset for him, a signifier that the moment had passed. The “mouse-men” had been taken care of, and it was time to check on his roommate. He could go back to their guests afterward.

He made his way through the kitchen and down the hallway, stopping once he reached the correct door. It was plain white other than a single, six-inch tall wooden R in curly script, painted in glittery gold paint. Logan knocked three times, then opened the door.

Before he even saw his roommate, he heard the characteristically shallow, wheezing breaths he got whenever his asthma was giving him trouble. Roman himself was lying in bed, under a heap of blankets. He was looking up at the ceiling, where his fan spun slowly. That seemed somewhat contradictory, but Roman had claimed in the past that having the air moving felt like it helped. Logan didn’t see how that could be the case, but he wasn’t the one with asthma.

When Logan stepped into the room, Roman looked over and grinned, lifting up one hand to wave.

Logan pulled up Roman’s desk chair and sat down beside him. “Hello,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh… you know,” Roman said between somewhat labored breaths, “I’m great.”

Logan frowned at him for a second. He knew Roman probably felt quite unwell. “You have your inhaler?” he checked. “And your phone?”

“Yep,” Roman said. He glanced toward the bedside table. His phone and inhaler sat there, along with a few knick-knacks and a small box that Logan knew was filled with small, colored rocks. The idea behind the box was that if something happened and Roman couldn’t use his phone or call out for help, he could knock it over, and the sound would alert Logan to his plight. Logan wasn’t sure if Roman would be able to push it off the table if he were ever really in such a state; but he’d thankfully never had to try it. The box was just a safety net of sorts, a reassurance meant to make both Roman and Logan feel better whenever Roman’s asthma acted up.

It didn’t matter. Roman was only having a little trouble breathing. He simply needed to take it easy for a while, avoid the cold weather, and he would be fine.

Logan reached over and plugged the charger into Roman’s phone for him. “So,” he said casually, “Patton asked after you.”

Roman stared at him for a beat, then pushed himself into a sitting-up position. “He did?” He sounded stunned.

Logan nodded. “He wanted to know why he hadn’t seen you in a while. He asked if you were well.”

Roman’s eyes lit up at the news, giddy and almost disbelieving; but his voice was cautious as he asked, “What’d… you tell him?”

“I informed them of your asthma, and that you should be well again soon.”

Roman frowned. “Do they even know what… asthma is?”

“It doesn’t seem so,” Logan admitted, remembering the horror on Virgil’s face at the idea that Roman couldn’t breathe. “I explained it, at least generally.”

Roman nodded. A few seconds passed, and then he announced, “I’m… gonna go see them.”

“No, you will not,” Logan argued, his tone firm. “You will rest here, and recover faster that way. ”

“Well,” Roman said innocently, tilting his head like a puppy, “what if I have to pee?”

Logan put a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “Of course you can get up to use the bathroom, Roman, as long as you’re careful; don’t be ridiculous—”

Roman smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Then if… I’m up anyway, what if… I just so happen… to go in there…?”

“Roman,” Logan sighed. “No.”

He pouted up at him. “You’re supposed… to be nice to me,” he whined. He coughed twice pathetically. “I’m sick.” It was clearly a reference to Mean Girls, a film which Logan’s roommate had insisted on showing him some months before on the grounds that it was “a classic” and it was “a travesty” that he hadn’t seen it sooner.

Roman’s second cough turned into a very real wheeze, but Logan just gave him an unimpressed look.

“Well…” Roman said, still pouting, “if you’re not going to… let me see them, tell me… how are they?”

“Emile seems to be improving,” Logan shared. “He and his brother are both still quite fearful and uncomfortable in my presence, however.”

“They’ll warm up to you,” Roman assured.

“I hope so,” Logan said. “It would be ideal if they were not so uncomfortable the entire time that they are in our apartment.”

Roman shrugged. “I think they’re just… worried about Emile, you know? And… something must have happened… to Mr. Dark-and-Gloomy, too. It’s no wonder… he’s scared.”

“Of course,” Logan said. “And… I know that.” He thought of Virgil’s partially missing tail, of his crutches, before continuing on to a lighter thought. “Patton at least seems to have grown more fond of us. You especially.”

“Well, of course… he has,” Roman said with a grin. “What’s not to like? I’m great.” He broke off then to cough, the sound grating on Logan’s eardrums. He winced, leaning back in his chair.

When Roman recovered, Logan said, “We should purchase you a more insulating coat. It should help prevent difficulties like this in the future.”

“My coat’s fine. Besides,” he pointed out, “it’s not gonna warm the air… I breathe….That’s in my lungs.”

Logan sighed again, but he had to admit that Roman had a point. “Then perhaps, instead, we can obtain a scarf for you. If you wrap it over your mouth and nose, it will warm the air that you breathe.”

Roman gave him a falsely injured look, putting a hand over his chest. “Whaaaat?” he cried softly. “That’ll just… suffocate me faster. You’re… trying to trick me, aren’t you? You want to get rid of me? And here I thought you liked me. I’m… wonderful to be around… I’ll have you know.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Roman liked to fool around. “Obviously you will not wrap it that tight. It will not be thick enough to obstruct your breathing.”

Roman laughed softly. “Okay, Maybe. But you do like me?” He stuck out his lower lip and gave him a look that said, “You have to say yes, I’m sick!”

Logan let out a world-weary sigh. “Clearly I hold some fond feelings for you, to have put up with your company as long as I have.”

“Aww,” Roman said, his smile widening. “That’s so sweet.”

“Yes, yes, very sweet,” Logan said. “I’ll get you some water, if you’re done.”

“Never,” he promised.

“I would expect no different.”

…

Patton carefully cut the last bit of the fabric. Emile’s new shirt was done. He picked up the garment and shook it out, looking it over appraisingly.

“What do you think?” he asked, holding it up higher for Virgil and Emile to see.

“Looks perfect,” Virgil said, nodding in approval. He grabbed up the extra fabric and balled it together, shoving it off to the side.

Together, they helped Emile sit up, and they slipped the garment over his head like a poncho. The collar of it was very wide, so they avoided the bandages on his head easily. Rather than sleeves, the shirt had strips of fabric on either side that they tied under Emile’s arms.

“Is it cozy enough?” Patton asked as they helped him lean back against the blankets. Virgil repositioned his arm at his side, careful not to bother his shoulder too much.

Emile nodded, starting to look drowsy again.

“How are you feeling?” Virgil asked.

Emile sighed at the question, justifiably tired of hearing it by now. He picked at one of the blankets lying in his lap, then admitted, “Lot better, actually.”

Patton knew that Emile probably would have answered that way whether he actually felt better or not, but he was inclined to believe him. He really did seem better. He was clean, he was in an outfit that wasn’t torn or stained or repeatedly patched, and he’d eaten more than half of his banana slice, which was more food than he’d managed at any other meal so far since his accident.

Virgil clearly believed him, too. Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he reached over to tuck the blankets more securely around his brother.

…

Logan walked back to Roman’s room, holding a bottle of water. He knocked a few times, then opened the door.

“Greetings!” Roman called. He was sitting up now, his knees folded and his phone propped up against them, watching a video.

“Salutations,” Logan replied. He unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and set it on the nightstand. “Make sure you take it easy,” he reminded, glancing at the phone.

“Oh, relax, Pocket Protector… it’s just a movie.” He leaned his head back against the pillows and looked up at Logan. “I’m not running any marathons.”

“I should hope not,” Logan said. “That would worsen your condition considerably. You should stay here, in bed.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, like he wasn’t sure if Logan was joking or not. As if on cue, someone in the movie he’d been watching laughed loudly, and they both glanced at the phone. Roman reached out and paused the video.

“Thanks for the water,” Roman said.

“Of course. Do you need anything more?”

There was a pause, and Logan knew he’d made a mistake.

“Anything?” Roman repeated, raising an eyebrow and smiling faintly.

“Within reason,” Logan quickly amended.

“Is a pegasus within reason?”

“No.”

“What about a 20-page essay… on why I’m the best roommate?”

“No.”

“Ten-page?”

“Still, no.”

“Aw.” Roman snapped his fingers. “I suppose I’m good, then.”

“Good night, Roman.”

Logan stepped out, the sound of Roman’s wheezing breaths disappearing behind the closed door. He turned and walked back to the living room.

…

Right on time, there was a quiet knock at the doorway. Patton turned around, and there was Logan, waiting to be invited in.

Patton hesitantly waved hello, which Logan seemed to interpret as his invitation. He stepped through the doorway and approached, stopping halfway to the table where the littles sat.

“Hello, again,” he said. “Are you finished with dinner?”

Virgil glanced at where the bottle caps were already lined up at the edge of the table, then raised an eyebrow at Logan.

Logan nodded, seeming to acknowledge that the answer to his question had been obvious. He stepped nearer and bent to pick up the dishes. “What about Emile’s tail?” he asked. “Did you perform the test, as I asked? Was there any change?"

“He can feel it,” Virgil said, watching Logan closely.

“Kind of,” Patton added, more softly.

Logan nodded. “Any improvement is excellent news,” he said. “With luck, that improvement will continue. I am hopeful that it will, as long as he continues to rest and not aggravate the injury.” He seemed to address that last part at Virgil, probably well aware that Virgil wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Patton understood that it would be a while before Emile would get to go home, as much as he wished otherwise. He hoped that Emile would keep getting better. His little family had been through so much. He wanted them all to be well again, or as well as they could be. It was what his friends deserved.

“Do any of you require anything else before I retire for the night?” Logan asked.

Patton and Virgil looked at each other. Patton had just started to shake his head when he heard a noise at his side. Emile, who had been silently watching up until that moment, shakily cleared his throat. Everyone stilled, and Emile spoke.

…

Logan had been about to leave, ready to turn in for the night, when a small voice gave him pause. Emile, for the first time since the laundry room, spoke to him. He didn’t stammer, but his voice was so soft and hesitant that Logan had to strain to make out the words.

“Can you make the noise stop?” he asked.

Logan drew his eyebrows together. He glanced to Virgil and Patton for an explanation, but they looked no less confused. They had turned to look at Emile with concern in their eyes.

“What noise?” Logan asked slowly.

Emile simply batted gently at his left ear with his uninjured hand, looking miserable. Whatever noise he was referring to, it must have been really bothering him.

Suddenly, realization struck Logan. Of course.

“Is it a whining noise?” he asked. “High-pitched, constant, or nearly so?”

Emile nodded.

It was possible that the “mouse-men” could hear frequencies higher than Logan’s ears were capable of, but the fact that Virgil and Patton didn’t seem to be able to hear the noise that Emile referred to pointed to another explanation. Logan took a brief moment to collect his thoughts and to try to make sure he worded them in a way that wouldn’t alarm the “mouse-men”.

“I believe you may be experiencing something called tinnitus,” he began. “It is a ringing in the ears, often caused by exposure to loud sounds, or, as would be in your case, head injuries. In itself, tinnitus is not harmful, although it can be annoying.” Logan tried for a sympathetic look here. (He really did feel sympathetic, but conveying that feeling was less simple.)

Virgil didn’t look overly reassured at the news, and Patton bit his lip. “Can—can we fix it?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

“It may disappear on its own,” Logan said, “as his injury heals.”

“May disappear?” Virgil echoed. “What if it doesn’t?”

Emile’s expression grew more distressed.

“There is every chance that it will,” Logan said. “It is most likely, in fact. But, even if it doesn’t, tinnitus is manageable.” He glanced briefly towards Emile, trying to be comforting. “If it is bothering you significantly at the moment, perhaps I could put on some music. Would that help? I have some classical CDs that I myself find quite soothing while studying. They should help drown out the sound and help you relax.”

Emile’s bravery seemed to have run out, and he didn’t answer. Virgil leaned in to whisper to him, and Patton rubbed his arm reassuringly. Finally, Virgil turned to Logan, and nodded once, stiffly.

Logan took his cue and went to get his CD player.

…

Getting settled that night took longer than usual. Patton initially went to lie down on the opposite side of the box; but Virgil, remembering his nightmares the night before, invited Patton to lie on top of the box lid with him instead. It was a somewhat tight fit. They started out lying each on his side, Patton snuggled into Virgil’s back, but Patton didn’t seem happy with that. They shifted around for a while, and eventually, they settled on a better arrangement: Virgil lay on his back on the box lid, his right arm hanging down into the box where Emile lay, holding onto his hand. Patton lay on his side, partially on top of Virgil. He’d apologized about it, but Virgil found the pressure to be kind of nice. They piled on some blankets, and Virgil was unexpectedly comfortable. Weariness washed over him, but he didn’t plan to fall asleep. Someone had to keep watch, after all.

Patton soon relaxed against Virgil, his breathing slowing. Emile hadn’t moved in a while, probably already asleep. The soft, classical music coming from the CD player that Logan had set up on another table—the table Patton had used to be kept on, in fact—helped fill the silence of the room around them. Virgil could tell why the human liked it. It was quite soothing to listen to.

Unfortunately, the music, combined with the pressure of Patton lying against him, the comfort of his and his brother’s presence, and the warmth of both Patton and the blankets piled on top of them, were all working against Virgil’s effort to stay awake and keep watch.

The music on the CD changed slightly, a different song beginning. Virgil realized his eyes were closed. He opened them again, with a small amount of effort. He shifted his grip on Emile’s hand minutely.

A voice, barely audible at his side, breathed, “Go to sleep.” Emile was awake after all.

“Is that noise any better?” Virgil asked, his voice just as soft, shamelessly changing the subject. Logan had said the music would help, but Virgil wanted to hear it from his brother.

“Mhm,” Emile confirmed without opening his eyes. “Now go to sleep.”

“I’m keeping watch.”

Patton shifted with a small sound, snuggling against Virgil’s shoulder in his sleep. Virgil’s throat tightened.

“No,” Emile mumbled. “Sleep time.”

“I’ll sleep in the morning.”

“Now,” Emile insisted.

“We’re with humans,” Virgil reminded him. It wasn’t that he wanted to scare Emile. But he needed to remember that they couldn’t let their guard down.

“If they were gonna do ’nything,” Emile said, finally opening one eye to look at Virgil, “They’d have done it by now.”

Virgil sighed.

“Go to sleep,” Emile repeated, closing his eye.

Silence fell between them, and the room was quiet again other than the soft music drifting from the other side of the room. Patton had stilled once more, pleasantly heavy against Virgil’s side. Against his better judgement, Virgil found himself relaxing, just a little bit, in that moment. It was enough. Before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep.

[wasalwaysagreatpickle]

Sunday 28 August 1831

5 55/..

10 50/..

Out at 7 at which hour Fahrenheit 67˚ and fine morning – sauntered along my walk and the new Lower Brea road to Mr Samuel Washington’s – waited 10 minutes till he was ready – then walked down to look at the slopes of the Lower Brea road which I named my intention of planting – he thought the commissioners would [want] something paying for them – no! when they had walled off the road the slopes would be mine, and I was not therefore inclined to pay anything for them – he at last acknowledged they would be mine – and there being hope of the road being opened in spring, I said I would put off the planting till afterwards – next year –

Then overtook George Robinson on the road – the footpath through Well Royde wood to be set out by Washington tomorrow morning at 8 – then along the Brighouse road till turned down to Yew Trees wood – examined the quarry and went all along the bottom of the wood – the wall on both sides the lane explained as agreed upon with Thomas Pearson junior – then from our own gates went into the Cunnery wood sent 2 men out of it – home at 10 1/2 – found 4 letters on my desk – From Mr Lawton of York with bill of charges for my will £13.13.8 – 

Long kind letter 3pp. and ends and top of page 1 written across from Mrs Norcliffe, Langton dated Friday 26th instant – she and Charlotte going a little ‘tour to Rokeby, Penrith by Keswick to Cockermouth, and Whitehaven, and must be back by the 19th’ - … ‘write to me if before September 6, Post office, Whitehaven’ – my boots from Rutter to be sent off as this evening – Isabella Norcliffe has paid for them – she to be off for Croft on her way to Scotland on Thursday – Hurried letter 2 widely written pp. from Mariana Lawton Friday 26th August – Charles better than she expected ‘though sadly cut up’ – .. ‘John has literally died a beggar…. the money given for Spurfield debts is gone, and the bills yet unpaid, the entire support of widow and 6 children must devolve on Charles – but the greatest of all the disappointments is that Mr Wood has lost the living, my being absent at the time has been a most unfortunate business, and I shall for the sake of others deeply and long lament it’ – thinks advantage has been taken of Charles’s state of depressed spirits to hurry him to a conclusion – William Ford has got the living for his son - … ‘we go to Leamington on Tuesday to the Royal hotel, and remain there I know not how long or how short a time’ – 

Letter too 2 half sheets full, with 1 page and 2 ends of envelope from Lady Gordon, 34 Hertford Street, Friday 26th August franked by her brother-in-law Mr Frankland Lewis – ‘this letter is just like yourself, sensible, agreeable and to the purpose my affairs are still under discussion and till Monday or Tuesday next I can say nothing decidedly’! her own feeling is that she ‘must go – but not in such haste – could you be in London about the 10th or 12th September and be ready to start by land for Spain on the 14th or 15th – If I go my idea is – to take Georgiana’ ….. and leave Alice with one of her (Lady Gordon’s) sisters – ‘to remain in Spain till next spring or summer – when once I had completed my Cadiz business I should be entirely yours as to where to go, or what to do – the blessing you would be to me is not to be told etc. etc. would like me to get in London a thorough understanding of the business she is [going] that I may better know how to help her to decide – Lady Stuart de Rothesay at the lodge – has written to her to know if Miss Hobart will go abroad or not this winter, and telling Lady Stuart de Rothesay her (Lady Gordon’s) ‘possible plans’ – the reason she seemed in such a hurry to be off in her last letter was because the man going out to buy or bid for her property at Cadiz was thought to be going by the 6th of September packet – but it seems is not going till October and this gives her a month longer – the voyage will be 8 or 10 days – no preparations required but ‘mosquito nets, and a case with a few knives and forks, sheets and towels, and a glass or 2 – a black mantilla and a few yards of black silk or fine bombazeen’ – To leave all about carriages and servants till next week when she hopes ‘to write without a doubt’ ….. ‘Should you prefer going by sea and returning by land? Taking one carriage only out in the steamer? – has let her house to Mr Vaughan from the 17th September – 

I must think of all this – the one carriage taken out would be mine, which would cost £30 I should suppose i.e. one half more than my own passage – say £30 and £20 and Cameron £20 and a man servant £15 and ten days living at £10.10.0 that would = £95.10.10 Take the distance from Calais by Paris and  Bayonne to Cadiz at 300 postes, at 6 1/2 from per poste, and therefore suppose postage 2000 francs, suppose 30 days for the journey at 25 francs per day self and 2 servants for living = 750 francs – then I should look after things in Paris, Travel in comfort, and see a great deal of the country for 2750 francs and £10? from London to Calais = £120 or for 20, or 25 £ more than by sea – So far, good – But the chances are 10 to one we should be robbed near Madrid or before or after or both! Il faut y purser – then I must have a passport exprès, to allow me to carry about as much and whatever money I like, to make written notes, to be armed, have an escort if I demand it, and let my carriage pass the frontiers duty free – 

Breakfast at 11 – Read my aunt all my letters except Lady Gordon’s, and read extracts from that 

Saying Lady Gordon had business in Spain but not saying what – 

Thought of staying a day or 2 longer here – Read the whole of the morning service and 1 of Mr James Knight’s [discussion] on the parables – then slept 1/2 hour and came upstairs at 1 20/.. – looking at maps and writing the above of today till 3 1/2 – then till 5 wrote 3pp. to Mariana (rather a good deal in them) and 1 page of 1/2 sheet paper to Cameron to say circumstances had occurred which would delay my leaving here for four or five days – if she had taken her place, must lose the 1/2 fare – shall hear from me again the day before I wish her to be off, but to hold herself in readiness – glad to hear from Langton very good accounts of all the family in the minster court – to apologize for my directing to her there – do not know how to direct to her at Miss Pearson’s – Tell Mariana to tell Watson to get me the stockings ordered for Madame Galvani or I must go without them – grieved more than I can tell that Mariana has so much reason to lament our tour – ‘But, Mary, who could foresee what was in the womb of time, and coming thus speedily to the birth? nor you, nor I, dreamed of what awaited us, or both had hurried home’ – 

Letter from Lady Gordon this morning who cannot fix decidedly till tomorrow or Tuesday ‘that it will still be 4 or 5 days before we can make our final arrangements’ Shall be off however as soon as I can – ‘To prolong my stay much, would now be peculiarly uncomfortable to myself as well as to Marian; and at all rates, I shall make all the haste I can’ – If they stay a week at Leamington shall hope to catch them – now think of being off from here tomorrow week, but want time [cut]. Mariana to go to Liverpool and back by steam – ‘I suppose I could do this, and still be at Leamington on Tuesday week by nine or 10 at night, at latest’ – mention Mrs Norcliffe’s having heard I was going to Paris with Lady Stuart – Charles would surely not have given the living to Mr Ford’s son, had he preferred giving it to Mr Wood – ‘as there was no Lawton for it, what strikes me as most to be regretted is, that any very young man should have it – I fear I should have thought, the next incumbent ought to be 60 at least’ – 

A little at my accounts – Dinner at 6 5/.. in 25 minutes for Mr Briggs waiting with my father and the rest – then had him in for 1 1/4 hour till I had thoroughly talked over all I had to say to him – about [Kerton’s] lease – not signed – desired the man to be told that if he did not sign before the 2nd of August next, he should have notice to quit – gave Mr Briggs the estimate for cellar and 2 chambers over it at Hardcastle’s £20 and £5 already paid by Mallinson and still owing to him for the drain that is made – spoke about Lower Brea mill, and the notice to Emmet about spoiling the black brook with the [canker] water from the colliery he is making – and about Benjamin Bottomley’s farm letting and the pew at Saint James’s for Whitley – and about planting the Lower Brea slopes and Godley Road ditto and about filling up Cunnery wood with 2000 oaks, and filling up Freeman’s quarry entirely with oaks and about the willow stakes to keep up the Tilley Holm and Dolt railing -

(Came to my room at 8 5/.. – Mr Briggs went at 7 55/..) Sent off at 8 10/60 by George my letter to ‘Mrs Lawton, Lawton Hall, Lawton, Cheshire’ and to ‘Mrs Cameron, Mrs Belcombe’s, Minster-Court, York’ – wrote the last 7 lines – then a little at my accounts again and went down at 10 1/4 – came back to my room at 10 1/4 – fine day – rainy evening after about 7 1/2 and windy – Fahrenheit 68˚ now at 10 1/4 p.m. -

[azookiex3]

A Devil’s Love: Chapter 5

AN: I'm sorry this chapter came so late! I've been busy on Twitter with #LuciferSeason6 , and I really only write when I'm in work and the owner's second hand is starting to crack down on phone use again. As an extra treat for you all: I've made a Spotify playlist for this story! Please read the playlist's description because I'm one of those mental people who actually organized the songs. You'll learn a lot about Earth & Lucifer's future relationship, as well as more about Earth! Enjoy!

Earth & Her Devil Playlist

AO3 , Fanfiction Net , Wattpad

Warnings: Swearing

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Despite you being extremely nervous about having Lucifer, of all people, take care of you, the drive from the hospital to LUX was pleasant.

Lucifer followed all traffic laws. He even went five miles per hour under the posted speed to ensure you didn't bump around too much. He also picked up on your "outing" that music calms you, so he plays the radio at a reasonable volume to an alternative pop station.

The song "Devil Devil" by MILCK starts to play, and you hum along.

"You're going to have to sing it, darling."

"What?" You look over at him and get a bit defensive, "Why?"

"As your nurse I have to make sure your lungs are all right, since I'm sure you won't let me rest my head on your chest for a listen," he looks at you sideways and gives a cheeky grin, "or let me kiss you until your breath gives out for a test."

"Well, you're right about that." You look straight ahead at the road and wish you could cross your arms effectively.

"Then sing." You sigh loudly and stay quiet. You decide to sing the last part of the song to please your "nurse", but also because you couldn't resist any longer.

You take the shape of

Everything that I'm drawn to

You take the shape of

Everything that I'm drawn to

But your eyes

Are dead and red, red as rust

Do not try me Devil, Devil

Cannot buy me Devil, Devil

You won't make a fool of me, oh no

What makes you so special, special

To think I would ever settle

For that devious dance between me and The Devil, Devil

You look over at him when the song ends and give him an eyebrow raise, "Does that satisfy you, my nurse?"

"Perfectly." His wide smile and gleaming eyes are trained on the road.

For the next fifteen minutes of the ride you and Lucifer sing along to the radio. You hum towards the end because your throat started screaming for water.

The calm atmosphere of the car ride is abruptly cut when Lucifer pulls into his parking garage.

You two pass by the part of the garage where your car exploded. The damage to the garage was fixed with new cement. The area where your car was parked was still surrounded with crime tape, but your car was gone and there was a clean up crew. You also pass by Agent Monroe who was getting the footage inside the security office.

When Lucifer felt the air change around you he grabbed your left hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. He parks his car in his spot, then releases your hand and steps out of the car. He steps over to your side and opens the door, but you don't move. You're still frozen from the memory of the explosion.

"I can carry you if you'd like." He leans down and whispers in your ear.

That snaps you out of it, "What?"

He chuckles, happy to have you back, "I know you feel safe in my arms." He winks at you.

"Just get me my crutches, Lucifer." You pull your legs over the side of the car.

"Come now, darling. You let me push you once, so how about you let me carry you once?"

"You already did when-"

"Yes, yes let's not bring that back up. Doesn't count anyway. You were, well," he stops himself then looks at you with the saddest puppy eyes you ever saw on a man, "Please?"

"Ugh." You sigh up to the ceiling, then look over to the side trying to hide the blush forming, "Fine." You barely audit out.

Lucifer doesn't even reply, and in a blink of an eye he has you in his arms bridal style and walking towards the elevator. You refuse to meet his eyes when he looks down with a smile, but you do admit to yourself that you do feel safer...for some reason.

Thank God no one is seeing this.

The elevator bings and the doors open up to the penthouse, "Where would you like to go, darling?"

"I actually want to rest for a bit," you answer truthfully. These emotions and memories from that night were draining you a considerable amount.

He starts walking towards his bedroom.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" You say, "Don't you have another room?!"

"Just Maze's old room, but her mattress is much too firm. Little demon likes it rough." He smiles down at you, "My bed is much softer."

"But-"

"Not uh, darling." Lucifer puts his finger on your lips and you freeze, "Only the best for my patient." He continues the walk. When you two arrive he pulls his sheet aside and lays you down on his bed.

"Oh…" you cover your mouth with your hand as your face heats up. Lucifer just laughs.

His bed is very soft, but not too soft that you instantly sink down.

He pulls his sheet over you, and you have to force yourself to keep from nuzzling into the soft fabric.

Lucifer kneels down in front of your face, "I'll wake you in an hour or two. Doctor said these bandages have to come off soon so you can wash yourself and get fresh ones."

"Mmm," you hum a reply, your eyes already drooping.

Lucifer chuckles again and gives you a soft kiss on your head, "Rest well, K9."

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"You still haven't fished anything up yet?" Lucifer talks on his phone to Maze as he walks back to his car to get your belongings.

"These FBI ticks are real pains in the ass, Lucifer." Maze responds agitated.

"Guess I'll have to pull the Devil charm on them." Lucifer frowns at the crutches in his backseat. Anger refueling a bit.

"I doubt their 'desire' would be to tell you whatever they know."

"Come now, Maze. I can get anything out of any human." He slings the duffle bag over his shoulder and holds the crutches under his arm.

"Well if you find this guy before me you better let me know! I want to kick his ass, too."

"Devil of my word, dear." Lucifer hangs up and starts back to the elevator.

"Mr. Morningstar!" Lucifer looks behind him and sees that FBI agent, Mr. Monroe, walk towards him.

"And here I thought you were done with me." Lucifer tells the man as he approached.

"I thought I should give you my card." Agent Monroe pulls a business card from his suit pocket and hands it to Lucifer.

Lucifer takes it and eyes it, "And why would I need this?"

"Just in case you learn of anything, or if anything happens here during Miss. Earth's stay."

Lucifer raises a brow at the man, "Are you expecting something to happen, Mr. FBI Agent?"

"Not in my hopes at all, Mr. Morningstar. Just a precaution. If need be I can provide extra security-"

"K9 doesn't need your protection." Lucifer stands full height at the man in intimidation. He smiles at the human, "She has the Devil watching over her."

"Of course." Agent Monroe takes a small step back and bids Lucifer farewell.

"Hmph." Lucifer huffs at the man's back and continues back on track to the elevator. He crumbles the card and throws it in a trash can.

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The sound of nearby running water makes your throat scream, reminding you that you forgot to ask for a drink before the nap.

You stretch on Lucifer's soft bed and squint your eyes open. You see from the wall of windows that the sun is now setting and that Lucifer left you a glass of water on the nightstand. You slowly lift yourself up and grab the cup.

"Good evening, darling!" Lucifer comes from his closet with a smile, holding your crutches. You hum in acknowledgement and thanks as you down the water.

"My shower is running lukewarm water to the Doctor's orders, sorry." He lightly chuckles at the inward groan you make. Lukewarm showers were basically cold, and you hated cold showers.

Stupid burns.

Lucifer positions the crutches on either side of your arms when you finish the water. You grab onto them as Lucifer helps you on your feet. Once you've achieved a balance you head to his bathroom in his much too large closet.

Seriously, how many expensive suits and shoes does one guy need?

You step into his bathroom that's as big as his closet. The decor was the same sleek black with hints of brown and gold. To your left was the largest double vanity set you've ever seen. Each sink was accompanied by their own large antique mirrors on the wall. To the right you saw he actually has two toilets and they had their own little room with doors. Straight ahead almost the entire wall was his shower, with the right corner housing a large jacuzzi tub.

"You look like you have many questions about my washroom, my dear." Lucifer laughs at your various facial expressions as you take in the room.

"I do, but considering your lifestyle and just how many people you bring up here, it all makes sense."

"Smart woman."

You walk further in and just now notice that Lucifer had laid out your pajamas on the vanity, as well as all your bathroom essentials around a sink. He even brought one of his dining chairs in for you to sit on so you wouldn't have to walk all the way to one of the toilets.

Lucifer motions you over to the chair and you sit, leaning your crutches against the vanity. Lucifer starts unbandaging your left arm.

He looks at your already scabbed up arms quizzically, "Do burns usually heal this quickly on you humans?" He asks as he undoes the right arm bandage.

"Don't think so. Ever doctor I see are always surprised by my healing rate. Their only explanation for me is that it must be something genetic."

"And you have no idea if that's true because you have no recollection of your parents?"

"Yup." You reply as you raise your now free arms slightly in the air and work your fingers and elbows.

Lucifer kneels and undoes the bandage knot at your left ankle. You allow him to untie it up to your kneecap before you stop him, "I can do the rest from here." Lucifer just pouts at you and you raise your brow in a pointed look that said "you really think I'd let you go all the way up". He starts at the right ankle as you finish up the left side.

"Need me to help you get undressed, or help scrub you up?" Lucifer smiles flirtatiously down at you as you finish the right leg.

You smile genuinely and shake your head before looking up at him, "You already know my answer to that, Lucifer."

"Can't blame a Devil for trying." He walks over to his shower and opens the glass door for you, so all you have to do is hop on in with your crutches, "Scream my name seductively if you need me." He winks at you then leaves the bathroom, closing the door.

You catch yourself smiling at the door before shaking your head to snap out of it.

You slowly stand. You lean against the vanity as you slowly put more and more weight on your feet. Satisfied you wouldn't fall, you remove your shorts and place them on the vanity. Both hands go to opposite bottom corners of your tshirt and you lift up-

"Hello there!"

You push your shirt back down and slam back onto the chair, biting your cheek to keep the pain from such fast movement from your blushing face. You grab your shorts and lay them on your lap, covering yourself the best you can.

"LUCIFER!"

"Oh drat, I was hoping to catch you in your bra as well. Oh well, those lovely lacey boy shorts will have to do." He winks at you from the bathroom door.

"What do you want, Lucifer?!"

"Oh, just popping in to ask what you'd like for dinner." He answers nonchalantly.

You give him dagger eyes, "You couldn't have asked me before you left?"

His shrug is such a big fat lie, "I forgot."

"Liar." You hiss.

He just smiles devilishly at you, "Sooo?"

"I don't care, Lucifer. Surprise me. Now get the hell out!"

"Alright, dear. I promise I won't enter again without you asking me to." He nods his head then closes the door once more. After waiting a minute to make sure he was gone, you grab your crutches and hobble your way to the door, locking it.

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The shower took a bit longer than you expected. Not only did you have to go slow to make sure you didn't peel the scabs too soon, and boy was that hard while in that freezing water, but it was hard to not think about all the women and men who have probably showered here. Plus knowing you had to sit in the very spot where a lot of…of stuff had mostly likely happened and came out, was very distracting.

Once you were completely dried, clothed, and hair had been thoroughly combed you crutch your way out of the bathroom.

Stepping around the corner into the entryway of Lucifer's bedroom you see that Lucifer had set up two trays on his couch. From what you could see from your viewpoint were two black cereal bowls that held something white, and two small white bowls that held an assortment of cut fruit. Each table also had their own drink, one had whiskey and the other had what you hoped was water and not vodka.

Lucifer puts some silverware on the trays then turns around. When he sees you he gives a wide smile and gestures to the food, "Dinner is ready, my dear!"

You go over to stand next to him and look down at the trays. What was in the black bowls was ice cream.

"Ice cream? Really?" You look up at him with a smirk on your face.

"You disapprove?"

"Of course not it's friggin' ice cream, but why?"

"Apparently a good thing for patients to eat after spending time in the hospital is fresh fruit, dairy and protein. You seem like the kind of woman who would skip right to dessert after leaving that dreadful building."

You raise a brow at him. He's right, but you hide the feeling of how he seemed to already know you from your face. You couldn't tell what that feeling in your chest was.

"And how do you know what's good to eat after a hospital? Experience?"

"Hardly. I, how you humans say, 'googled it'."

You burst into laughter, "You're taking this nurse thing really seriously."

"Why wouldn't I? I truly do want to make sure you heal fully."

You stop laughing when you hear the seriousness in his tone. You look up at him and see no humor in his eyes. Instead you see the look of worry in a man who thinks he's guilty.

You hold onto his hand in a comforting way, "I'm fine, Lucifer, and I do very much appreciate what your doing for me right now. So please, stop thinking that what happened is somehow your fault." He looks into your eyes and gives a small smile, giving your hand a small squeeze in response.

You smile, satisfied, "Now let's dig into dinner-ssert already."

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You wake up to the morning LA sun streaming through the penthouse's wall of windows. You stretch your entire body out on Lucifer's bed, and reviled in the aftermath of having the best sleep of your life.

Last night with Lucifer was actually pretty fun. As you two were eating he turned the tv on to some comedy channel. "Laughter is the best medicine I'm told" he had said. You two had enjoyed some friendly banter while also making fun of the comedians bad jokes. When midnight rolled around he noticed your struggle to keep your eyes open. He turned off the tv and helped you up off the couch and sent you to bed, like a good nurse.

You stretch your arms above you to take in the damage. You told Lucifer that it was best not to wrap up your arms and legs. Since the wounds were already scabbing it was best to let nature's air do its thing. And you were right, a lot of the scabs on your arms were already ready to come off.

Don't know what it is about my body, but damn if I'm not always grateful for fast healing.

The urge to pick them off was strong, but you knew that would be incredibly rude and disgusting to do on Lucifer's bed.

You rise to a sitting position and turn to the side of the bed. You stand up slowly to test pressure on your feet. Thankfully, it felt that you were able to walk on your own now, but only as a slow walk/wobble. The wounds on your feet and ankles still weren't fully healed yet.

Maybe I should at least wrap them up.

You waddle your way into the bathroom and run into-

"Butt." You stand stone still in the doorframe. Eyes wide, you take in Lucifer's naked body as he stands in front of a sink brushing his teeth.

He rinses his mouth then turns his head to you, "Good morning to you as well, K9!" He says with a shit eating grin, "Like what you see?"

You believe your body has turned as red as a lobster. You quickly turn around and give him your back, "Why are you naked?!" You ask his closet.

"I sleep naked." He replies so damn nonchalantly.

"Well can you please put some clothes on!"

You hear him sigh, "You know, I'm getting a serious case of deja vu right now. Are you sure you and the Detective aren't related?"

"Lucifer."

"Fine fine." You hear some shuffling behind you, "Alright, I'm all covered. Promise." You turn slowly around and see that Lucifer has wrapped a towel around his waist. He's facing you with a motion of his hands that says "all good now". You take in a breath of relief and Lucifer scoffs, "I'll never understand why you humans fear seeing your own kind naked."

You were going to reply to him, but he turned around.

And you saw his back.

Those scars…

You could faintly hear Lucifer call out to you as you fell to the ground. You couldn't see the real world anymore. Visions of what you think are memories you've forgotten flash by.

He stands before you. His white wings hinted with gold. Dressed in armor with a sword at his hip, he addresses you, "He has heard you and has sent me to give you what you seek." His voice was booming. Deep and rough. Not kind.

Your body screams at you-

"Earth!" You blink away the visions. You're back inside Lucifer's bathroom.

Lucifer himself was kneeled to your left. His arms held your back up so you were sitting instead of laying. His eyes and face were full of concern for you.

For me.

"Darling, what happened? Are you alright? Should I call the hospital?" His eyes are searching yours.

"What happened to you?" You ask, and your voice sounded dead to you.

Lucifer pauses, noticing your voice tone as well, "...to me?"

"Your back." You press on, "What happened? Who did that to you?"

Lucifer stares at you, "Maze did. That's where my wings were and I told her to cut them off as a spit in my father's face."

You shook your head violently, "Stop with that whole Devil shtick, Lucifer! I need to know the truth, please."

"It's not a shtick, K9!" You could see the pleading in his eyes. He wants you to believe him. Needs you to, "I never lie. Especially not to you." You close your eyes and take deep breaths in and out.

Calm down, Earth. Those visions were fake. You're crazy. Lucifer's crazy. None of it was real.

"K9?" Lucifer whispers to you and you open your eyes again.

You're back to normal, "I'm sorry, Lucifer. I don't know what came over me. I'm fine."

Lucifer just stares at your for a bit, then he places a hand on your cheek and keeps locked eye contact with you, "Earth," you felt the air change and could hear a slight difference in his voice.

What's he doing?

"Earth," Lucifer repeats, and he keeps your eyes locked with his, "What's wrong? What happened to you, darling?"

You just stare on back with a look of complete confusion, "Umm. Are you trying that mojo thing Chloe talks about?"

Now Lucifer is looking at you with complete confusion, "...Yes. What...Are you sure you're not related to her?"

"Lucifer. I'm ok now." You remove his hand from your face and break the eye contact. You lift yourself up and walk over to one of the stalls, "Just...just leave me alone for a while today, ok?" You close the door, not waiting for his reply, and rest on the toilet.

It's a long while before you hear Lucifer move, but eventually he does, "Alright, darling. I'll be down in the club if you need me." You hear Lucifer shut the bathroom door. Finally, you were alone with your thoughts.

What in the actual fuck is going on.

------------------------------------------------------

"Lucifer!"

Maze walks down the steps and heads to her Devil, who was currently hunched on a stool at the bar counter with the ever trusty whiskey drink in hand.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Maze asks as she leans on the bar next to him.

"Just stewing over whatever His 'plan' is, yet again." Lucifer replies to the bar and takes a shot of his drink.

"Well maybe this will cheer you up, because it sure does cheer me up."

"What?"

Maze leans her face to his and whispers with an evil grin, "Want to go deal some punishment on one of those bomb fucks?"

Lucifer lifts his brow. His sour mood all gone, now replaced with his Devil side, "Just one?"

"The ticks still haven't found the one responsible for the bomb that actually blew, but that other bomb? They found the kid who's known for making that kind. And," Maze's grin grew more and she licked her lips, "with my own persuasion I got him to tell me who ordered it."

"So, who's the champ getting a special treatment from the Devil?" Lucifer stands up and fixes his suit, making himself more presentable.

"Dear old 'mum'."

Lucifer's body went completely still. Maze watched as his eyes processed the information. They went from shock, to disbelief, to those beautiful red eyes she loves so much.

Lucifer says nothing. Just takes long strides out of the building. Maze laughs mechanically and runs to catch up with him. No way was she missing this.

------------------------------------------------------

You were curled up on Lucifer's couch watching some mind numbing television when you heard the elevator doors chime open. You braced yourself to talk with Lucifer, but when you turned your head to look it was Chloe who stepped out.

"Hey, girl." Chloe motioned for you to stay sitting. She came over and sat next to you, "How are you feeling?" She asks as she hugs you.

Confused. Scared. Sad.

"A lot better." You say hugging her back.

"I can tell." Chloe smiles as she takes in your appearance, "No bandages, barely any scabs left, and you're curled up in your weird sitting position."

"Haha." You give your BFF a sarcastic laugh and an eye roll.

"Where's Lucifer?" Chloe notices now the vacancy of flirts and sass remarks.

"He said he'd be downstairs for most of the day."

"I didn't see him down there."

"Really?" A small bubble of relief popped in you.

"Yeah. Some nurse he is then for not telling you." Chloe shakes her head in disapproval.

"Actually Chloe he's been-" you pause for a second to relive the time you spent yesterday with him. You can't help the small smile that appears on your face, "He's been a pretty good nurse. I'm only alone right now because I asked to be alone. Not his fault."

"Hmm, well anyways I came to not only visit you, but to also tell you some good news!" Chloe's smiling now.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't have any news for you last night, but this morning Agent Monroe made a break through. A small one, but that's better than nothing." Chloe sits herself crossed legged on the couch facing you, "He managed to find out who the maker of the second bomb is, the one that didn't go off."

"Anyway I could guess who?"

"Doubt it. Remember back when I asked you to look into that real estate murder because Dan was too busy with another case?"

You think back to that day when you and Lucifer first worked together. Now a bubble of happiness popped in you, "Yeah."

"Well that case was a bomb one, and he found the guy responsible for it. More of a kid than a guy, actually. He was a pizza boy who made bombs on the side." Your eyes went wide.

"Yup." Chloe continues, "Turns out that bomb was one of his, but he claims that he only makes them. He doesn't actively use them."

"So, who'd he sell that bomb to?" You were interested now.

"He won't tell, of course. Before Monroe was about to break him his lawyer stepped in." Chloe scoffed in disgust and annoyance, "Mrs. Charlotte Richards has become a real thorn in the precinct's side."

Your jaw falls open, "Charlotte Richards is a pizza boy's lawyer?"

"Yeah. That is pretty weird...why?" Chloe looks quizzically at you.

"She was at the restaurant Lucifer took me to that night, and I did not get good vibes from her. She really didn't like me being out with her son."

Now it was Chloe's turn to have her jaw drop, "What?!"

"What?"

"Charlotte Richards is Lucifer's mother?!"

"Yeah. Or step mom, I'm not entirely sure," you take in Chloe's complete shocked appearance, "You...didn't know did you?"

"No I didn't!" Chloe flops back on the couch, "Honestly, though, it makes complete sense."

"Sooo," you try to continue the conversation, "You said Charlotte stepped in right when that boy was about to spill the beans?"

"Yeah...she even paid his bail for making the bombs." You could see the wheels turning in her brain, "You said she was there that night with you two?"

"Yup."

"Did it seem like a coincidence that she happened to be there?"

"She said it was a company dinner, but I somehow doubt that."

"Hmm...maybe I could go question her colleagues." Chloe says this more to herself than to you.

"Woah, wait a sec Chloe. You think Lucifer's mom might be on this?"

"It's just speculation. You said she didn't seem to like you, and she has some sort of...aura about her." Chloe gives you one more hug then stands up, "I'm going to head over there to investigate. I'll call you if I find out anything." Then she's in the elevator and the doors shut.

Oh shit.

------------------------------------------------------

The Goddess of Creation stood over her wooden work desk. She gathered up the last of the report papers and put them inside of her bag.

"Mother!"

The Goddess looked up to see her Lightbringer enter her office. She wasn't surprised to see him. She could hear his strong footsteps enter the building.

"Yes, son?" She walked around from behind her desk to the front to be closer to him.

"How could you?!" Her son was clearly angry. She saw that demon of his enter the room to stand behind him. It drew out it's blades and twirled them while grinning at her.

"How could I what?" She tilts her head at her son. Complete innocence.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" He points his finger at her. His voice grew more and more deep with each sentence.

The Goddess just crosses her arms and leans against the desk. She rolls her eyes, "I don't see why you're so upset. She's just a human."

"First Azrael's blade," he steps closer, "and now you tried, nae, wanted to kill Earth.". He's right in front of his mother's face now.

"Well I didn't kill her."

"That's it mother." Lucifer's Devil face was fully out now. The Goddess cringes at that hideous face her ex had given their beautiful son, "Your time here on earth is finished." Lucifer's demon steps closer, daggers ready.

"You can't kill me, Lucifer." The Goddess stood her ground. She doesn't fear this "Devil".

The demon scoffs, "Of course he can. Stop stalling."

"I'm not stalling, creature. I'm telling the truth." She sees her son's Devil face raise what would be a brow at her, "You can only 'kill' me by destroying this body. Do that, and you've murdered a human."

"The human, Charlotte Richards, was dead before you entered her." Devil Lucifer responds.

"True, but when I entered her I felt her soul." The Goddess lifts her head in triumph, "Charlotte Richards has been connected back to her body, even in death."

"You've gotta be fucking with us." The demon peers at her.

The Goddess gives the demon a disgusted look, then focuses back in her son, "Kill me and you murder a human. Your father's number one rule."

"Like I care about his rules."

"True, but you, my son," the Goddess holds the Devil's face in her hands, "you are not a murderer."

The Devil's eyes search her face, but she ends up winning. Lucifer drops his Devil face.

"We can still punish her!" His demon pleads to him.

He raises his hand to silence her, then he removes his mother's hands from his face and takes a step back, "You even think about going after her again, and I will become a murderer."

Lucifer walks out of her office and, after a lot of evil glaring, his demon follows him out.

He may be pissed now, but he should thank his father for Chloe having her back turned to him and being too focused on questioning the workers to notice his departure.

------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer steps out of his elevator entering his penthouse. He looks up and sees you standing by his piano with your belongings packed up next to you.

"I'm feeling better now." You reply to his questionable eyebrow raise, "I don't want to take too much of your hospitality."

"You're no trouble, K9."

"I...I know." You look down at your clasped hands, "I just want to go home now. Get back to life."

Lucifer's silent for a bit, "I'm sorry if-"

"No no." You raise your hand and walk to him, "You have nothing to be sorry about, Lucifer. You've been a wonderful nurse." You give him a small smile, "Thank You."

He looks slightly taken back, but returns your smile with his own, "You're quite welcome, my dear." You nod to him, then grab your things and head to the elevator.

"K9, wait." You finger hovers over the elevator's button, waiting. "How do you plan on getting home?"

"Oh, I was just going to call a cab."

"Please, let me take you home instead." You couldn't tell what kind of emotion was showing in his eyes, and you don't think he knew either.

Your heart constricted and your stomach was doing flip flops, but you give him a smile and nod your head, "Ok."

The ride to your apartment building was a quiet one, but it was a welcoming silence. Every now and then you'd catch Lucifer looking at you, and he would catch you looking at him.

You arrive at the building and Lucifer walks with you inside and to your door. You unlock it and step halfway inside before turning around to face him.

"Goodnight, Lucifer."

He smiles at you, "Goodnight, Earth."

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Lucifer sits at his piano. A lite cigarette laying in an ashtray and a glass of whiskey in front of him. He plays the tune to Les Friction's "Torture", but stops when he hears his elevator door ding open.

"Detective?" Lucifer can't help the surprised tone in his voice, "It's a bit late for a case isn't it?"

"I'm not here for a case, Lucifer." She walks closer to him and he stands up from his piano bench to face her properly.

"Is everything alright?"

"I hope so." Chloe's hands interlace together in a nervous matter, "Earth told me she went home. I figured now was a good time to talk to you."

"About?"

"Us, Lucifer." Chloe walks closer to him until they're almost touching.

"I want to talk about our kiss."

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Tag List: @insanity-is-always-fun @anushay1998 @emiwrites3reads @i-am-canada-13 @heart-of-pots-and-pans

[raspberryparker]

someday | seven

college!au spidey x fem!reader

← previous | series masterlist | next → (coming soon)

word count: 4427

summary: finally some good fucking food spidey content. ned is a love guru. (not my gif)

warnings: see masterlist some vintage spidey-style crime stoppin’

read it on ao3

add yourself to my taglist!

like my work? consider buying me a coffee!

━━━━━━━━

   It was far, far too cold out to be swinging through the bone-chilling air in nothing but a skin tight superhero suit and the boxers Peter had on underneath.

   If the snow that fell in faint flurries around him wasn’t bad enough, then the bite of the wind against his body as he zipped through the air was a bit overkill in his opinion. His fingers were going numb around the webbing he gripped in his fist and his thighs were doing that weird tingly thing that happens when they’ve been cold for too long. It felt like they were falling asleep but it also kind of hurt. It was far from pleasant. This was yet another instance in which he was eternally grateful for Mr. Stark putting that heater in his suit, because without it he was pretty sure he’d already have developed a bad case of hypothermia.

   Coming down from the arch of his last swing, he perched himself carefully on the top of a flagpole that came diagonally out from a building, his adhesive feet allowing him to grip the softball sized metal ball on the top of it with ease. Shaking his arms out and flexing his fingers, he eased the cramping of the muscles that often occurred after he’d been gripping a web for too long. As he sat there switching out his web cartridges, he watched as a child on the street below him caught one of the empty ones as it fell.

   He looked up at Peter with a pleased shriek of happiness, the boy’s giggle coming through his words as he shouted, “Hi, Spider-Man!”

   Peter grinned in the mask, holding up a hand and waving at the young boy below him. The boy’s mother crouched beside him, saying something in his ear and holding his hand as they both waved back.

   If anyone asked him, he would definitely have said that that was the best part of the whole ‘being a superhero’ thing; the happiness he brought people. The comfort that they could live in knowing he was keeping them safe. It was incomparable.

   Peter saluted the pair below them, before shooting a web at the building across from him and launching himself into the air once again. He could hear the boy’s laugh behind him as he swung away. He smiled to himself.

   “That was nice,” Karen said. “I’ve archived it with the rest.”

   “Awesome,” he grinned.

   A few months back, he’d decided to make use of the fact that Karen could record the things he saw, and asked her to save his favourite moments for when he was feeling upset. It definitely helped to cheer him up. Those few days when he was sick, he sat in bed with a box of pizza with his mask on (pulled up over his mouth though—he still needed to eat) and watching a few selected clips. His favourite was when a little girl had spotted him in Central Park, scurrying up to him while her mother tried to stop her, and presented Peter with a small flower she’d picked on the way over to him. He’d sat there on his bed, watching on his suit’s display as she grinned between missing teeth all over again, and he took the flower from her and thanked her. He hadn’t been expecting for her to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, her pigtails tickling his neck through the suit, but he laughed happily as he carried her back to her mother and handed her off. The woman apologized for disturbing him, but he waved it off, giving the little girl a high five before he swung off again.

   That little encounter had been all over Twitter for the next week. Sometimes he forgot just how many, uh… fans he had.

   But it was all worth it.

   He still had the flower pressed into one of his chemistry textbooks.

   It had been a pretty uneventful day so far, apart from the fact that it had started snowing again and he’d almost slipped off multiple rooftops. For someone with sticky limbs, he was really doing a bad job at using them. Well, as uneventful as it could be for Peter when he was doing his rounds.

   He’d stopped a couple robberies already, saved a man from being mugged, and even pulled a frightened cat out of where it’d gotten stuck on a fire escape. You know, normal Spidey things. But he was really hoping for something fun to come his way, something that would make being out on that incredibly cold day worth his suffering. He had no classes on that day, Y/N was busy in the library so they couldn’t meet up to study, Ned was either in a lab or busy working on his assignments, and MJ was working on her biggest painting yet that she was supposed to submit in place of her midterm exam… basically, everyone had a life. So Peter decided it would be a perfect moment to do his rounds.

   Except for the fact that the day had turned out to be incredibly boring. And cold. Very boring and cold.

   As he swung by a few buildings, the receivers on his suit were able to pick up voices coming from a secluded area behind them. As curious as ever, he pulled himself up and over the roof of the building, free falling down on the other side. He caught himself on the fire escape, careful not to alert the men below him of his presence. In the alley-like area where the back sides of three buildings faced each other, Peter peered down at the group of five men standing around a black sedan, another identical one parked a few feet away.

   If that didn’t scream ‘suspicious’, he didn’t know what would.

   The snow drifted down softly around them as they huddled near the trunk, the flakes still too small and thin to stick properly. They all wore thick, heavy jackets to protect themselves from the cold, a few even with black toques on their presumably bald heads. They were, essentially, the poster children for ‘dangerous thugs’. Karen took the liberty of running facial recognition on all of the men facing toward him.

   “They’re all convicted felons,” she informed him. A collection of file icons gathered in the top right corner of the display, names popping up next to the boxes around their faces as Karen pulled their records. “Would you like me to scan their persons?”

   “Please,” Peter muttered, still worried they might spot him.

   He watched as the outlines of handguns appeared in blue along their waistlines, almost every single one of the men there armed, bar one or two. Well. There was nothing better than the threat of getting shot.

   With his mind already made up to intercept whatever obviously illegal activity this gang of goons were up to, he latched a web onto the railing of the fire escape and gripped it with both hands and feet as he descended slowly behind them upside down. They still hadn’t noticed him (which was surprising because his suit colours tended to stand out; maybe they were just that dumb). Just as he was about to reach their level, still about six feet off the ground, one of the thugs opened the trunk of the car.

   “Vinny was supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” a gruff voice muttered in a thick, almost too stereotypical ‘New Yorker’ drawl. “If he doesn’t show up, I swear I’ll kill him. Does he know how risky it is to just be out here with all this shit? We’re like sitting ducks.”

   “I told him, Frankie. Three-thirty, I told him.”

   “Well, he’s late. And that makes us late, so you do the math, dipshit.”

   Peter almost laughed out loud.

   Inside the trunk (oh, this was just too good), were perfectly packaged bricks of white powder wrapped in plastic. Drug deals were his absolute favourite bust. There had to be at least fifty of those bricks, and whoever put them there clearly crammed as many of them into the boot of the car as they could. They looked like they were about to burst.

   Lowering himself until he was just about eye-level with the shortest one, still upside down, Peter cleared his throat.

   “You know,” he said, watching as the men whirled around in surprise. “When people say they’re dreaming of a ‘white Christmas’, I don’t think that’s exactly what they mean.”

   “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” one of them (Frankie, if his memory served him correctly) shouted. “Do something! Kill him!”

   Peter allowed himself to drop to the ground, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet. As a particularly burly thug charged at him, he dodged the oncoming collision by moving to his right. The assailant whirled past him, and he pivoted on his feet and used one of the many gadgets embedded into his web shooters (thank you, Ned) to plaster the guy to the wall of the building behind him with a large net of webbing. Peter’s nerves began firing rapidly, the back of his neck tingling, alerting him of someone approaching from behind him. He jumped into the air, flipping over top of the second thug, before allowing him to meet the same fate as his buddy.

   “Don’t let him get in the air!” came a shout.

   He turned quickly, spotting the other three men with their pistols drawn and pointed directly at him. Peter, acting quickly, used both web shooters to latch onto two of the guns, disarming his opponents. He flung them over his head like a lasso, tossing the weapons to the other end of the alley.

   The offenders growled in frustration, and began barreling toward him.

   “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Peter said, the sarcastic tone prevalent in his voice. “Can’t we resolve this by using our words? You know, like normal, law abiding citizens?”

   Peter felt a tickle on his neck, his ear twitching in warning. He jerked his head to the left, watching as the bullet he narrowly dodged whizzed past his face before he even heard the shot go off.

   Turning to look at the only thug who still had a gun, the eyes of his mask went wide in mock surprise.

   “Oh. Right.”

   He caught one of the men running at him and threw him up into the air, shooting a web at him and pulling it down hard. He landed on top of the other one, knocking them both down like dominoes with resulting sharp groans. There was only one left, and he still had that gun.

   Peter dodged another bullet, and disarmed the man the same way he had done the others, but this time knocking the pistol against his nose for good measure. He caught the gun in the opposite hand, clicking the magazine out in one swift movement.

   “I’ve always hated guns,” he sighed, tossing both pieces in opposite directions. “There’s so many more elegant ways to go about things. Like this.”

   With a quick push, Peter turned and hit the man in the chin with his foot as he bicycle kicked him, flipping and landing in a crouch with his fingers to the floor.

   “Now I’m just showing off,” he laughed.

   He quickly went about webbing the disoriented assailants to various surfaces, laying a couple on the ground, and the other stuck to a wall. He clapped his hands together, admiring his handiwork, and turned to the car they’d all busied themselves with earlier.

   “Now then,” he said to himself. “What’s all this about?”

   He approached cautiously, fully knowing it might have been rigged, and used the scanner in his suit to determine the substance in the packages. Although, he didn’t really need to. Everyone and their dog knew that those were bricks of pure cocaine. But better safe than sorry, he always said.

   As the display in his suit confirmed his suspicions, one of the thugs that he’d left conscious started to yell.

   “You just fuckin’ wait, you spider asshole!” he shouted. “Once the boss finds out, you’re as good as dead! He’s gonna tear you to shre—”

   “Oh, shut up,” Peter groaned, extending an arm behind him and webbing the man’s mouth shut without even turning around.

   Circling around the car slowly, he peered into the windows. In the backseat, obscured by the tinted glass, were two metal crates. He scanned its contents, eyes widening in surprise when he saw them chock full of military grade weapons. He was more than confused now.

   Peter stepped over to the felon whose mouth he’d just webbed over, still squirming on the ground in his web cocoon like a caterpillar, and crouched down before him, resting on the balls of his feet.

   “Frankie, right?” he asked, recalling the conversation he’d had with the other earlier. “I’m gonna take this off now but you gotta be good for Spidey, okay?”

   The man did nothing more than grunt.

   Tilting his palm toward Frankie’s mouth, Peter used the solvent spray he kept for emergencies on the patch of white on his face, softening the webs until he was able to peel them back.

   Immediately, the thug went to spit in his face. Or mask, he supposed.

   “Hey now, what’d I say?” Peter asked, turning slightly so the projectile missed him. “That’s not very nice.”

   “Fuck you,” Frankie said through gritted teeth.

   Peter gripped Frankie’s chin between his fingers, tilting his face side to side and observing his features. He was rough and rugged, his five o’clock shadow scratching against Peter’s fingers through the suit, and his short dark hair was cropped military style. His dark eyes, hooded by equally dark, angry eyebrows, gleamed with malice and his teeth were bared fiercely, the off white colour smeared red with blood from his busted lip. He looked almost too much like a criminal. It was kind of funny.

   Peter smirked, one eye of his mask widening as he raised an eyebrow.

   “Maybe if you weren’t a criminal,” he said, releasing Frankie’s chin and letting his head hit the ground. “But I’m afraid we’re just too incompatible.”

   Frankie cursed loudly, his eyes shutting as his head smacked the pavement loudly.

   “You were using some pretty brave words, earlier,” Peter went on, tilting his head curiously as his eyes narrowed and he rested his elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists under his chin. “Who exactly do you work for, anyway? I’d like to know what I’m in for when your boss comes after me.”

   “Heh,” Frankie laughed mirthlessly. “I thought Spider-Man would be smarter than to mess with Nefaria’s guys.”

   Peter’s eyes widened, recognizing the familiar name of one of the Maggia crime families, though more importantly, the name of a man he’d fought before on multiple occasions.

   “As if I’m scared of The Count,” Peter scoffed. “I already told him to go back to Sesame Street. Many times. But you’ve piqued my interest now; I’ve heard the Maggia’s had a little trouble lately. Your pal Hammerhead’s all worked up over it. That why you guys moving your goodies?”

   Frankie leaned to the left, spitting out blood mixed with saliva on the ground next to him. Peter grimaced.

   “What’s it to you?” he asked, voiced grating. “Ain’t you trying to take us down, too? Thought you’d be on the same side as that freak.”

   “You wound me,” Peter said sarcastically, holding a hand to his chest. “Actually no, you don’t; pretty sure I’m doing all the wounding here. But you should know, killing’s not really my… thing. Especially not like that.”

   “Doesn’t matter anyway,” Frankie smiled. “Hammerhead’s comin’ after you as soon as he’s done with that freak show who’s been fuckin’ up our business. He’s got a special place on his mantel just for your head.”

   “I really hate it when the families work together,” Peter groaned, standing from his crouching position. “More trouble for me.”

   “I’ve alerted the nearest police precinct of our whereabouts,” Karen informed him. “Officers are en route.”

   “Good news, though,” Peter told Frankie, turning and walking away from him. “Your ride’s on its way. It’ll be the one with the flashing red and blue lights.”

   As he jumped from the ground, bracing himself against the outer wall of the building, he heard Frankie call after him, shouting from below.

   “You’re gonna regret goin’ after him!” he yelled. “He’s like nothin’ you’ve ever seen before!”

   Peter turned, trying to mask the concern in his voice as he replied.

   “Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

━━━━━━━━

   In Y/N’s opinion, there was nothing better than curling onto the small window seat in her dorm in her softest sweater, watching the snowfall and coat the park her room face in its sugary flakes as she read her favourite book and sipped some tea. Her copy of The Shining had been given to her by her mother twelve years prior, and she’d read it about a hundred times since then. The cover was bent in multiple places, the binding wearing thin from all the folding, but she thought it gave the novel character.

   It was already dark outside, but the snow reflected the orange glow of the city lights like nothing else, so she still had enough reading light provided she was right next to the window. That and the lights that lit up Washington Square Park only a couple blocks away gave washed her in a warm glow to counteract the chill of the snow.

   There was just one small thing wrong with that particular situation.

   “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

   Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, closing the book and pressing it to her forehead before she took a breath. She loved Ned—really, she did—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get annoyed at him for being very vocal about his opinions on the plot of whatever comic he was reading.

   “Ned,” she sighed. “Could you keep it down? I’m trying to read.”

   “Oh, shit, yeah sorry,” he muttered. She heard him adjust his position on her bed, probably wrap the blanket her grandmother had made for her before she went off to university that he loved so much (“It’s just so soft, Y/N,” he’d said. “Feels like I’m wrapped in a cloud. Or cuddling a sheep. I love sheep.”), and cleared his throat. “What’cha reading, anyways?”

   Turning to him, she came to terms with the fact that she probably wasn’t going to get any more reading done that evening and closed the book, setting it down next to her. She’d been right—Ned was wrapped from head to toe in the blue blanket. He held it tightly around his chin with one hand, and his open comic book in the other. She smiled fondly at him.

   “Guess.”

   “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “You know I’m bad at that.”

   “Okay, I’ll give you a hint,” she smiled. “I’ve already read it.”

   “That gives me absolutely nothing. Just tell me.”

   Y/N laughed. “I’m reading The Shining.”

   “Again?” he asked. Ned slipped the blanket off his head but still held it around his shoulders, revealing his ruined bed hair. Y/N had seen pictures of him in high school when it had been longer, but she felt the shorter style suited him more. It was still fluffy on the top, just shorter on the sides, and she liked mussing it up with her hands to mess with him. “What is this, like, the three millionth time?”

   “What? It’s my favourite for a reason.”

   “If you say so.”

   They sat in silence for a moment, Y/N taking the interruption as an opportunity to stretch her limbs out, her shoulders popping deliciously as her cramped up joints were given room to breathe. When she looked back at Ned, he was looking at her curiously, brows furrowed and with an expression that made him look like he was deep in thought.

   “Okay,” she said, raising her mug of tea to her lips. “What is it? Come on, spit it out.”

   “How do you feel about Peter asking you out?”

   Turns out she’d be the one who’d end up spitting.

   Her nasal cavity stung, eyes watering as the tea she was in the middle of taking a sip of traveled up the wrong canal and almost came out her nose. She coughed and sputtered furiously, trying to get the remnants of liquid out of places they were not supposed to be as she set her mug down on the windowsill.

   “What?”

   “You know, I almost couldn’t believe he actually got the guts to do it,” Ned went on, as if nothing had happened. He stood and stretched as well, absentmindedly picking up one of the stuffed bears Y/N kept on her bed and bending its ears between his fingers. “Peter’s like a child when it comes to girls. He still uses the word crush, can you believe that? He’s a literal baby.”

   “Ned, what are you talking about?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath. “Peter didn’t- he never… look, what gives you that idea?”

   “Ohhh,” he smirked. “Oh, I see.”

   Y/N furrowed her brows, not liking how cryptic Ned was being one bit. She watched as he opened her mini-fridge, identical to the one in every other dorm room, and took out an apple juice box.

   “Dude, I love you, but you’re fucking oblivious,” he laughed. “For an English major who’s supposed to be observant or whatever, anyway.”

   “Okay, I’m lost.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a noise of confusion, as she shook her head. “You still haven’t told me what you’re talking about.”

   “Thanksgiving.”

   “Okay… what about it?”

   Ned stuck the small straw into the juice box and took a sip, not break eye contact with Y/N as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

   At this, her eyes widened.

   Oh. Oh, shit.

   “Ned, that wasn’t- listen he- he didn’t-”

   “Oh, but he did,” he said, taking a seat on the end of her bed and poking her softly with his sock clad foot. “When he told me he asked you to come, I was shocked. Don’t look at me like that, that’s not what I mean. I mean I was shocked that he’s the one that asked you. Believe me, I was planning on it, but Pete beat me to the punch.”

   “So why is that a big deal?”

   “I’ve known the kid since we were ten, and in all my years of putting up with his shit, I’ve never once seen him open up to someone or accept them as a friend as quickly as he did with you.” He furrowed his brows then, tilting his head. “Actually, nevermind that’s a lie. There was one other person, but… that’s not the point. My point is he totally likes you.”

   “Yeah,” Y/N said. “Likes me as a tutor. I’m helping him not get kicked out of school, of course he’d like me for that.”

   “Not only are you oblivious, but you’re dense, too. I thought you were smart.”

   “Thank you, I try.”

   Ned shook his head, getting up from her bed and tossing the now empty juice box into the little recycling bin next to her door. “Whatever, dude. You’re both hopeless.”

   Just as he was about to sit back down onto her bed and pick up where he left off in his comic, his phone chimed loudly in his back pocket. As he reached for it and read the notification, Y/N watch the progression of his facial expression as it went from happy, then confused, and finally rested on deep concern. He scrambled to put his shoes back on, hopping around on one foot and reaching for his backpack at the same time.

   “Uh,” Y/N asked. “What’s up?”

   “It’s Peter,” Ned replied, throwing his hoodie over a shoulder. “I gotta go.”

   Y/N almost physically felt the blood drain from her face as her skin took on a ghostly pallor at the news. What if he was in trouble? He could have gotten hurt again doing God knows what. Maybe Ned did know about what Peter liked to do after hours.

   “I-is he okay?”

   Ned must have heard the concern in her voice before he met her eyes, because he gave her a soft smile and a sigh.

   “Yeah, yeah I’m sure he’s fine,” he reassured her. “But he needs me, like, right now. I’m sorry to bail like this.”

   “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Just… text me, yeah? Let me know if anything’s wrong?”

   If she hadn’t been paying close attention to Ned as he stuck half his body out of her door, she would have missed the knowing smile that crossed his expression before he replied.

   “Of course. See ya later, Y/N.”

   And with that he was gone.

   Y/N turned to her tea, now going cold as it sat in the chill of the wind that seeped in through the window. She brought the mug to her lips, looking through the glass and watching the people on the street below her, but quickly set it back down as she found herself unable to stomach anything. She was lucky to have gotten a room with a view of the streets and the park rather than the alley that lay behind the building. But even the sugar frosted trees and the lights that made them sparkle like diamonds were not enough to brighten her mood.

   She felt her gut fall heavy with the familiar feeling of dread.

   It was a feeling that she was getting more and more accustomed to as the days went on. That night about three days prior, when she’d been waiting for Peter to return before he’d taken her to see the aforementioned lights, she’d spent the evening worrying about him. She didn’t think it was weird, something like being worried about a friend, but then again, she didn’t even know if he considered her a friend.

   Sure, they had a mutual friend. But that was about it.

   It wasn’t weird to worry about his safety when she barely knew him… right?

   Tucking her earbuds in, she turned back to the book she’d previously abandoned to try to take her mind off of things.

   And it definitely was not because she didn’t want even the slightest chance of missing Ned’s text when or if he decided to update her.

   Of course not. And she’d continue to tell herself that for the rest of the night.

━━━━━━━━

A/N: peter is a bisexual disaster (as am i, but anywho)... the plot thickens. also i love the comic villains a lot so expect a few surprise appearances from some nasty guys and gals wink wink

and please support my love for longer fluffy haired pete cuz you’re gonna get a lot of it. picture peter with longer, fluffier hair bc i definitely feel like he’d forget to cut it while in college bc may’s not there to remind him. i’m talking like edge of winter fluff, but it sticks up all over the place okay let me live i love messy curly hair.

read it on ao3

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[reject-princess97]

Peter Parker -Spider-Man

The school day pretty much dragged for Peter Parker and I, we had be stuck in Chem, and had been for what felt like the last 15 hours. Pete tapped his pen against the desk next to me in the rhythm of one of my favourite Imagine Dragons songs, while I hummed along quietly finishing off the last of my work.

"OK Class, I expect you have all handed in the permission slips in for the Stark Tower trip tomorrow." Our teacher Mr Harrington announced. The whole class nodded and then the bell rang.

"Miss Barton and Mr Parker, please stay behind for a moment." He announced as we all stood to leave. Pete and I sat back down and waited until the room was empty and Mr Harrington came and sat on the desk with on of ours.

"I'm fully aware of your, involvement with the Stark industries, I know this because one of the conditions to our opportunity as that you two are to be in attendance." He told us and her eyed the two of us suspiciously. Of course he had know Idea of our involvement with SI. He had know clue that Peter was in fact spiderman and that his "internship" is just a cove. He had know idea that my dad is in fact Tony Stark himself and that I only use the name Y/N Barton to keep my identity a secret so people don't treat me any different. Only Pete, Ned and MJ know my really name and only they know of Peter's alter ego too.

Pete and I nodded carried on as he spoke. "I expect you two on your best behaviour, I don't want another repeat of last year." He instructed before he shooed us off.

"He acts like that terrorist group attacking us was OUR fault." I muttered as we made our why out of the school where Happy waited for the two of us.

"To be fair, those guys were after you personally, the only reason he didn't get you was because Spiderman stepped in and saved your ass." he rose and eyebrow as we climbed into the back of the car.

"Yeah, and then who had to step in and save both your asses?" My dad sassed on the video phone. I smiled over at the screen and my dad smiled back.

"Papa Stark, how's things?" I asked as he let out a chuckle.

"Good, kid, listen, The team and I have a mission and as Pepper isn't back in the states till tomorrow, May has offered you a bed for the night. I'm sorry it short notice but I've packed you a bag, and by me I mean your aunt Nat." My dad told me and I nodded.

"OK, when will you be back?" I asked, letting out a sigh, this was the third time this week he had left me in the care of Aunt May, luckily this time Peter hadn't been called to the line and I wasn't left alone.

"I'll be back early hours this morning, I'll Text you in the morning, I love you Kiddo." He smiled apologetically I told him I loved him back before He was gone and I turned to Pete who smiled.

"You wanna order take out and watch supernatural?" He offered, taking my hand and I nodded, resting me head in my boyfriends shoulder and Happy drove us to Pete's weeknight home, as we called is a he usually spent the weekends at the Tower with my dad and I, working on new weaponry for the Avengers.

******The Next Morning******

I woke up on the couch in the living room, wrapped up in Peter's arms as he snored softly, to my phone ringing. I picked it up to see ****IronDad**** Flash across the screen and I smiled, answering the call.

"Dad, Hey!"

"Hey, Kiddo, just letting you know we made it home safe, a little beat up but not to much." He said and I could here the smile in his voice.

"Went well then?" I asked and he grunted in reply, a sign he was tired and wasn't really in the mood to talk about it right now.

"OK, well, you get some sleep and I'll see you later, OK?" I told him and he chuckled back,

"OK, Kiddo, I love you... I'll pretend I don't hear the Kids snores down the phone."

"Relax, Dad, we fell asleep on the couch watching Supernatural, we both know May would never allow the two of us to share a bed." I told he and I just knew he had a smirk on his face. "I love you too." I chuckled before we both hung up and I looked at my phone and sighed as I turned to Peter and shook him awake.

"We gotta get up loser, we got that trip today and we leave and like ah hour and a half." I told him and nodded, opening his arms wide and pulled me in to his chest.

"Petey, we gotta get up. Come on." I sighed as I pulled away and stood up, grabbing my bag and walking into the bathroom where I changed into the clothes Aunt Nat had picked out for me.

I liked that aunt Net knew how I liked to dress, especially around School or the tower so when I changed I was happy to find a pair of faded dark blue skinny jeans, a black ACDC top and a pair of black and while Converse. Also on my bag was various types of tech that my dad had developed to look like accessories so I could keep them on me at all times. One being a small bracelet that had a direct link to on my dad wore and a necklaces that was actually a panic button linked to both dad's and Peters phone.

Once fully dressed I walked out to find Peter dress and ready, standing by the door with a cup of coffee in each hand.

"Ready to good Stark?"

"You know it Parker." I smiled as I grabbed a cup of coffee and kissed him softly before we left, waving goodbye to May who waved, smiling.

The walk to school was pretty much the same as it always was, Peter and I walked hand in hand, sipping coffee and talking all the while a tall, well dressed man, followed not so subtly behind. Once as school wave to Happy, who nods back and we enter the school.

We walked to the group of students all waiting for the field trip, by the big yellow bus. After Mr Harrington checked our names off we all headed on the bus and soon we were on our way.

Although the Bus ride was short if felt as though it was dragging as Flash Thompson began to annoy Peter bout if internship, something Flash believed to be non existent. MJ and I, who sat next to each other in front of Peter and Ned, let out a sigh of relief when the bus stopped and we all climbed off.

"OK, students, please remember, this trip is not a right, it a privilege and any and all bad behaviour and messing around will result in you being brought back to the bus where you will spent the remainder of the day.." He informed the student however his eyes seemed to dart between Peter and I.

"I'd really like to see him try to kick me out of my our home, I mean seriously, Happy would laugh in his face if his tried to have me escorted out of the building." I muttered to MJ as we all headed inside to the lobby.

The lobby seemed to render everyone speechless. Peter and I just chuckled at everyone's faces at they look around and awe. Even MJ and Ned who had been here numerous times looked like their eyes might pop out of their sockets.

"OK Students, This is Chris. Chris, he will be our tour guide so please, do as he asks." Mr Harrington really did look at us this time as we turned and wave at Chris who smiled back.

"OK, Guys, before we start we have these passes to give out, this will allow you in and out of every door we pass as long as you have the right security Clearance." He explained as he handed the box too Mr Harrington.

"A little bit about the clearance levels, there are then levels, 1 being the highest then 10 being the lowest, these show you Floor clearance, then they are sorted into Alpha, Beta and Omega which basically tells you where in the level you are, Alpha being the head of the floors and omega being the interns and office staff and then from there it's split into two colours, Red and blue." Chris spoke, as each of the students took a pass with their name on it. "You being tourists have the lowest security Clearance, Level 10 Omega Blue." He told them as he led us all over to the security scanners.

"OK, just scan your pass and it will allow you in." Chris said as he scanned his pass and the automated voice called out

"Chris Jones, Level 5 Beta Red"

As numerous students scanned into the building Mr Harrington called Chris over and pointed and MJ, Ned Peter and I.

"I'm sorry to be a pain but, these four students don't have a pass and..." Chris cut Mr Harrington off and nodded.

"Well, they already have passes." Mr Harrington looked over at us surprised as we nodded.

"Bullshit, like hell Parker has a pass here." We heard Flash yell. Peter pulled out his pass and held it up, shrugging.

"Well, it's probably only like, level 10, same as us all." Flash bite back as he scanned his pass.

"Eugene Thompson, Level 10 Omega Blue" The voice called and Flash stepped in and stood, on the opposite side watching with a smug smiled as Ned scanned in

"Ned Leeds, Level 5 Alpha Red, penthouse access, welcome back Mr Leeds." Ned smiled and walked though, sending a smug smiled to Flash who watched wide eyed.

"Michelle Jones, Level 5 Alpha Red, Penthouse Access, welcome back Miss MJ." The automated voice sounded as MJ passed through, next was Chris and Mr Harrington then Peter.

"Peter Parker, Level 1, Alpha, Red" As peter scanned in the automated voice disappeared and F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke up.

"Good morning Mr Parker, I didn't know you were working, shall I imform Mr Stark you are here?"

"No thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y, I here with school." Peter answered.

"Very well" F.R.I.D.A.Y replied and my eyes widened as I saw it was my turn.

"SHIT!!" I called as I looked up in horror, realising I was about to be outed

"What's Wrong?" MJ asked. I saw evryone look back at me and Mr Harrington sent me a very stern look.

"Miss Barton!" he scoulded but I ignored him

"My ID dosn't say Y/N Barton." I told her.

"How can your ID not say 'Barton' Miss Barton?" Harrington asked but I looked over at Peter who know my problem and he was just as stuck as I was

"MISS BARTON CAN YOU PLEASE JUST SCAN IN SO WE CAN CARRY ON WITH THE TOUR!!" Mr Harrington yelled, making me jump. Chris looked over it him wide eyed.

"I'd advise you not to yell at her, not unless you want to be escorted out of the building." Chris warned him.

"No, I will not, not because Miss Barton is taking her time to Scan a bloody card. "

"Seriously, you yelling at Y/N is not good Mr Harrington." Peter spoke up and he scoffed.

"I will yell at any of my students if and when I please. And there is not a thing you can do about it." he yelled again and then he looked at me. "Now scan your ID card so we can carry on."

"Sure thing Harrington" I sighed. I took a deep breath and scanned in

"Y/N Stark, Level 1 Alpha Red" Then once again F.R.I.D.A.Y greeted me.

"Good morning Miss Stark, I was unaware of your presence today also, I'm I right in assuming you are attending the school tour along with Mr Parker?" She asked.

"Yeah, Fri, I am." I spoke.

"Shall I inform your father you and Mr Parker are here?" She asked.

"I'm sure they all know were here by now F.R.I.D.A.Y but If you could just tell him I'm around, thanks." I told her as I walked over to Peter who stood by our teacher who starred at me wide eyed.

"The Team have been notified of you presence and Dr Banner as asked for you and Peter to stop by the lab if you have a chance." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced and Peter and I thanked her before turning to Chris who smiled.

"We'll be heading that way soon." he told us before pulling the classes attention back to the tour.

After a couple hour of walking around the tower we were all sat in the work out room and Mr Harrington was constantly trying to apologise for yelling at me. I rolled my eyes for the 100th time and sighed in relief when I heard someone call my name but when I turned my face dropped.

"This can't be good." I sighed as Clint Barton came walking over.

"Lady Stark, Lady Starks Boyfriend, how goes it?" He asked as he and Nat walked towards us.

"Uncle Clint, Aunt Nat, what are you doing here?" I asked, turning to my awe struck Classmates.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y told us you were around, figured we'd say Hi...Hi" Nat explained as she waved at the two of us. Peter chuckled and I groaned, turning back to Chris who too looked awestruck.

"Look, I'm the daughter of Tony Stark, I live in the Stark Tower, where the Avengers also reside. Don't be surprised if the other guys make an appearance." I told my class who all nodded but quickly let of shrieks as I was lifted of the floor and began floating in mid air.

"Maximoff, I will kill you!" I called to the Witch, who I know was around some where.

"Please little Witch, you couldn't touch me." She sassed as she came into view. She set me down and smiled.

"I reacon she's got you there princess" Peter laughed from beside Ned who watched wide eyed. I flipped him off and shook my head.

"Big talk coming from you Parker." I challenged.

"Bring it Princess" Peter smirked.

"Oh you guys are about to see something awesome" Nat told the class who watched Peter and I.

Nat nodded to Clint and I watched as walked over and pulled two staffs from the weapons wall and throw them at Peter and I which we caught with ease and I smirked as I saw Nat and Wonda shake hands, obviously placing bets.

I smirked as I made the first move and then Pete and I spared for about ten minutes before Pete knocked me on my butt

"You give up yet?" He asked, holding the staff to my throat. I smirked, did a fancy leg flip thing and chuckled as I sat on Pete's chest, the staff against his neck and his legs and hands pinned.

"I win" I smiled as I lean forward, kissing his lips and standing up and pulling him up with me.

"Ha, Peter got his ass kicked by a girl" Flash yelled, laughing.

"Kid, it's sparring, Honestly if Y/N hadn't taken advantage of her possition on the floor, Peter could have won just as easily." Nat told him, "Fighting isn't just being strong or week, Y/N could easily be the weekest person in this room, and Peter the strongest, but if Y/N knows when to strike, when to take advatage, then Peter would have lost all the same, It's all about using your brain." She continued.

"Besides, she trains with the Black widow, no body in the room can beat her." Peter told him, high fiving Clint who chuckled and Agreed.

"OK, let's move on, Miss Stark shall we take them to see Dr Banner now?" Chris asked and I nodded, Peter and I walked off, leading the way, hand in hand as we stopped at the Elevator.

"Non of you have Clearance for the next floor so you'll have to wait out in the hall and we'll get uncle Bruce to come out." I explained we all climbed in and I scanned my card, overriding the elevator with my own security clearance.

As we reached the Lab My uncle Bruce spotted us and smiled, making his way over.

"Hey, Uncle Bruce, F.R.I.D.A.Y said you requested our presence?" I asked once he was outside.

"Well, I need Peters help with the project we are working on and I need you because everyone needs a tiny, less annoying Stark in their day." He chuckled pulling me into a hug.

"He isn't wrong!" I heard a voice call. I turned to see my mother, Pepper. OK so she wasn't my birth mother, but she was the next best thing.

"Mum!" I grinned. "I thought you were away somewhere?" I smiled as I hugged her.

"Ok, so who has a question for Dr Banner?" Chris asked as I walked away from the group just a little so I could speak to mum while the class asked Bruce questions.

"Have yo spoken to your dad today?" She asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, he called me this morning, I told him to go to sleep, why?" I asked, I knew something was up because Pepper usually knows when dad calls me.

Pepper and I tell each other everything, even before she and my dad became a thing. She is the only mother I've ever known, my birth mother abandoned me when I was a baby, she left me with my gran. After Grams got sick she told me I was going to be living with my dad, Tony Stark.

Pepper took care of me when my dad was away and/or working so she became my mother figure. Then she became my mother. She and Dad got married and she asked me how I would feel about her becoming my mother, she wanted to adopt me and I cried for a whole day when she asked. I said yes and now, here we are, Tony Stark, his wife Pepper Stark and their daughter Y/N Stark. We were a family, something Tony and I never had much of growing up.

"Y/N honey, your dad got back from the mission a little, lets say broken. the iron man suit blown to pieces. Your Uncle Steve and Bucky had to bring him home, he was knocked out for a few hours after they got back. I thought he would have told you this." She explained as I looked at her wide eyed. I shook my head.

"I..is he OK?" I asked clearly getting upset mostly out of fear but also anger.

"Yeah, honey, he's fine. A little bruised but he'll be back to his usual annoying self in no time." She smiled, making me laugh a little.

"I resent that!" I heard my dad's voice come through over the PA system.

"Dad, were you listening in on mum and I?" I asked. I noticed, in the corner of my eye, all the students looked around, confused.

"What, no, of course not, I was just checking in but then I heard what you were saying." He defended himself. I knew he was lying though, I could hear it in his voice.

"Well, how about you go back to bed and later, when I come home from school, I'LL KILL YOU!"

It was quiet for a couple seconds before Imagine Dragons began to play over the PA. Demons to be exact.

"What is he doing?" Uncle Bruce asked, looking over at Pepper and I.

"He's 'soothing' Y/N with her favourite song." Peter answered as he exited the lab, letting Bruce know he was done with his work.

"Why would he do that?" Bruce asked, seeming even more confused.

"Because my stupid father got hurt in the last mission and he didn't tell me." I seethed.

"Miss Stark, your father would like to know if my playing music has calmed you enough?" F.R.I.D.A.Y asked.

"Yes, it has, however you can tell my father if he pulls this shit again I will kill him, violently." I told her.

"Wow, I'd hate to be the guy that ever breaks your heart." Peter joked, throwing his arm over my shoulder and leading me back to the group. I said a quick goodbye to my mum and rejoined my class.

The rest of the tour went by pretty smoothly. We toured around the final part of the building, the Avengers Museum, before make our way down to the lobby where everyone handed in their passes.

"OK, thank you for coming today and I hope you have learned a little something about working for Mr Stark, and yeah, it's pretty much like that all the time!"

"Not True!" Peter and I said at the same time.

"OK, no sometimes Captain America is here to keep things in check, sometimes Clint messes with stuff and blows stuff up and sometimes we have Two very annoying Teenagers running around the building with various weapon prototypes blasting each other...it's never this crazy" A voice said from behind me and I turn to see Rhodey called from behind me as he walks over to the group.

"OK, first of all Uncle Rhodey, Uncle Steve doesn't keep anything thing in check unless there is a mission, secondly, Clint is an idiot who can't keep his hands to himself and third...Pete and I get board so we 'TEST ' the prototypes to make sure things work." I told him.

"Sure, you joining us for dinner tonight Pete?" He asked turning his attention t my boyfriend who was chuckling beside me.

"It's Friday, Colonel Rhodes, I'm here most of the weekend working anyway so sure," Pete replied.

"Great, I'll see you after school. Y/N, I'm picking you up as your dad is..."

"dead" I interrupted him, "Or he will be when I get my hands on him." I huffed as I turned to walk away.

"Mr Stark didn't tell her he got hurt." Peter explained.

Once everybody had scanned out, Peter and I were last, and F.R.I.D.A.Y, spoke up.

"Miss Stark, your father would like me to inform you he will be picking you and Mr Parker up after school, not Colonel Rhodes and he will be taking you and Mr Parker to the beach house for the weekend, your mother too."

"Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y." I told her as we all exited the building and climbing onto the bus.

"So, you got a beach house?" Ned asked as he stood by me seat.

"My dad has a beach house, I only stay there when dad wants family time." I told him.

"Then why is Peter invited?" MJ asked pointing at Pete who sat down and looked confused.

"My dad as already married me off the this Idiot...the son he never had." I joked. "If my dad can't adopt him, then he will make him his Son-In-Law instead."

"I feel honoured." Pete smiled. "I mean for Mr Stark to trust me with his only daughter...he must really like me." He beamed.

"Yeah, you'd think that." I told him sitting down as the bus set of back to school.

[moonraccoon-exe]

What if Gladnis did, the chapstick challenge? (If u don't know what that is there are tons of videos of it on Youtube)

I did have to check it out on YT because I had no idea what it was, and kept mentally picturing the Gladnis and DUDE, YES. (ノ*°▽°*)

I’m in for this!

Edit: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS IT WAS INCREDIBLE, HHNFHGF, THANK YOU ANON![Adding a Keep Reading at some point]

Gladnis did the chapstick challenge and had a darn good time with it.

Did you know that they did it on a video, too, not just alone?

The video is up on Eostube, as well! It’s got over four million views already, and it’s in Prompto’s channel! That’s right, Prompto’s a vlogger. 

Since he doesn’t talk much with his parents and he has no other friends to share what he does with his friends, but wants so much to talk about it, then why the hell not talk to the camera?

And so he started vlogging! It wasn’t in his intention to grow famous, he only wanted someone to share his experiences and feelings with, and as he had no one in particular, then why not whoever wanted to listen? So of course he tossed all his videos onto Eostube.

He had no thematic at first, since he just shared random stuff and events.

People started liking and suscribing and asking him things, so he started making it much more formal and putting more of editing hours into it, and his suscriptions grew and grew and never stopped!

He films and takes photos of the places he goes and the things he does (without exposing his adress or anything too personal). As the channel grew, he started making some thematics into it: he has Q&A Fridays, ‘Chocobo Hunt’ (he’s just filming places where he spots a chocobo, whether real animal or not), ‘Dead or Alive’ (he goes to taste test to different stalls or restaurants and marks ‘dead’ or ‘alive’ according to whether he liked it or not), and, among some others, he has the space ‘Princefriending - A Common Friend.’

He’s gotten so used to Noctis as his friend that he just filmed the two of them doing things without giving weight or particular highlight that this is the prince, until the people in the comments recognized him. And ofc the Q&A went on and on until Prompto had to open that space just for things regarding his adventures with Noct and company!

At first it was only Noct, but Prom introduced Gladio & Ignis at some point.

Prompto has an adorable video of him ranting and reacting to the news that Gladio and Ignis are a couple (only released on his channel after Gladio and Ignis confirmed it was okay to make it public).

And so, while most of the videos focus on all 4 or Prom and each bro individually or etc., Prom has Gladio’s and Ignis’ Chapstick Challenge on his channel (ages; Prom - 19, Ignis - 21, Gladio - 22).

Coon has a special net that connects to Eostube, so I’m gonna describe it to you:

*www.eostube.lcs**Enter**Typing on Search Box: ‘Promptocobo Gladio and Ignis’**scrolling down**Clicks on thumbnail that shows the caption ‘Chapstick Challenge ROYAL edition!? /open-mouthed emoji/’**slams the heck out of the ‘Skip Ad’ box*

*8-bit Chocobo theme song playing; a toon Prompto dancing in the middle of the yellow, white and blue colored background; there’s a signature in a corner of the fanartist*

P: Hello and welcome to…. PROMPTOCOBO ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

P: I am Prompto! And this is another video for… *sounds and visual effects* Princefriending! Or, videos where I rant and show you a commoner’s life as friend to the Lucian prince and company.

P: Today, in case you haven’t read the title, or the caption, or seen the thumbnail,or the description, I bring to you the so famous: Chap- stick  Cha- llenge! *sound effect of cheering*

P: Now, I know what you’re thinking: am I kissing Noctis? Is Noctis kissing me?

P: The answer is a magnificent No!  ☆ ～(‘▽^人)

*sound effect of sad Aaw*

P: *sigh* I know, I know. Pretty disappointing. He’s missing a lot.

P: So you can skip this video if that was what you were looking for, BUT, you’d miss the opportunity to see… “Cockatiel Chef” *picture of Ignis pops up* and “Boulder Bookworm” *picture of Gladio pops up* make out in front of the camera, oh yeah  („ಡωಡ„)

P: Please don’t tell them I called them that.

P: So as you know, Noct’s adviser and his Shield are dating-

P: Creepy.

P: -And they’re gonna give the Chapstick challenge a go!

P: *taking the camera off the tripod to carry it in hands* Let’s say hello to…Mr. Gladiolus Shield Amicitia, and Mr. Ignis Adviser Scientia!

*Prom turns the camera so instead of self-filming, he’s filming said guests.*

*They’re in a cozy apartment or home, nothing too extravagant; both are sat at the sofa, and it seems they had been casually talking before this, and they wave at the camera as casually and carefree as if though Prompto had as casually started filming this instead of this being prepared*

P: Say hello, you two!

G: Hello, you two!

P: That was lame.

I: Hello, everyone.

P: Ignis, classy as always.

P: *self filming again* Now, you may be wondering…how did Prompto get *visuals of a black background and big, thick captions in red appearing word per word as Prompto says with a dramatic voice* THE HOTTEST COUPLE OF EOS *black background turns into animated fire; screen goes back to Prompto as normal* to agree on Chapstick challenge? Gladio and Ignis, the relationship made public, still don’t often show PDA to the media or even at work at all, so- how did I get them to agree to not only kiss to the camera but also accept the Chapstick Challenge?

P: ANSWER IS:

P: I did not!

P: Honestly the only thing I did was to say ‘Hey, why don’t you try the chapstick challenge?’ and they agreed before I even explained what it was.

P: *turns the camera to them* Wanna explain that?

G: Eh, yes. Thing is *points at Ignis* This idiot over here says that he’s got a more sensible and better developed sense of taste than I do. And obviously that can’t be.

I: Honestly, it can be and is. This twat over here *points at Gladio* thinks that only because between the two of us it is me who cooks and he who swallows the entire refrigerator at once-

G: I do not-

I: -he’s got a more sensible sense of taste than me. Which is obviously ridiculous.

G: See, what you say makes no sense. It’s obvious that the one that eats more has a better sense of taste, and that’s…me.

I: *sarcastic, elegant laugh* Gladiolus. Dear. *places fingertips to his own chest* I am the chef.

G: ….so?

I: So, it is obvious I’ve got a better sense. It’s not about how much you eat, but how many things you’ve tasted. As a cook, I’ve tasted many, many ingredients and a wide variety of dishes, most of which you couldn’t even pronounce the name of.

P: OOOOOOOOH!

G: That was low. Right, okay, but it’s not about who’s eating more or better. It’s whose tongue is more sensible to the ART of the culinary art itself.

I: That makes no sense.

*G & I continue to argue*

P: *self-filming again* ……

P: So what happened is, these two have been arguing over this for days, I got exhausted, and I suggested-

P: sarcastically and not even expecting them to have heard

P: - “hey why don’t you make the Chapstick Challenge? I mean, it does have a lot to do with the ‘sense of taste’”, and because all their ‘arguments’ end up in them making-out anyway, why not argue, figure the answer, and make-out all at once?

P: Just when I said what it was about both screamed ‘YES’ and didn’t even question me or the game; they only needed to know there was a game where they could compete against each other and prove who’s better, and the rest doesn’t matter.

P: These two are so competitive over everything.

P: Honestly I’m not sure if I respect or fear them.

P: *sounds of the couple friendly arguing in the background* …

P: Okay just- let me control these two

*black screen, the chocobo theme, and the captions ‘84 hours later…’*

P: AAAAH! So, where were we? (￣▽￣*)ゞ

P: Right!

P: *filming the couple, still sat at the sofa at a height that suggests Prompto put the tripod at a similar height as if the camera were his own eyes and he’s sat across them. Gladio and Ignis look at the camera, both smiling each their way; Ignis has a leg crossed, and Gladio rests the head against a hand. Both are paying attention*

P: So, what we will do is….here I have, packed and new-

G: *contains a laugh as Prom speaks, Ignis subtly nudges at him*

P: -*showing to the camera* twenty different chapsticks, all a different flavor. So I’m going to put them all in this bag *showing it to the camera*, we’re gonna, you know…shake it-

G: *is about to burst out laughing again; Ignis, once more, tries to subtly nudge at him but starts starting-to-laugh as well*

P: -and I’m going to pick a random one, so while one of them is blindfolded-

I: *snorts*

G: *laughs as quietly as possible*

P: …

P:….what?

P: ….

P:… ohmYGO-

*black screen, high pitched beep, and captions in white ‘We’re experimenting technical difficultitties, please stand by’ and a ‘lol u read that wrong’ pointing at the ‘difficultitties’*

*Back to the couple sat at the sofa, different poses, both are smiling as if recently done with laughter. Ignis’ expression could be saying ‘My gods, what the heck are we doing?’ but he looks amused*

P: So as I was saying, we put the chapsticks in the bag, one of them closes the eyes or wears this absolutely beautiful eye mask, I pick a random chapstick, I give it to the one that didn’t close the eyes, so he puts it on, they…do that thing with kissing, and the other tries to figure the flavor! Easy enough, guys?

G: Yep.

I: Understood.

P: Okay, so…who goes first?

G: Me, of course.

P: You’re not gonna fight that, Iggy?

I: Not really.

P: Okay, so, have the eye mask, Big Guy.

G: *while they talk unimportant stuff, takes the mask, sees it and laughs, puts it on. It’s got a pair of big Kenny-Crow eyes on them.*

I: *stares at him trying not to laugh*

G: So. How do I look?

I: Terrifyingly handsome.

G: I know. *smirks for a moment, and then starts making kissy gestures at Ignis*

I: *holds it only a moment, bursts out laughing and smacks Gladio in the face*

*change of moment, same scene*

P: Okay, so…I pick a random one and… *digging into the bag; takes one out, shows it to the camera. Works on the lense’s focus so it can be readable. It reads ‘Coconut’*

P: *shows it to Ignis*

I: *sigh* I am disappointed. This represents no challenge to either of us, but…

G: *talks unimportant matters while Ignis puts the chapstick on,who’s only replying sarcastic ‘Huh’s at Gladio’s ranting*

G: You’re not listening, are you?

I: Are you going to kiss me or not?

G: *short but exaggerated deep breath, moves towards Ignis blindly* Come ‘ere you loser.

I: *reaches closer to him and uses a fingertip under Gladio’s jaw to guide him*

G: *holds his face and pulls him close, holding him in place, and kisses him*

I: *smiles during the kiss*

G: *kisses him more*

*chibi-like Prompto’s head popping from a corner with the little caption OMG*

G: *pulls apart and licks own lips, making unnecessary/exaggerated noises of tasting*

I: *smiles, lips still ghosting and face still trapped in Gladio’s hands*

G: Hmm….this tastes and smells like your shampoo.

I: *rolls eyes, but keeps smiling*

G: That’s easy. This is coconut.

P: *cheering, at the time Fanfare song plays background and a chibi Prompto appears from the bottom of the screen, holding two little flags*

I: Okay. My turn.

G: HAH. See, I got it at the first try *pulls mask off* I am the master of this, Iggy, I don’t know why you still want to try.

I: Honestly, this one shouldn’t even count.

G: Oh, so you’re not gonna count it?

I: Yes, I am. But the only reason I’m counting it is because you’ll do so poorly with the next ones that it will embarrass me that your counter stays 0 by the end.

P: OOOOOOOOOOOOOH

G: *exaggerated offended expresion*

G: That hurt.

I: Good.

P: *laughs*

G: You are so mean. What are you waiting for, put it on!

I: I am not putting that frightening mask on myself. I am beautiful as I am.

G: *rolls eyes* Put it on, it’s to be sure you won’t look and cheat.

I: I can just close my eyes.

G: Unfair.

I: What, do you not trust me?

G: No.

*background music stops playing at the time Ignis gasps; Gladio & Ignis hold eye contact in total silence, tense*

*dramatic piano music; screen shows a black and white picture of the couple as if it was about a poster for a dramatic movie, with captions ‘Are Gladnis breaking up!? Find out in Season 2′*

*back to normal screen, Gladnis friendly arguing lowly; Ignis ended up just closing the eyes*

*Prompto’s digging for a new chapstick and shows it to the camera; it reads ‘Ebony’*

G: UNFAIR. Pick another one.

I: That’s cheating.

G: Shut up, Scientia.

*dramatic zoom to Ignis’ face, as he raises an eyebrow. Chibi Prompto pops out with caption ‘LMAO Gladio gonna DIE’*

*Prompto takes out a new chapstick. It reads ‘cake batter’*

G: *exasperated sigh* My god, what did you buy, ‘Ignis’ choices of chapstick flavors’?

*the guys talk while Gladio puts the chapstick on; they friendly argue when Ignis asks him if he’s done, Gladio bursts into a Patience rant, and Ignis growls that that’s not what he meant*

G: Kay, I’m ready.

I: Okay. *awkward silence; voice louder as if nagging* Well would you be so KIND to come kiss me? I can’t see.

G: Didn’t know you kiss with the eyes.

P: *laughs*

I: That was lame.

G: Well, actually you do. You know your sweet, sweet gaze feels like a kiss to my heart, don’t you?

*background music stops playing, at the time Ignis turns the head in Gladio’s direction and smiles. Ignis puts a hand up and sweetly caresses the Shield’s face with his knuckles*

*Screen changes to a chibi Prompto that looks between terrified and disgusted*

*Back to normal screen. Gladio takes Ignis by the face again and brings him close, guiding him. He closes the eyes when their lips meet. Ignis kisses him very slowly only a few times; takes as long as Gladio did, except slower*

I: *pulls apart and stays quiet*

G: …so?

I: Hm. It’s tricky. I am going to assume this may be vanila?

G: HAH.

I: What?

G: WRONG.

I: Seriously?

P: This says ‘Cake batter’, Iggy.

I: ….

I: Nonsense. That doesn’t taste like cake batter at all.

G: Loser.

I: It’s unfair, does it taste like cake batter to you?

G: Yes.

I: You don’t even know what cake batter tastes like, then.

G: You’re just claiming the flavor is nothing alike because you’re too proud to admit you’re mistaken; how is this not going to taste like it should, what is the point on naming it this then, what is-

*Prompto self-films a blank expression while the couple argues background*

*Next chapstick Prompto pulls reads ‘Ebony’. There are many complaints, but Ignis accepts it claiming he’s not a cheater ‘like some others’, puts it on and reaches for Gladio. The couple kisses for a while, and Gladio lingers on his lower lip, with a ‘Hmmm’ of thinking before he lets go of Ignis’ mouth.*

G: …that’s…I don’t know…bitter cocoa?

P: *bursts into quiet laughter*

I: *snorts*

G: What?

I: I feel personally offended, Gladiolus. By this point of our relationship you should be pretty acquaintanced with my favorite drink.

G: Wha- *pulls mask off, reaches for the chapstick on the table and reads it, shocked. He looks at it intensely like the more he stares could make the flavor change; eventually puts it down and turns to Ignis*

G: That doesn’t taste a single bit like Ebony!

I: *raising the pitch of his voice* ‘You’re just claiming the flavor is nothing alike because you’re too proud to admit you’re mistaken’

G: How DARE you use my own words against me, Scientia

I: See, these don’t even taste at all like they should. You lose this round.

G: Wha-!? Not fair! Bu- say, we’re still 1 - 0 to my favor. I’m winning. I lost the battle but not war.

I: A rough beginning tends to predict a sweeter victory for the one in disadvantage.

*Prompto continues to pull chapsticks from the bag, showing them to the camera, and handing them to the respective gamer. Eventually, the count is 5 - 6 to Ignis’ favor*

G: *exasperated sigh after losing again*

P: *laughing* Heeeey, Big Guy, what is the probleeeem? I thought you had this!?

G: Shut up, blondie.

I: Rough beginning; a sweeter victory.

G: You too shut up. Your turn, babe.

*Prompto digs through the chapstick; by this point Ignis has closed the eyes and is staring away, waiting; the mask has been thrown behind the sofa 3 chapsticks ago. Prompto murmurs a ‘what the f*ck?’ and shows the chapstick to the camera; it reads ‘Popcorn flavor’. He hands it to Gladio, who, after reading it, stares up at Prompto and makes a face that clearly asks ‘How in Eos is that even possible, wtf does this mean???’, but none share a word. Gladio shrugs and starts putting it on*

*Gladio finishes putting it on and turns to Ignis, claiming he’s ready*

*Ignis tries to get close but doesn’t get anywere when-*

G: *sigh* Iggy, this won’t work, it’s stupid and awkward-

*P and I are asking him separatedly what does he mean, but Gladio continues talking no interruptions*

G:- we’ve been sat side to side all awkward and it’s uncomfortable, if I’m going to be kissing you for like another two hours I want to be comfy and I want to hug you, so you have to come ‘re-

*Gladio’s hands sneak around Ignis’ hips and under his ass at the time the Shield turns to his side and tucks the legs onto the sofa, scoops Ignis up at the same time and pulls him onto his lap so he’s straddling him, his thighs at each of Gladio’s sides, even though camera doesn’t offer a sight of it, showing from torso to head, Ignis barely reacting or having time to do so*

G: *serious* See, much easier and comfy!

I: *blinks a bit startled at first, but immediately smiles softly. He gets secured in his place crossing the ankles behind Gladio’s back, without applying pressure, and rests his hands on the Shield’s shoulders*

I: Much easier and comfortable, indeed.

P: Eeew, you guys going to do the thing or are you turning this into a cheesy romantic video?

G: What, wasn’t this supposed to be so already?

I: *laughs very quietly*

G: Kay, chapstick’s on, Iggy. So, kiss me.

I: Make me.

G: *raises eyebrow; dramatic zoom to it; dramatic extra zoom and black and white filter along dramatic music for a few seconds*

*screen back to normal*

*Ignis reaches down to kiss Gladio; his hands still rest on Gladio’s shoulder and they caress subtly on them. He’s got the eyes softly closed, like the Shield. Both focus on the kiss for a moment. Gladio tries to break apart, but Ignis requests ‘One more’ and they lean into the kiss only an inch after separating.*

*Ignis asks Gladio for ‘one more’ around five times; by the fourth, Prompto’s face appears by the corner, with a disgusted expression; by the fifth and as they kiss the Shield widens a smile*

G: *not opening the eyes, lips still rubbing on Ignis’* You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t ya?

I: *soft chuckle* You wish. One more.

*Gladio laughs softly only for a second before leaning closer for another kiss.*

I: *a few seconds after breaking apart* This…is…new.

G: *smirks at him*

Ignis: …I don’t know. Honey?

G: Yes, sweetheart?

I: *smacks his shoulder; Gladio only laughs*

I: Is it honey flavour or not?

P: *sound of Fail/Rejection similar to a NYEH*

I: Wha-!? But why!?

G: *laughs* See, you suck at this game, too. It’s nowhere close, does it taste like honey to you?

I: Of course not, but-

G: Then why the hell would you say so?

I: -No, listen, it’s just- the Cake batter flavor didn’t taste like Cake batter, the Caramel didn’t taste like caramel at all, Sugar was almost the entire opposite, so if nothing tastes like its name suggests, Honey wouldn’t either so as this doesn’t taste like Honey but is similar to-

Gladio: Ohmygod, Ignis, it’s Popcorn.

I: How is that even a flavour!?

G: Look, I didn’t make the rules!

*Prompto self-films his blank expression again while the couple continues arguing background*

*The next that Prompto digs from the bag is Cherry. Ignis looks at it and smiles, and mouths at the camera that ‘Gladio will like this one’’; captions included for those not catching it and non-native speakers*

*Prompto has to get closer to hand it over to Ignis seen as both refuse to move from their “Comfy Love Nest”. Ignis takes it, argues with Gladio when the Shield gets worked up by Ignis’ telling him to ‘keep the eyes closed’, ranting about trust issues and going full fake drama on him while Ignis rolls the eyes and puts the chapstick on*

*Ignis hands it back to Prompto, and as he moves the lips to spread the chapstick on them real good, camera makes a zoom into his face and captions write ’Fabulous’. A note appear saying ‘Ignis got angry at me for that caption. He said I forgot to add ‘& Splendid’*

I: Okay *rests the forearms on Gladio’s shoulders* I’m ready.

G: Kay, come and kiss me. I miss you already.

*Quick appearance of doodle Prompto’s disgusted face*

I: *laughing softly and leaning down* Aren’t you the smooth talker?

*Gladio smiles but doesn’t reply; Ignis pressed their lips together and Gladio catches Iggy’s; they kiss only twice before they pull apart half-an-inch*

G: *shaky voice* Oh, my Six, I like this one.

I: *subtle turn to look at the camera and half-nods as if saying ‘Told you’*

*While Ignis did that Gladio had reached up for another kiss, but found Ignis’ cheek instead; the pressure makes Ignis’ cheek sink and grow rounder, and the adviser grins happily while Gladio complains on ‘where did your mouth go?’ Ignis turns to face him again, still happily smiling, before reaching to kiss him again*

*kisses lingers too much. background music stops playing to make this much moreawkward on purpose (for viewers, that is)*

*Gladio purrs out a ‘Hm, yeah’ after another kiss and doesn’t break apart. Ignis keeps smiling and lets Gladio kiss him long and slow. The Shield still hugs him by the waist, very softly, and Ignis moves the hands to Gladio’s face to cup it*

I: One more?

G: Just shut up.

*Ignis gets to laugh for only one second before locking the lips with Gladio’s again. Along the kiss Ignis asks ‘You done yet?’, ‘Got the answer?’, ‘Is that enough?’ and other similar questions, only to be answered with ‘Nope’s, ‘One More’s, and ‘I need another hint’ and similar responses*

*The kiss goes on for thirty slow seconds in silence and awkward.*

*Dramatic zoom in to the counter* *Dramatic zoom to the kissing couple* *Zoom into the time counter* *Zoom into the couple, and then a dramatic zoom into Ignis’ thumb (the one the camera can see) catching the subtle way it caresses Gladio’s face*

*Black screen with an entire white toon Prompto with a blank expression*

*Zoom into counter that reads 3 minutes into the kiss*

*Back to toon Prompto, this time terrified while screeching*

*Back to normal screen; the couple is still kissing, holding each other and mouths connected. Gladio looks rather serious and focused, Ignis looks happy and purely content*

P: *standing up and crossing the camera’s sight* That’s it, I can’t, I won’t stare at this all day.

G: Oi, blondie!

P: *stops and turns as if prepared to retake the game.*

G: *stretches a hand towards him, palm up* But leave that cherry chapstick with us.

*Screen with terrified, screeching Prompto again, zoomed in*

I: *sighs and closes eyes*

G: *smirks up at him* Can’t miss it. This one does taste of cherry.

I: Alright. That’s a point to you.

P: That makes the game even!

I: …*looks at a side*

I: …actually…that’s not quite correct.

P: Huh? Of course it is, it says on the-

I: *gestures for him to keep quiet, talks slowly and in a clear lie* No. Apologies. It is not cherry, Gladio.

G: Oh? *smirks and raises an eyebrow* It isn’t? *pecks Ignis on the lips* *fake gasp; talks with faked, flamboyant voice* You’re right. It is not cherry. I am afraid I can’t name it… Some come ‘ere, I gotta study this real good.

*Both lean into the kiss; this time, Ignis wraps his arms around Gladio’s neck and Gladio hugs him tighter*

P: *crosing the camera again in the opposite direction than before*

P: Eeeeew I AM- DISGUSTED.

I: *not opening the eyes and basically mid kiss* You suggested we’d make this.

G: Can’t complain, sunshine boy *immediately retakes his slow kissing with Ignis*

*screen shows the couple for a few moments, before it turns blue & golden with jazz music background and captions ‘I came back thirty minutes later and found them-’ ; caption changes into a smirk emoji; changes to new captions reading: ‘NAPPING, THESE IDIOTS WERE NAPPING WTF I FEEL LEFT OUT >:’(*

*screen comes back to the living room, the couple is sat side by side on the sofa, holding hands; Gladio yawns heavily and Ignis, head rested on the Shield’s shoulder, sometimes rubs at his eyes; Prompto’s inventing a silly rant on how it is rude to nap on the prince’s couch without his permission, lecturing them like it’s a serious issue except he sounds silly and trying not to laugh*

*silence with the sleepy couple after Prompto shuts up; Gladio’s staring at Ignis and lazily plants a kiss on top of his head, and Ignis rubs at his eye from under his glasses once more before putting the fist down*

P: ….did you understand?

I: ….*sleepy* what?

Chibi Prompto appears at a corner, laughing

*same scene, different moment*

P: SO! We’re obviously not doing ALL the chapsticks we’ve got or this video would be like three hours long-

P: Especially with how long these two take with their smooching

P:- so we’re keeping it there! Are you guys content with the results?

G: *lazy smile* Yeah…

I: But you didn’t win.

G: So? You didn’t win either.

I: …true.

P: See, that must mean that I win. I was never mistaken.

G: *laughs* That doesn’t count.

I: He didn’t get any kiss. Let him have some triumph.

G: *histerically laughing*

*a :’( appears on screen*

P: that was mean. So mean. *Gladio’s still laughing* You know what guys, this is the last time I guest feature you in my channel. *another :’( appears* Why are you so mean to me

I: *Tenderly and quietly, with a little smile* We love you, Prompto.( ´ ▽ ` )

*silence*

*A :’) appears*

P: Ohmygod, Iggy, that’s… *a ;A; appears on screen* That’s so nice, I love you too!

I: Really?

P: Yeah!

I: Nice :)

G: And do you guys love me?

P: Yeah!

I: No.

P: Oh. *pauses before bursting out in laughter*

*Gladio only lets out a little ‘Dammit’.

*screen goes back to Prompto as the video started, with the camera on the tripod, giving its back to the sofa/living room area, and Prompto as the focus, only the wall visible behind him*

P: Well, guys, that was it for the Chapstick Challenge, royal edition! Featuring Iggy and Gladio, the chamberlain and the Shield of the prince, but, more than just that, his friends and brothers, and who I’ve had the pleasure to know and befriend as well.

P: I hope you enjoyed this new video for ‘Princefriending - A Common Friend’ it was a pretty traumatic experience to me in some points, but- I had fun and they did too, so…hope you guys had fun too!

P: If you liked this video do consider liking it and suscribing in the buttons down below.

P: Like always, remember to stay well hydrated, stretch those legs, and-

P: *dramatic gesture of self-hugging*

P: Receive a TIGHT, TIGHT HUG from me-

P: And see you next-

P: *looking off screen, as if offended* O h  m y g o d, THEY FELL ASLEEP AGAIN>:’(

P: I can’t believe them, it’s like I don’t even exist-

P: *quiet*

P: *stares at both sides*

P: *stares at the camera*

P: * smirks and glares at the camera*

P: *same expression than before, but now he’s holding up a marker*

P: *same than before, but there’s a filter ofanimated fire and sound effect of a demon-like laughter*

P: *back to normal filter and happy looks as if nothing had happened*

P: So, see you next time!

P: *Kisses two of his fingertips and uses both hands to salute, waving them from his forehead to the outside; winks and says ‘See ya!’*

*screen changes to the blue&white background, 8-bit chocobo themeplaying, and a toon Prompto sits in a corner with a pet chocochick; two other thumbnails show rounded by their respective links*

*Three seconds of a photo of Gladio and Ignis asleep; Gladio lies on the couch, and Ignis sleeps on top of him, head to the Shield’s chest. They’re hugged during sleep. They’ve got whiskers, chocobos, little toon Promptos and little hearts all over their faces. Gladio has a unibro and Ignis was given a mustache*

*End of video*

Hahaha, well this was a lot of fun! I feel like this turned out rather ‘short’ compared to the time I feel I spent here, but I’m content with the result.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! (o´▽`o)

Tip me with a Ko-Fi?ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

[dontheevilbassman]

The Greatest Loss

     It was around 11 o’clock in the morning and the sand colored earth pony, Chief Vines, was sitting behind his desk, mending a net. “Think I’ll do the curry cart fer lunch.” The pony mused to himself as he absentmindedly scratched the mark on his flank, a set of dark green vines wrapped around a bright silver badge. The officer set the net down on his desk and pulled a silver case from his police uniform’s breast pocket. After pulling a dark red carrot from it and putting the spicy vegetable in his lips, he placed the case back in his pocket and looked towards the door to his office. Vines sighed and ran his hoof through his short dark brown mane.

     The police chief kicked a lever under his desk causing the office door to open a split second before a dark green pegasus in a police uniform flew into it. Vines tossed one end of the net onto a hook in the ceiling and threw the other end of it towards the pegasus, catching the officer before he could run into anything. “Kale! What in BLAZES is tha need for-”

     “OFFICER STAR JUS’ RAN INTO TOWN WITH AN INJURED PONY ON ‘ER BACK!” Officer Kale cried out, cutting off the chief. “BOTH COVERED IN BLOOD!!”

     Vines’ heart sank like a stone.

     “Where?” demanded Vines as he not so gently started to pull the pegasus out of the net.

     “Our Lady a’ the Sun!” Kale pulled his wing out of the net, loosing a feather in the process.

     “Not where she’s goin’,” the chief growled. “Where. Did. It. Happen?”

     “Uh,” stammered the green pony, “that wasn’t in the report.”

     “The recently discovered cavern near Crystal Falls.” A light grey coated unicorn stated as he entered Vines’ office. “Shadow mentioned that she was going with her cousin to explore it.” He pushed his copper glasses back up on his nose with a hoof. “The airship is ready to go, I assume that you are wanting to go to the probable scene?”

     “Right,” Vines replied, putting his police cap on. “Need ta get there fast.” He turned to Kale, “I want two officers sent ta Our Lady o’ tha Sun and keep an eye on Officer Star, but do NOT interrogate!”

     “Yes sir!”

     “LIEUTENANT THUNDER GUST!” The chief shouted over the noise of the police station causing instant silence.

     A dark blue coated pegasus hopped up from a desk. “Sir?” he called out in the silence.

     “Get ta tha district attorney’s office and let ‘em know what’s goin’ on!”

     “Head off rumors an’ speculation, chief?” Thunder Gust asked, putting on his police vest.

     “Exactly!” Vines replied, following the grey pony towards the exit. “News’s gonna travel fast.”

     “Then I’m gone!” The pegasus stallion bolted out a window, scattering papers from a few desks.

     “What do you think transpired?” The unicorn asked the chief, opening the door to the street.

     “I don’t wanna guess, Chisholm.” The police chief stepped out the door. “But this feeling in my gut.” He sighed, “says somethin’ bad.”

-------------------------------------

     “Say ah,” said a light green pegasus mare with a braided lavender mane as she pulled a tongue depressor from her white doctor’s coat.

     The little blue unicorn filly sitting on the exam table sniffled and opened her mouth, “Aaaaah.” A light red, blue maned unicorn mare stood nearby stroking the little one’s back.

     The pegasus pressed the little filly’s tongue down and peered in with a flashlight. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a bit of a cold, but it’s not the flu.” The doctor said as she turned off the light and tossed the depressor in the nearby trash.

     “Oh, thank goodness.” The red mare sighed.

     “Okay, Mrs. Lightmane. Here’s a prescription for some cough syrup and something to take care of the stuffy nose. She should start feeling better soon.” The pegasus turned and gave the mother a couple pieces of paper. “And also, a note for school. Skylight should stay home for the next 2 or 3 days to get better.” She ruffled the filly’s light red mane, passing a small sucker to the girl. “And you know the drill, plenty of fluids, rest, yada, yada.”

     The unicorn nodded with a chuckle and gathered her little one up in a blanket. “Thank you, doctor.” She cradled the sick filly as she left the room. “Let’s get you home, sweetie.”

     The pegasus waved as the pair left the exam room. She turned to the elder light brown unicorn that was sitting in the corner who smiled warmly at the mare. “Yada, yada?” he asked, tilting his head.

     “Well, it’s said so often it feels like a formality now.”

     The stallion pondered for a moment. “Well, Dart, every doctor has their own style,” he nodded in a sage like motion. “And, I like yada, yada.”

     “Thank you, Dr. Amber.” Dart stated as she changed the paper on the examination table. “I’m glad you’re my attending physician. I was surprised anypony would take me after I snapped at Director Faux.”

     “Eh, you were right.” Dr. Amber said, making a note on a clipboard. “And the good director wasn’t going to listen.”

     The mare chuckled, “I’m lucky that I didn’t get kicked out for-“ she started to say but was cut off as a dark grey earth pony mare dressed in scrubs entered the room. When Dart saw the nurse’s eyes, she knew something was wrong.

     “Doctor Silverhoof, your sister,” the nurse paused for a moment and collected herself. Dr. Amber was already on his hooves and moving over towards the young doctor. “Your sister… Shadow Star…” Dart’s eyes went wide as the nurse tried to continue. “Something happened, Jasper’s wing was…. And Shadow…”

     “Silver Ash, where are they?” Dr Amber asked softly, moving to the nurse and putting a hoof around her.

     “Emergency,” came the reply.

     A rush of air was the only thing that was left behind as Dart flew out the window and dove for the entrance to the Emergency room.

     “Room E25!” The nurse at the triage station called out as the mare flew into the lobby.

     Dart continued quickly, her mane scraping the ceiling as she flew. “THANK YOU!” She called back, turning down a hallway.

     “No flying in the Halls!” yelled an ivory colored earth pony doctor as the pegasus flew by him.

     “Family Emergency!”

     “Oh, okay then!” was the stallion’s reply, though the mare was long gone.

     Dart landed with a skid a bit away from room E25. Quickly, she made her way in, bumping into a yellow unicorn mare wearing blue scrubs as she passed the dividing curtain. “Dandelion, what’s going on?”

     The nurse gestured to a large light grey earth pony stallion nearby. “Thistle and I are trying to assist Doctor Ginseng.”

     “It’s not going well.” Thistle chimed in nodding towards a pink pegasus stallion with a short black mane that was backing slowly away from a deep purple mare. The mare sat on the floor, in front of the examination table, with unfocused eyes. She was covered in blood with her aqua mane horribly matted.

     “They hurt her….” the mare spoke softly as she looked down towards the floor.

     “Shadow?” Dart called to the blood covered mare.

     Dr. Ginseng looked to Dart when she spoke. “Are you here to take over?” He asked, sounding very hopeful.

     Dart shook her head as she ran to Shadow. “I can’t,” Putting her arms around Shadow. “She’s my sister!”

     Shadow hooked her sister’s arms and quickly stood. Dart shifted to resist the throw, but Shadow paused, looking at the green pegasus. “Dart?” Her eyes seemed to focus a bit and she settled back down onto the floor.

     “I’m here. I’m here.” Dart held onto the purple mare tightly.

     “They hurt her,” whispered Shadow.

     “What?” The doctor leaned back, looking at her sister. “Who hurt who?”

     “They hurt her,” Shadow’s eyes seemed far away.

     Dart ran a hoof over the mare’s matted mane. “What’s wrong?”

     “They hurt her…” the voice was barely a whisper.

     The green pegasus looked to Dr. Ginseng and the nurses with a concerned expression.

     The doctor blinked, “Shadow carried a pegasus in that was missing a wing.” He thought for a moment. “Jasper, I think was her name, and she was rushed into surgery and Shadow was brought in here, but we haven’t been able to get her triaged or anything.” He shook his head.

     “Haven’t been able to approach her at all,” stated Thistle. “Every time we started to get close,” He shrugged. “She would tense up, like she was getting ready to fight us.”

     “They hurt her…” Shadow looked down towards the floor, tears dropping to the ground.

     “That’s the only thing she’s been saying.”

     “I believe that a delicate hoof is needed,” Dr. Amber stated, walking into the room, followed by a small light orange earth pony mare in blue nurses’ scrubs. “We’ll take it from here, everyone.”

     “Thank you!” Dr. Ginseng replied with relief clearly in his voice. He turned and quickly exited the room.

     “I think us being in the room isn’t helping.” Thistle said, pulling Dandelion with him. “Good luck!” The two nurses left the room, pulling the dividing curtain back closed.

     “They hurt her…”

-------------------------------------

     The police air-ship arrived at the forest location and the investigators began to disembark. Chief Vines and Chisholm were the first to walk into the campsite at the mouth of the cavern. As they entered and took in the gruesome sight, Vines shook his head.

     “This is one o’ those times that I don’t like being right, Chisholm.” He said, putting a fire carrot in his mouth.

     “Understandable,” The light gray unicorn replied. “Haven’t seen anything like this in a long,” he looked up into a nearby tree, “Long time.”

     “Sir,” A light tan unicorn said as he entered into the campsite carrying a case, “Where do you want - BY CELESTIA!!” His eyes went wide as he took in the area. “I’m gonna, gonna…” the stallion said while turning green.

     “Outside the crime scene, please.” Chisholm calmly called to the unicorn investigator who turned and ran behind a tree. “If you have to get sick, do it away from the area.” He looked at the other investigators as they entered the camp. “I realize it’s pretty bad, but we have a job to do.”

     Vines watched as the investigators started to spread out around the campsite and Chisholm moved towards the entrance to the cavern, carrying a forensic kit. Several more of the ponies had a hard time processing the scene, having to run to the edge of the area to be sick.  

     “CHIEF!” called out a dark brown pegasus from the center of the campsite. Vines trotted over to the investigator and was joined by Chisholm. “This one’s breathing!”

     The police chief pulled a fire carrot from a silver case as he looked down. “Looks like we got a witness.”

--------------------------------------

     “WHERE’S MY BABY?” shouted a dark green pegasus mare as she galloped into the emergency room, a couple of rollers in her lavender mane. Several pegasus ponies followed close behind. “WHERE IS SHE?”

     A yellow unicorn looked up from her paperwork as the mare stopped at the reception desk. “Umm…. Who are you looking for?” she asked.

     “My little filly!” The pegasus mare cried.

     “We are looking for Shadow Star and Jasper Silverhoof,” stated a silver coated pegasus as he stepped up next to the green mare, placing a hoof on her shoulder.

     “And you are?”

     “Her mother!”

     “We are Shadow Star’s parents,” the stallion answered. “And Jasper’s aunt and uncle.” He pointed back to the other pegasus ponies that had arrived. “These are her cousins.”

     “Jasper is in surgery,” An ivory coated earth pony stated as he stepped up next to the group.

     “SURGERY?!?” The mother shouted, whirling on the yellow maned doctor, a roller landing on the receptionist’s papers.

     “Her right wing had been severed,” stated the doctor looking at a paper on the clipboard he had picked up. “So, she is in surgery for that.”

     With wide eyes, the mare covered her mouth with her hoof, “Sweet Celestia!” Anger quickly took hold of the her and a fire flared in her eyes. She leaned towards the doctor, reaching out to catch hold of his coat. “Who Hurt Her?” Her voice menacing.

     The silver coated stallion caught the mare’s hoof before she grabbed the doctor. “Calm yourself, Anmitsu,” he said gently. The mare looked at the silver pegasus and dropped her hoof. Turning to the ivory pony, the stallion continued. “My apologies, doctor. I am Taneuma Silverhoof, and this is my wife,” He gestured to the green mare. “Anmitsu Silverhoof.”

     “I’m sorry,” Anmitsu sighed. “I get a little protective of my family.”

     The doctor smiled warmly, “I understand.” He tucked the clipboard under an arm and held a hoof out. “I’m Sundrop, the doctor in charge of the emergency room today.” Taneuma shook the offered hoof followed by Anmitsu doing the same. “Follow me, I’ll take you to where Shadow is.” He paused and looked back at the other ponies. “I’m afraid that only you two will be able to come back with me. The others will have to wait out here. Not enough room.”

     “Kids,” Anmitsu called to the others, “Some of you wait here and couple of you head to the school just in case Jade and Lighting go there.” The group nodded and began to discuss who would stay and who would go.

     Sundrop led the ponies down a hallway and to room E25. As they approached, the curtain was pulled back and Dart emerged, gently guiding Shadow into the hall.

     Anmitsu gasped when she saw the state that her daughter was in. “GIRLS!” The dark green mare cried as she rushed up to the pair. Shadow’s head snapped around, her body starting to shift into a defensive stance. Anmitsu didn’t slow down as she saw the reaction, she just threw her arms and wings around the purple pony.

     “Momma?” whispered Shadow as she dropped the defensive posture.

     “Momma’s here, baby,” the dark green pegasus tightened her embrace. “What happened to you?” She inquired.

     “They hurt her…”

     Taneuma placed a hoof on Shadows back. He looked to Dart, concern evident on his face. “What happened?”

     “I don’t know, poppa.” Dart replied, tears in her eyes. “That’s all she’s been saying.” She wiped at her eyes. “We have to get her cleaned up to see if she’s hurt.”

     “I thought you couldn’t treat family.”

     “She can’t,” Dr. Amber stated as he stepped up, making sure to stay back from the purple mare. “Due to the nature of this situation and state of my patient, Dr. Dart is assisting myself and Marigold.” He nodded to the small light orange mare that was next to him. “I’m Amber, Dart’s mentor.”

     “A pleasure, Dr Amber.” Taneuma nodded to the doctor. “Dart speaks very highly of you. I’m Taneuma and this is Anmitsu.”

     “I hope to live up to that.” Dr Amber pointed down the hall. “But for now, we need to get to the showers and get Shadow cleaned up so I can see the extent of her injuries.”

     “What about Jasper?” asked the silver stallion as the group began moving in the direction the doctor indicated. “We heard she was in surgery.”

     Dr. Amber nodded, “She’s in the very capable hooves of Dr. Osso and his team.”

     “We sent word to her parents in Canterlot, they should be here by tomorrow. Any idea on what happened?” Taneuma sounded hopeful.

     Amber shook his head, “Not much, I’m afraid. We know that they were attacked, and Jasper’s wing had been severed. She had lost a lot of blood, and somehow Shadow managed to carry her here while keeping a lot of pressure on the wound.”

     “Why hasn’t she been cleaned up yet?” Anmitsu asked, continuing to help keep the purple mare moving.

     “No pony could get close until I got there, Momma.” Dart said, keeping a hoof on Shadow’s shoulder. The group entered an exam room with a large attached bathroom.

     As they entered, Anmitsu stroked Shadow’s back and whispered, “What did they do to you?”

     “They hurt her…”

     The two pegasus mares led Shadow into the bathroom and to the large shower, sitting the purple pony under the spout. Dr Amber stepped in, “Marigold and I will be right here, tell us if you need anything.”

     Dart nodded. “I’ll let you know what I see,” the light green mare stated, tossing her doctors coat to Taneuma. Her mother turned on the shower, icy cold water poured out of the shower head, striking Shadow. The mare didn’t flinch or move in anyway, just continued to look down at the floor. After a moment, steam started to build as the water warmed.

     As the grime began to wash away, Shadow lifted her front hooves and stared at them, the red water flowing. She began to visibly tremble, her eyes wide, then she started to scream. Anguish and terror filled the air, her eyes riveted to her hooves, dark red washing over them and pooling beneath her.

     “ANMITSU!” Dr Amber shouted. “DON’T LET HER LOOK DOWN! MAKE HER FOCUS ON YOU!”

     The dark green pegasus put a hoof under Shadow’s chin, lifting the mare’s gaze to hers. “Honey look at me, you’re safe. Nothing can hurt you here.” She spoke softly, stroking Shadow’s mane, tears in her eyes, mixing with the spray from the shower, her heart breaking. “Momma’s here, I’ll keep you safe. Poppa and Dart are here too. Shh, shh, shh, shh.”

     “THEY HURT HER!” cried Shadow, anguish filling her voice.

     “I know. I know. You both are here. You’re safe.” Anmitsu’s voice cracked, emotion straining to break free. The mare looked at her daughter and saw her as she was, before the unicorn started dying her coat and mane. She saw Shadow as the scrawny little filly they took in, with a light lavender coat, almost pink, and a fiery red mane, resembling glowing embers. “Jasper’s going to get better. We need to get you taken care of. Shhhh.”

     Taneuma watched as his wife struggled to bring their daughter back from the nightmare that held her, the agony of seeing his daughter in pain etched upon his features. He looked to Dart as she concentrated on washing Shadow, getting her clean, checking the mare for injuries as she went. Even with the water from the shower, he could see the tears in her eyes, affected by Shadow’s cries as much as he was.

     “Momma’s got you,” whispered Anmitsu, stroking the distraught mare, looking into Shadow’s eyes, finding them to still be distant and unfocused. “Momma won’t let anything happen. Just… just please… please come back to me.” The purple mare’s cries began to get softer, becoming quiet sobs, her trembling starting to subside. “Keep looking at me, sweetie.” Momma started to gently wash her daughter’s mane, keeping her eyes locked with Shadow’s, not letting the mare lower her head. “We’re going to get you all clean.”

     Dart leaned her head against her sister’s back, wrapping her forelegs and wings around the mare. She closed her eyes and squeezed, trying to bring some comfort to Shadow before continuing to wash her.

     Time ticked by slowly as mother and daughter washed the purple unicorn, carefully keeping her eyes away from the floor and checking her for injuries. Anmitsu turned the water off, allowing Shadow’s eyes to drift back to the now clean floor. Taneuma approached with towels and began to assist his wife with getting their daughter dry.

     “I didn’t see any obvious injuries,” Dart commented to Dr Amber and Marigold as she dried herself. “Shadow isn’t in any state to tell us if anything hurts.” She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

     “You did good, Doctor,” Amber stated. “Admirable work so far. I know this is difficult, but you are doing very well.”

     “Thank you.”

     “When we get to the room, we’ll have to run an IV.” The doctor gave a nod to Marigold who slipped out of the room. “Marigold will get everything set up for us. We’re heading to 3N46.”

     Dart tilted her head, “That’s the intensive care wing… Oh, that’s where Jasper’s going to be taken after the surgery!”

     Dr. Amber gave the young doctor a smile, “You are correct.” He looked past Dart, at Taneuma and Anmitsu as they had started to braid Shadow’s wild mane. The parents softly sang a lullaby to the mare as they worked. “Once they’re done, we’ll head up.” He looked back to Dart, “Will you be able to run an IV?”

     “I can,” Dart nodded. “I don’t think… she’ll even notice.” The mare’s voice cracked a bit as she spoke.

     Dr. Amber gave her a pat on the shoulder, “We’ll get her through this.”

     The young pegasus looked at the older doctor, “Do you know what’s wrong?”

     “I don’t know yet if anything is physically wrong.” Amber spoke softly, running a hoof through his short, grey mane. “But her mind has been injured and her heart shattered. That’s what I think.” He stood up. “These types of injuries take a long time to diagnose and even longer to heal.”

     “We’re ready.” Taneuma said as he guided Shadow over with Anmitsu on the other side of the mare.

     “Let’s get to the room,” Dr. Amber gestured for everypony to follow him as he turned an began to walk to the elevator.

-----------------------

     Darkness greeted the griffin as he opened his eyes, only a small sliver of light came from under the door. His chest ached along with his right hind leg and left wing, keeping him from wanting to move too much. He lifted his right foreleg and found a set of cuffs locking him to the bed.

     “Oh good, yer awake,” said a voice coming from the darkness, followed by the soft click of a lamp. Across the room a sand colored pony in a police uniform stood in the lamp light. “I got some questions for ya.”

     “We were attacked!” the griffin exclaimed. “We were just there to… uh…,” He looked around nervously as his mind raced. “FISH! Yeah! We were fishin’!”

     “Really?” The officer calmly asked, pulling a carrot from a silver case. “Fishin’ without tha gear?”

     “Uhh…. yes?”

     “How ‘bout this,” the pony said, as he pulled a large roasting match from a vest pocket. “I’m Sandy Vines, chief of tha Vanhoover police force.” Vines lit the match and started to run it under the carrot he held. “An’ I wanna know why ya ripped off a pegasus’s wing and assaulted one o’ my officers.”

     “Well, see…. Uhm,” The griffon stammered, sweat forming on his brow. His eyes met the police chief’s and he went completely still.

     “Let’s start with yer name.”

     “Graft.”

     “Well, Graft,” Vines spoke calmly, twirling the carrot slowly over the flame of the roasting match, his eyes never leaving the griffon’s. “Tha truth is gonna help ya a lot more than lyin’.”

     Graft nodded and swallowed hard, something about this pony made him not want to make the chief mad. “Okay, but um… what… um… happened to me? Why do I ache so much?”

     “If it weren’t fer tha pain killers, that ache would be a whole lot worse,” the police chief blew out his roaster match. “Ya got a broken leg and dislocated wing, along with a couple of holes in yer chest, courtesy of a minin’ pick.” He told the griffon, wafting the roasted fire carrot in the air a few times.

     “Ow.”

     “Yeah, ow.” Vines pulled a chair over and sat down at the foot of Graft’s bed. “Now, tell me everythin’ that happened.” Said the chief, placing the roast vegetable in his lips, with his eyes riveted on the injured Graft.

     The griffon closed his eyes for a moment, when he opened them again Graft looked straight at the officer and spoke softly. “Alright, this is what we did.”

---------------

     The sun was already low in the sky when Jasper was brought into the room. Dart was sitting on a bed with Shadow next to her, a wing wrapped carefully around the purple unicorn as to not disturb the IV in Shadow’s foreleg. Taneuma turned in his seat next to the window as Jasper was rolled in. Shadow lifted her head and watched as her cousin was being brought into the room.

     Anmitsu followed the medical ponies, carrying a couple small bags of chips. She looked to the tan unicorn who seemed to be in charge, “Can you tell us how she is?”

     “Of course!” the stallion replied. “I’m Dr. Osso, I was the one who did Jasper’s surgery.” He gave a nod to the medical technicians as they finished settling the pale red pegasus and exited the room. “Even though she had lost a lot of blood, Jasper pulled through with flying colors!” The doctor paused, “I should have phrased that differently.” He gave an awkward laugh. “Anyway. Due to the damage, I was unable to reattach her wing. The bone was just slivers.”

     Taneuma stepped up next to his wife and put a hoof around her. “We didn’t know that her wing was brought in with her.”

     Osso nodded, “Oh it was, but whatever happened that severed it, twisted it around,” the surgeon started demonstrating with his hooves. “And pulled at the same time, causing the bone to just basically,” Anmitsu covered her mouth with her hoof as the doctor continued, her eyes going wide. “explode! I figure that at least an inch of bone was missing from what was broumphmrphe!” A light orange hoof slammed over the unicorn’s mouth, stopping him mid ramble.

     “Love,” Marigold said softly to the unicorn, “You really need ease up on your rambling.” She smiled at Taneuma and Anmitsu, “My apologies for my husband’s rambling.” She looked back to Osso, “Are you going to give them an update and not a dissertation?” The doctor nodded and the little orange nurse removed her hoof from Osso’s mouth.

     Osso gave the pair an embarrassed smile, “Sorry about that. I just ramble sometimes.” He stopped and looked at Anmitsu, “Why do you have a roller in your mane?”

     “It’s still in there?” the mare reached a hoof back and pulled the remaining roller out, “My niece was practicing her mane therapy training. She was curling my mane when we got the news.”

     “I can completely sympathize,” Marigold commented.

     “Okay, so the update on Jasper,” Osso nodded as he spoke. “Her wing can’t be repaired, she lost a lot of blood, and she has some bruising. So, she should recover completely.” He blinked, “Um, other than missing a wing.”

     “The engineering students at the University of Vanhoover have already been contacted to see if they can fashion a prosthetic wing,” Dr. Amber stated as he stepped into the room. “I took the liberty to get that started.”

     Taneuma gave a bow to Dr. Amber, “Thank you, Doctor. I’m sure Jasper and her parents will be appreciative.”

     “OH!” exclaimed Dr. Osso. “You aren’t her parents! I probably shouldn’t have told you all that!”

     “We’re her aunt and uncle,” Anmitsu told the surgeon. “We have authorization to take care of Jasper if anything like this happens.”

     “That is very smart!” Osso commented, gesturing with his hoof. “You would be surprised how many ponies don’t think of doing that! It really can complicate thinmphfs.” Once again, Marigold silenced the unicorn’s rambling with her hoof.

     “You have to go check on your other patients now.” Marigold said to her husband. She pulled her hoof back and released the stallion.

     “I’ll be back in the morning to check on her.” Osso called as he trotted out of the room.

     “Thank you, doctor!” Taneuma called after the surgeon.

     “One of the best surgeons in Equestria,” said Dr. Amber. “But he rambles and will talk your ears off if given a sliver of a chance.”

     Marigold gave a chuckle, “But that’s what I love about him.”

     “Seems like a very nice pony,” Anmitsu said, “A caring soul.”

     “He is.”

     Dr Amber moved towards where Shadow was still sitting with Dart, her eyes still on the unconscious Jasper. “Let’s see how our patient is doing.” As the doctor approached, Shadow shifted causing Dart to wrap her front hooves around the mare and squeeze tighter with her wing.

     “It’s okay, Shadow,” Dart spoke softly to the purple unicorn, “It’s just Dr Amber, he needs to check you.” Shadow’s head turned slowly towards the doctor, causing him to stop moving forward.

     “Dart, I will need you to be my eyes again,” Amber said, taking a step back. “I’m not sure she’s back yet.”

     “Okay.”

     Dart picked up a small light from the table next to the bed and shined it in Shadow’s eyes. “Her pupils slowly respond, but she still doesn’t try to look away from the light.”

     “So, no change.” Amber marked some notes on a clipboard. “Has she said anything or done anything different?”

     “Nothing other than look up when Jasper was brought in,” Dart sighed, “Even when we brought everyone else in, she didn’t move or anything.”

     “Hmmm…” The doctor made more notes on his clipboard. “We are just going to have to wait.”

     “Why are ya’ll out here?” Asked a voice carried in from the hallway.

     “We got chased out.” Was the reply. “Family only.”

     “Ah, well, good job holdin’ up the walls. Keep at it.”

     “Yes, Sir!”

     A moment later Chief Vines stepped into the room. “How’s everypony?”

     “As good as can be expected I guess.” Taneuma stepped over to the police chief. “What brings you by?”

     “I need ta talk ta Shadow.” Vines said, looking at Shadow who was staring at the floor once again.

     “She’s hasn’t been saying anything really,” said Anmitsu as she sat down on the other side of Shadow, sliding a wing and hoof around the silent mare. “I want to know what they did to her!”

     “They hurt her…”

     Vines stared at Shadow for a moment and then stepped towards her. Shadow’s head rose up and she looked at police officer, her eyes still far away, her body starting to tense. “Officer Star,” he said, waiting for a reaction, when he didn’t get one, Vines continued. “I’ve been ta tha cave.” Shadow tensed even more, but she lowered her head. She lifted her front hooves and began to stare at them. “I know what happened.”

     “They hurt her…” Shadow started to violently tremble. “They hurt her…” The mare’s voice gaining in volume. Dart and Anmitsu embraced Shadow, as if they were trying to keep the mare from shaking herself apart. “They Hurt Her…”

     Vines put a hoof over Shadow’s and knelt in front of her. “They attacked ya.” Shadow raised her gaze to meet the chief’s. “They wanted ta take ya ta Kludgetown an’ sell ya both.” Anmitsu gasped. “They had mugged a bunch o’ ponies already. Ya remember the gang we were after? That was them.” He held Shadow’s hooves in his. “They got bold an’ were gonna try ta make some bits sellin’ ponies they caught.” He leaned closer to the mare. “They were monsters.”

     “They hurt her…”

     “Yeah, they did. They were monsters,” he gave Shadow’s hooves a squeeze. “Not. You.”

     “They hurt her…”

     Vines nodded. “Yes, they hurt her… and?” he asked.

     Shadow’s trembling lessened and her eyes focused on the chiefs, a fire sparking in them, “I ended them…” her voice low and carrying a steel edge to it.

     “Yes, ya did.” Vines responded, patting Shadow on the shoulder. “Ya ended a threat not only ta Vanhoover, but ta Equestria as a whole. They were monsters, horrible monsters.”

     Shadow looked around as if this is the first time she’s seen where she was. Tears began to stream down her cheeks once again.

     “Officer Star,” Vines called, standing back up. “The good doctor will give ya something ta help ya rest. Right?” He looked to Dr. Amber.

     “Of course!” The doctor pulled a vial from a nearby cabinet as Marigold set out a syringe.

     “Ya got a long road ahead o’ ya, but everypony here will be there ta help ya.”

     Shadow nodded and let the doctor put the shot in her IV. With tears in her eyes, Anmitsu cradled the purple unicorn as she quickly drifted into a peaceful slumber.

     “I’m glad you knew what was wrong.” Taneuma said to the police chief. “We were at a loss of what to do.”

     “I’ve seen it before, but,” Vines shook his head. “It’s never a good thing ta have ta deal with. No pony should have ta do that.”

     “How many?”

     “Five griffons, a pegasus, and a unicorn.”

     “She took them all?” Taneuma inquired, his eyes wide.

     “Yup, left only one still breathin’.” Vines pulled a fire carrot out and stuck it in his lips. He held the silver case out for the silver pegasus.

     “Thank you,” Taneuma pulled a fire carrot for himself. “So, you’ve already questioned the one that’s alive.”

     “Yup. He’s hospitalized on another floor.” The chief looked at Anmitsu, “an’ I’m not gonna tell ya where!”

     The pegasus mare gave the officer a slight glare but continued to hold her daughter. Dart laid down on the other side of the unicorn and placed a wing over her sister.

     “I’ll leave ya ta yer family.” Vines said, shaking Taneuma’s hoof. “I’ve got paperwork ta fill out.” He started to walk out the door but paused, “The DA’s already heard everything and isn’t gonna file charges. There’ll have ta be a formal inquiry, but I already know tha outcome.” He pulled a pocket watch out and looked at it. “I got ta go meet Cymbal. Goodnight.”

     “Goodnight, Chief.” Taneuma responded. “And thank you.”

     Vines waved, and strolled out of the room, leaving the family to rest and begin to heal its injured members.

[thefamilyineverknew]

Turning 47: pt. VI

“Carry On, My Wayward Son”

16-17 May 2018

Following the directions given by the Waze app, I twist through street lit asphalt noodles on the outskirts of Kansas City toward Bruce’s house. I have no real idea where I am, having surrendered my Rand McNally skills to Lord GPS, the Omniscient. It’ll do, though this willingness to give in to technology does have me concerned about the plight of human capability, knowledge, and will.

The idea of Kansas City used to set my imagination alight. Having grown up 3 1/2 hrs north in Des Moines, Iowa, Kansas City meant one thing: Worlds of Fun amusement park. And I was certain it was...worlds of fun. If only we could have stopped there once when traveling to see our relatives in southwestern Kansas. We never did. The closest we got was a drive-by; seeing the tracks of the Zambezi Zinger and Orient Express roller coasters rising up above the tree line behind the gates. Here it comes, here it comes, here it COMES...there it goes. So close!

I make it to Bruce’s place. He’s putting his kids to bed, but offers me a beer from a local KC brewery and tells me to sit down & relax. I’ve known Bruce since 2nd grade, but we were never all that close growing up, just in the same class. However, in the last 10 yrs we have been able to reconnect via FB, and I’m grateful for it. This stop will be the third time I get to see the man during my stint in the U.S.; twice in Chicago, and then this time.

Bruce Copeland casts a wide net for people, open to hearing an opposing idea, and generous and accepting that there is room to differ without getting bent out of shape. A welcomed relief in this day & age. He has a big heart, and grateful to those who stepped into his life to help get him on the right track. This Bruce is nothing like the one I knew in elementary school; undisciplined, rambunctious, and hilariously disruptive. No, this Bruce is a good sounding board, measured and wise.

He comes down from putting his kids to bed, and we shoot the bull. Talk about professoring and what that was like, the drive, where I’m headed next. And then I lay down the story of the Ancestry results and subsequent message I received from my birth mother. I had yet to contact Arla again, save for letting her know that I would be in contact after processing this huge information, which is what I had been doing, slowly, in waves. Bruce takes it in stride, and we just chill.

The next morning, I’m up early (for me) staring down the barrel of a 9 hr drive. Bruce makes some coffee and we chat about old times, a bit of “where are they now” and “remember when”. So good and all so improbable. I’m completely open to all of this improbability. It seems to be the soup in which I am swimming.

I hit the road west again, this time across the Sunflower State: Kansas.

Now, this drive is notoriously monotonous, droning on forever in a dull, never-ending string of utter nothingness; at least for most. This is not the case for me. I grew up taking this trip at least once a year, fighting for room with my 4 brothers in the back of our brown 1984 Dodge Caravan, sometimes with a dead animal strapped to the rooftop for my dad to taxidermy later (the inspiration for one of my band’s songs,”Skunk in a Box”). For me, the drive is actually dynamic; cruising past vast wheat fields, big white grain elevators, sprawling irrigation crawlers, paralleling the occasional, impossibly long freight train, and rolling through the sand hills where I used to imagine playing Cowboys & Indians (growing up being told that I was 25% Native American, I always fought for team Indian). So the drive, for me, is sheer nostalgic joy.

In making my way to Garden City, I decide to go through the town where I spent my formative years from 2-7; Hutchinson, Kansas. In my mind, and experience, Hutchinson is a place trapped in memories ending in 1978, when we moved to Des Moines. In those memories, it’s always sunny, warm, and golden, like a postcard or advertisement of the time. It’s always Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. It’s always Sesame Street. Always the Krofft Supershow. Always CHiPs. Always The Six Million Dollar Man.

What was our old address? I had it memorized in 1st grade, but now? Hmmm. I kinda recognize these streets, but...hmmm. Eventually I make my way to W. 25th Street and see our old house, remembering jumping up & down on that porch with excitement as a boy, seeing Grandma & Grandpa Rupp pulling up in their impossible road yacht, a 1971 Chrysler New Yorker. And there was my best friend Marci McCoy’s house, where we used to eat Zingers and watch cartoons. And there was the church, across the parking lot from our house, where my dad went through his ordination process to become a pastor. All there, but altered, slightly, by time.

This whole experience has felt like traveling through time; from teaching at my alma mater, seeing old friends, and revisiting people and places once locked in memory, and then, suddenly unlocked. Here it is, right in front of me; where I first learned to ride a bike, where I got my head stuck between some metal bars, where I dropped a bunch of bricks down a tube to hear them splash (inadvertently ruining a septic tank).

So I tooled through Hutch, and so much of it had not changed from my memory. I stopped at Dairy Queen and had a Blizzard, then into Dillons grocery store (exactly the same), and then into the public library. I just wanted to go in and see if it smelled the same as I had remembered. A woman at the check-out desk asked me if I was looking for something. I said, “Yeah...1978”. I mentioned that I moved away as a kid and just wanted to come in and see if it smelled the same. “Does it?”, she asked. “Exactly the same.”

After that, I went to the riverside park, and got back on my way to Garden. Again, I had taken liberties with my time and was running behind, but it was only another 3.5 hours to go...or so I thought.

After an hour and a half, I take a rest stop in Kinsley, KS, heralded as the historic halfway point on the railroad between New York and San Francisco. There’s a little park there with a giant locomotive. I was snapping off a few pics when suddenly I feel the air temp drop precipitously. I look back and see the sky is dark, gun metal gray. Uh oh. I get in the car and sit there, turn on the radio and hear the scratchy emergency weather report coming in; severe thunderstorms and possible tornadoes in Ford, Finney, and Gray counties. This is my direct route! Better get going.

The wind was raging, trying push my car off the road. I didn’t get but a few miles from Kinsley before I chose to pull over and wait it out. Driving on these rural two lane highways with semi-trucks passing at blistering speed is gamble enough in fair weather, but in these conditions? Nope, not worth it.

So, I parked my car on a side road, perpendicular to the storm and waited. It was awesome, like being in a terror spa. In Sweden, we don’t get this kind of dramatic weather and I had missed it thoroughly.

Eventually it let up enough for me to get back on the route. The rain, wind, and lightning were still relentless the entire way, but then there was also Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” and Tommy Tutone’s “867-5309” coming through on the radio, so there was a balance.

One last 10 minute leg to go, I rounded past Garden City proper, heading down South Star Highway toward my uncle John and aunt Cindy’s farm, where my parents were there to meet me. I knew what I would have to reveal when I saw them. How would they react? I really had no idea. This might go belly-up. Whenever the subject of “would you be interested in finding your family” would come up, and it very rarely ever would, I got a sense of eggshell walking. So, what would happen when they hear the words I am about to say?

Finally, I arrive, and my folks and uncle are there waiting in the doorway. Greetings and hugs (I hadn’t seen John since 2001). The farm is in the exact same place it’s been since before I could remember, and here it is, right in front of me.

We bring in my bags, and then I begin to divulge my tale...

[anavoliselenu]

Manwhore chapter 19

Worst of all, I can tell he’s enjoying talking to me. And teasing me. I pinch my eyes painfully shut, savoring it too, “Don’t hang up yet, just say something long and important. . . . Say your name! Your ridiculously long name . . .”

“Justin.” He indulges me. Then, slowly, “Kyle,” then “Preston,” then “Logan,” then “Justin.” Then, more intensely: “I miss you, Selena.”

I wipe away a stray tear and strain my throat to say something in reply. “Okay.”

“That’s all I get?” He laughs, incredulous.

“I love you,” I say. The emotion gets the best of me, and I repeat, “I love you, Justin,” and before he can answer, I hang up and cover my face.

Oh god. Oh god oh god, I just said it. And I have no idea what effect it had! OH GOD.

Shaking from the adrenaline, I put my phone on my nightstand and watch it for a few minutes.

What. Did. I. Just. Do?

I fall back in bed feeling a mix of excitement and dread and . . . disbelief. Well, I did say “I love you” to a man for the first time in my life. Just like that—wham!—over the phone. To Justin Justin.

How silly it must seem to him.

I must seem so . . . gah! Stupid!

Why could you not wait until you talked to him in person, Selena? Why?!

I wish I hadn’t missed his face, his expression. I mean, he must have been completely dumbstruck. Dazed. Was he surprised to hear it? Pleasantly so? Or not-so-pleasantly so? Well, did he laugh? Or frown? Puzzle? Fuck my laptop, what did I do?

I lie awake for a while in full-blown stress mode, in his shirt, my body aching for his, haunted by his eyes and by the last time we were together and every moment in between. Haunted by the dread of LOSING HIM before I can really be his girlfriend.

“Dibs . . .” I remember.

“I’m an only son. . . .”

“Are you coming up, or do you want me to carry you?”

I’m flooded with him.

Remembering the way I could almost swear he caught his breath when he saw me at the Ice Box.

The way he kissed the corner of my mouth first, always, leading into his bigger kiss.

The way he saved an elephant.

The way he saved me.

The way he fed me grapes.

The way he opened up to me.

Please come back to Chicago and let me explain, let me tell you why I don’t deserve you . . . and give me your advice. Give me your wise advice on what to do. Because I should’ve come to you before anyone else. I should’ve trusted that you would help me because that’s all I’ve seen from you—I’ve just never trusted a man before.

I hear my text beep and read:

Sin: I’m going to take that as a yes

28

TRUTH AND LOYALTY

“Wake up, Livingston.”

I tuck my face into my pillow while someone who sounds a lot like Gina keeps knocking on my door. I groan, “I’m going to kick your ass when I get out of this bed.”

“You’re going to be too busy.”

“Busy with what?”

“Selena, the door’s freaking locked.”

“So?”

“So open up.”

Hmm. Don’t think so. My life’s a mess. My life’s a mess and I need to fix it and I need to think of how to fix it. And the only pleasure I can derive anymore is in thinking and remembering, remembering talking on the phone only a few nights ago; I dreamed he said some things, and that I said some other things, then I remember that, yes, I think it’s true—I said I loved him.

Holy crap.

“Raaaa-chel,” Gina whines. Hard banging at the door. “Open up, Livingston. You need to see this!”

“I don’t want to see anything today. I’m seeing Justin when he gets back from New York and I want some beauty sleep, okay? It’s Saturday,” I grumble, but when she keeps banging, I leap off the bed and whip the door open, then rush back under my warm covers. “What is it?”

Wynn and Gina drop onto my bed.

Wynn is here too?

I’m aware of a strained silence while Wynn goes to open the curtains and comes back. Their stares . . . they look ominous.

A shadow of fear looms before me. “What?”

Their expressions alone set alarm bells ringing throughout my head. Leaping off the bed, I open my laptop and start scouring the Net, and all I can think is no, no no nooooooooo.

Within seconds, dozens of results with the words exposed and undercover and lies and betrayal pop up, tying Sin, my glorious Sin, to me.

“Selena, you’re all over the gossip sites,” Wynn says.

The results come at me with talons. One after the other.

“Go here.” Gina points at a website.

My hands have never shaken so hard on the track pad. I force the cursor to move and go to the site, and my stomach drops. I see Victoria’s byline and realize they went ahead and released her story in blog form before going to press.

I can’t see through my tears.

“That BITCH!” Gina yells.

As though someone else is speaking for me, numbly, in my own voice and with my own lips, I hear: “She’s doing what she has to. She wants to succeed, like me,” and as I speak, my tears keep gathering in my eyelids.

“She can suck my dick!” Gina yells.

I duck to read.

DECEIVED: Justin Justin’s New Girlfriend Really Undercover Press!

If you’ve been waiting for the dish on one of the most unexpected “relationships” to arise with one of our bachelors, prepare to have your mind blown even further when I let it all out of the bag. At least, Justin Justin’s girlfriend’s bag. . . .

I can’t continue. Each word is out there for Justin to read. Snarky, like the words of a real-life Gossip Girl amusing herself while my world is torn asunder.

My eyes well. “He’s read this by now, ohgod.”

“Selena, calm down. . . .”

“You don’t understand! Truth and loyalty are important to him! They’re so important to him . . . I can’t.” I cover my head in my hands as I start to hyperventilate. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Selena.” They try comforting me, both of them slinging their arms around my shoulders, but I’m beyond comfort.

My cell phone is buzzing madly. I suck in deep breaths, and when my phone falls still, the landline starts to ring. Gina lifts the kitchen phone in the air. “It’s Helen, Selena.”

When nothing happens, she waves the phone at me.

“Helen’s calling.”

“Don’t talk to her,” Wynn whispers.

Gina covers the speaker. “Hello? Wynn? She’s her BOSS.”

I know what she wants, what she will say. I grab the phone while my hand trembles and the rest of me starts to grow numb inside. I have disappointed everyone in my life. “You saw?” she asks.

I can’t answer.

Helen growls, “We’ll ride this if it kills us. Get to work.”

I’ve barely hung up the phone when Gina raises my cell phone before me, eyes wide and apologetic. “It’s your mother.”

With a moan of distress, I shoot Gina a “help me” look. What will I say to her? Well, let’s see. That I lost my heart and my senses with it. That I lost the man I loved before I had the courage to let myself truly have him. That I lost a story to my colleague. That I might, if I can’t find my balls soon, lose my job.

That I’ve lost all sense of direction. Of what’s right and what’s wrong. Of who I am and what I want—

“Heyyyy, adoptive mom!” Gina finally picks up on my behalf. “Yes! GINA! Oh . . . Selena? She’s super busy writing the article that will leave this other one in the dust. Oh, pfft! It’s just a blog article! Selena’s will be IN PRINT, and it’s much more important in that format. . . .” She starts to wax poetic to my mom while I go back to the computer and go to Justin’s social media.

I scan a few pictures.

There he is.

I see a picture of him getting out of his Rolls and into M4. A picture of him flipping off a reporter.

A set of slick aviators shield his eyes.

He looks sharp and on top of the world as he gets out of the car and, just like that, flips off the reporter. And a caption beneath the image reads: “When asked by a reporter, outside his offices, what he thought about his girlfriend being undercover press, this is what Justin Justin had to say.”

Justin is back in Chicago. He’s back from his business trip. To find this.

He’s being tagged. He’s being BOMBARDED.

@JustinJustin U deserve much mre and better than a cunt lke her!!

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

I run into my room and change as fast as possible into a pair of black slacks and a professional-looking white button-down blouse; then I quickly gather my hair into a ponytail and, despite Wynn and Gina’s reservations, take a cab to M4.

I cross the pristine lobby. If I’d thought it was difficult to walk up to the receptionists behind the oval desk the first time, it’s even more excruciatingly painful now.

I know that they know what’s going on; I can tell by their pointy stares.

My pulse is dangerously high. I can’t imagine what it will feel like when I see him.

“Selena Livingston for Mr. Justin, please.”

It strikes me, after several heartbeats, that none of them wants to answer me.

“We apologize,” the middle one with the tidy bun finally says. “But Mr. Justin just got into town.”

“Yes, I know.” I can’t believe how calm I sound, considering how twisted up my insides are. “I’ll wait.”

“Miss!” she calls as I walk toward the elevators. “No one is to be allowed to the top without authorization today.”

I stop mid-stride, puzzled. “Oh.” I hesitate, and notice that the elevator bank is, in fact, quite empty today. “I’ll wait here, then.” I try to stay calm as I walk back in their direction. Did Justin cancel all the meetings in his “packed” day? I feel increasingly anxious about it. “Just please tell him Selena Livingston would love to see him. It’s terribly important.”

“Like I said, he’s terribly busy.”

“I’ll wait,” I say, soft but firm.

I head to one of one of the lounges by the window. Huddled in my seat, I wait, feeling cold, remembering the absolute gossip storm taking place online. I shift uneasily from side to side, watching the elevators and the cars outside.

There are two or three people outside the building trying to keep their cameras hidden but occasionally taking snapshots of the building. So they want a piece of him too? Annoyance flares inside me. Annoyance, impotence, and loathing at myself for having caused this. The receptionist approaches moments later, and there’s an intimidating bodyguard with her.

Slowly, I rise to my feet.

“I’m sorry but we can’t have you here,” the receptionist says. “He’s busy, just arrived from out of town.” I see anger in her eyes. My attention flicks to the large man and . . . I just can’t believe there’s a bodyguard. I can’t believe he’s having them escort me out.

“Tell him I stopped by,” I murmur. Then I do them all a favor and take myself outside, using my hair as a curtain to avoid being recognized—glad that my hair can also hide the absolutely crestfallen look on my face. I head straight home, where Gina and Wynn appear to have been waiting by the door.

“How did it go?” Gina takes me by the shoulders and forces me down on the couch.

I’m still numb with disbelief. It takes me a moment to answer. “He’s walling himself up. I couldn’t see him. They . . . I was escorted out.”

“What?” Wynn cries, outraged.

And Gina: “Didn’t you tell me his staff is loyal to a fault? Of course they’d be overprotective of their Justin.”

“But did he know Selena was there?” Wynn wants to know.

They start arguing about whether or not Justin instructed them to kick me out, but I can’t join the speculation. I’m feeling more and more hopeless as I look at my phone. My silent phone.

Locking myself in my bedroom, I call his cell phone and pace around as I leave a message:

“Heyyyyy. Hey . . . will you please call me back? I need to talk to you.” I flounder with what to say next, my thoughts stumbling one after the other.

“Justin . . .” I trail off, but my voice breaks so fiercely, I hang up. I wipe my tears away and dial again. “Sorry,” I whisper. I have never wanted to hear his voice so much. “I want to say that . . . I don’t know. . . . I just wanted to hear your voice.” I think of what else to say when I reach his voice mail.

I dial again. “You value truth and loyalty, and I . . . I need to talk to you, Justin, you need to let me explain. If that’s all you do, please let me explain.”

It’s killing me. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. I have a constriction in my chest and I literally can’t breathe. This time it’s not in a good way. I keep waiting to hear from him, keep expecting him to message me back.

I storm into Gina’s bedroom. “Do you think it’s over?”

She jolts up in bed. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought we had an intruder!”

“Do you think it’s over? Not talking and this shit happening, it means it’s over. Right? Who am I kidding? I wasn’t even his real girlfriend. Not even for a day. There’s nothing to be over.” I laugh sadly and struggle with my tears, and with my conscience, and my desperate need for him.

“I feel bad for you, but Justin’s a powerful man. When Paul betrayed me, I couldn’t look at him, not even a single possession of his. He broke me. And this is . . . this is public, Selena. How would you feel? If he came with something like this, throwing you for a loop? Give him time to assimilate what’s being said. Maybe he just wants to rationalize.”

Maybe he just needs to count to four, I think to myself.

“I have a temper. . . .”

One instant I’m trying to feel positive by telling myself that I will have a moment to explain, eventually, and the next I’m heavy with grief. The next, I’m one big, gigantic knot of regrets. Remembering those few, rare moments when he completely opened up to me makes me even more anxious to be with him right now, to explain. To make it okay. To hold him. To BEG him to hold ME. “Selena, what are you going to do with your article?” Gina asks worriedly.

In my hand, on my phone screen, for the thousandth time, I look at that picture of him arriving at M4 after a business trip. Looking like a true, first-class billionaire . . . but flipping off whoever was snapping that picture. All of that glass and technology in the background, and him, in that killer suit, his dark head bent, his eyes shielded behind his aviators. No comment, the caption says. But the finger said plenty.

29

RESEARCH

A short while later I slip into my bedroom and stand, in my socks and his shirt, and stare at my laptop.

Inhaling, I bring it, along with my shoebox filled with note cards, to the little rug beside my bed. I sit Indian style on the floor and read my notes, one by one. Notes on him.

Truth and loyalty, I had written.

Traits he probably admires in his best friends. Traits he may never have found in the women who are after him. Truth and loyalty . . .

That’s all I can write about. The rest of what I’ve learned is too raw for me to share.

But truth and loyalty.

Things Justin values above love.

Things he wouldn’t find in me. I read the back of the card, my scribbled note, this one talking about me.

I SUCK SOOOO HARD.

He’d stood there talking about truth and loyalty while I sat there moved by everything we talked about, absolutely knowing that I was falling in love, helpless to stop it.

And still, I was taking notes. Studying him like a lab rat. As if he wasn’t human. As if he weren’t driven by the same things everyone else is: a heart, a mind, a body, hormones; as if he didn’t need air and water and maybe even love; as if he were this robot to be scrutinized and picked apart for the amusement of the world.

Really? What does it matter that he’s been with a thousand and one women? What does it matter that he’s the city’s obsession and now also mine? He’s human. He’s entitled to the little privacy he has. He’s so damn closed off, he rarely opens up to anyone, and I know it’s because he’s always so judged and scrutinized.

My eyes water, and suddenly I grab the cards and start tearing them up, one by one. Then I lie with all the notes scattered around me and cry a little. Then I look at the scattered mess. What did I just do? Oh god.

If I want to save the magazine, I need to deliver something.

I breathe in and out.

“Selena?” I hear Gina call.

She peers inside and scans the mess of torn note cards, and then me. As broken as the paper around me.

“Oh, Selena.”

I start crying.

“I need to write it.”

“Selena, tell him the truth. Tell him the truth. If he knows you well at all, he’ll understand.”

“What? That I’m a liar?”

“Tell him you love him,” she says.

“He doesn’t want my love. He values . . . truth and honesty, qualities I don’t possess.”

“You possess them in spades. You’re loyal and honest with everyone.”

“But not with him.”

“From the moment you talk to him and come clean, you will be. Make him see it from your eyes. Maybe you can have it all.”

“Whoever gets it all, Gina? Nobody. Nobody, that’s who.”

“But yet we all believe that we can. Isn’t that the point of everything we do? We want it all. So write this piece. And if you still want him, then you should go get him.”

I pause. “I do want him,” I whisper, wiping my wet face with the back of my hand. “It’s a million tiny things that, added up, tell me there is no one in this world, ever, who will have this spectacular effect on me but him. Sometimes I just can’t see myself when we’re together, I’m so lost in him.” I wipe my eyes. “He’s the only man I dream about at night, and the only man I want to wake up next to in the morning. Everyone is after his fame or his money, but I love him not because of anything he has but because he has me. . . .”

“Oh, Rache. Don’t cry. Maybe there’s hope for you two.”

“How can there be? He doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“He’s fucking hurting, Selena! Even I can tell, because there’s not one picture of him without fucking shades to cover his eyes. There must be hell in those eyes, Selena. I can’t believe I actually feel bad for him now.”

“Because I was the Paul in our relationship. I was the liar.”

“Paul played me. You never played him. Your feelings were real.”

I groan and bury my face in my hands. I remember how Helen warned me from the beginning. That I was too young, playing with adults. I hadn’t seen all of this coming. She was right. I was not ready for this at all.

But I take the Kleenex Gina passes, wipe my tears, connect my laptop, boot it up, and write my heart out.

The day I turn it in, Helen tells me that the Edge email servers are bursting with hate mail for me, and she advises me to take the week to work from home.

The day it’s published, I don’t get out of bed. I don’t answer my phone. My mother stops by, but she ends up chatting with Gina because I don’t want her to see me like this; I’m too sad to fake it today, and she knows me so well. She tells me before she leaves, “I’m going to go paint.”

She’s telling me I should do the same. She’s telling me I’m free to go out there and do something I love.

But what I love hates me.

Twitter:

Did you read your girlfriend’s article? @JustinJustin

On his Instagram:

No way @JustinJustin would give that bitch a second chance!!

And the feminist groups online:

Selena Livingston, our hero! Revenge on the playboys! Want to play with our hearts? Beware the time you will find your own weakness. Revenge is sweet!

Later that week I find enough energy to get out of bed and go to work, and I’m immediately called into Helen’s office.

There’s tension between us. Helen was not happy when I sent over the article. She said, “It’s not what I asked for.”

“No,” I concurred.

Helen took it and printed it anyway.

Today, I’m surprised that she seems pleased to see me, genuinely pleased. “It’s a circus out there,” Helen tells me, waving me forward from behind her cluttered desk.

“I’m not online. Can you blame me?”

“No. But let me fill you in.” She signs to a chair across from her desk, but I remain standing. “Your boyfriend,” she begins with obvious glee, “pulled Vicky’s piece. It can’t be reposted without legal repercussions now.” She eyes me with a new gleam of respect and admiration, and adds, “In case you lost me when I said ‘your boyfriend’ ”—she laughs happily—“Justin Justin canned any print editions of Victoria’s post—and it was removed from the blog.” She nods ever so slowly and somberly.

My eyes widen. “What?” I finally speak.

“Victoria’s article. Your boyfriend owns the rights. It can’t be published anymore—not without his say-so.”

“What? How?”

She shrugs, then leans back in her chair with a little creak of the wheels. “Seems like Justin doesn’t want it out there.”

Ohmigod, he made Victoria’s story go away? “If he canned Victoria’s, why not ours? Why didn’t he can mine?” Why didn’t he read mine?!

My heart is in a fist in my chest and so are my lungs.

“Guess he doesn’t hate you that much.” She shrugs casually, but stops herself when she seems to notice—finally notice—that I’m crushed. That my hair is a mess, my face is a mess, I’m a mess. “Maybe he does like you, Selena,” she says softly. “I’m impressed, did you know? I’m not the only one who’s impressed. The world is impressed too. He hasn’t been seen . . . consorting with you-know-what types.” She taps a pencil absently on her desk, her eyes narrowed on me. “But he’s been skydiving daily. You’d think he has a death wish or has some serious mojo to get out of his system.”

I hardly hear her. I need to get away. From Edge, from her, from this office. “Is it all right if I work from home today, Helen?”

Though I sense her reluctance, she agrees. I go get my things from my desk, aching to my bones.

Justin skydiving.

Justin buying Victoria’s article.

Justin thinking I betrayed him.

Outside that afternoon, I stop when Edge stares back at me from a newsstand, one copy remaining on this side, a few on the other.

“You read that yet?” The man behind the newsstand whistles and laughs. “That reporter’s got her panties in a twist over the guy.”

I lift my head, prepared to scream at the man. Instead, I scan the picture of Justin that Helen used on the cover—those icy green eyes staring back at me. And yes, this man is right. I do have my panties in a twist over Justin. Not just my panties—my entire body. My entire life.

I miss him like nobody’s business.

I want to kiss him.

I want to squeeze him. With my arms. And my thighs. With my whole body until I BREAK or he breaks me, and that’s just fine, as long as he comes after me.

“Smart woman,” I finally whisper, emotion thickening my voice. “I think I’ll take him home with me.”

I buy the copy just because of Justin’s picture. Sharp tie, perfect collar, and that thick-lashed gaze, screaming to be warmed, that gets me. It’s a marvel how those eyes of green ice can so easily melt me.

I sit down on a bench with the magazine on my lap, brushing my fingertips over his eyes, wondering for the thousandth time if he will ever read what I wrote to him.

30

AFTER THE STORM

It’s over.

There wasn’t rain or thunder when we ended. We just ended like we began. There were no flashes of illumination that told me I would fall in love, that I would meet the one man who would challenge me, drive me crazy. Now it’s ended, my project done. Completed.

My mornings have returned to normal. I still have brunch with my friends on the weekends. I still visit Mom on Sundays. My world is back to ordinary, almost the same as it was before I wrote the exposé. I hadn’t realized how bleak it was. I’m afraid I will pick up the paper and there he will be . . . with someone. Or with three.

The crying spells are bad. You go out and accidentally smell wine and oops, snivel. And don’t talk to me about elephants, that takes me to a whole new level of despair. But the fear is gone. You were afraid of going out and suddenly you’re right there, daring the universe to take that from you or pleading with it to give you an excuse to feel like shit today. Gina passes me the Kleenex.

Some of my coworkers . . . some of them envy me.

“I wish I’d been asked to go after Justin Justin,” Sandy, my coworker, tells me because of the positions I’m being offered, but most importantly because “being paraded around in a yacht and being pursued like that . . .” she says dreamily.

“Fess up, was the sex phenomenal?” Valentine asks.

I think they’re trying to cheer me up . . . but I’m uncheerable.

I still stalk his Twitter feed. I can’t help stalking him, wanting to know how he is. Though the social media around him has been more active than ever, Justin himself has been . . . quiet.

He’s been asked about me—by reporters on live TV, and online. He says “no comment” or ignores the online jabs. Just like he’s ignoring me.

“It wasn’t going to last,” Gina assures me when she notices I’m mopey. “It was a hookup. He’s a womanizer to the next level.”

But it kills me that I’ll never know. I’ll never know if all the times he said I was his girl, he meant to keep me.

I have all these unsent emails addressed to Justin, and very little courage to do anything with them when I know that I don’t deserve for him to give me the time of day.

To: Justin Justin (Drafts)

Status: unsent

I have a thousand and one emails just like this that I won’t send either. I just needed to write to you.

Please forgive me

Do you think about me at all?

Dibs on your mouth and dibs on your eyes and dibs on your hands and dibs on your heart. Even your stubbornness cause I deserve it. Even your anger. I want it all. Dibs on my man. See #Iamsogreedytoo !!!!

Gina tells me that if she could survive heartbreak, I can survive breaking my own heart.

“Baby, I know it hurts. When I found out about Paul, I wanted a meteor to fall on my head so I could go numb inside a coffin.”

“God, Gina, I know. I just want a chance.”

I stare out the window this morning at the street. No more shiny Rolls-Royce waiting outside on Saturday mornings to take me “anywhere.”

Is it funny, though? That I keep waiting to see it? That I wake up with hope every day? For a text, a message, a call, the car, a glimmer of a chance?

Stop being so hopeful, Selena . . . he would have read it by now.

Maybe he did and he just doesn’t care to let you know what he thought of it.

I found out so many things about him during all the time we spent together, but I didn’t really find out if he could come to love me. If he’ll be too proud to ever forgive me. If he’ll seek to ease the pain of my betrayal with other women, or if he’ll shut himself off, like I’m doing. I found out dozens of things about him, but not the dozen ones that could give me any kind of comfort right now.

We saved an elephant together, he took up my fight for a safer city, but all I physically have to remind me of my time with him is his shirt.

His shirt, which sits like a priceless trophy folded away in plastic, inside a box, in the deepest part of my closet, because I can hardly bear to see it now. I can’t bear to wear it now. But sometimes when the melancholy hits, I go into my closet and pull it out, stark white and large, completely male against my frilly items, and still with his scent clinging to its collar. Self-pity washes over me on those days, and it takes one second, two, three, and then I think of him, and so I take four. Four seconds before I let myself breathe again.

EXPOSING JUSTIN JUSTIN

By R. Livingston

I’m going to tell you a story. A story that managed to pull me apart completely. A story that brought me back to life. A story that has made me cry, laugh, scream, smile, and then cry again. A story I keep telling to myself over and over and over until I have memorized every smile, every word, every thought. A story that I hope to keep with me forever.

The story begins with this very article. It was a regular morning at Edge. A morning that would bring me a big opportunity: to write an exposé on Justin Kyle Preston Logan Justin. He’s a man who needs no introduction. Billionaire playboy, beloved womanizer, a source of many speculations. This article would open doors for me, gain a young hungry reporter a voice.

I dove in, managing to get an interview with Justin Justin to discuss Interface (his incredible new Facebook-killer) and its immediate rise to popularity. As obsessed as the city has been with his persona for years, I considered myself lucky to be in this position.

I was so focused on revealing Justin Justin that I let my guard down, unaware that every time he opened up, he was actually revealing me to me. Things I had never wanted were suddenly all I wanted. I was determined to find out more about this man. This mystery. Why was he so closed off? Why was nothing ever enough for him? I soon discovered he was not a man of many words, but rather a man of the right words. A man of action. I told myself that every inch of information I hunted was for this article, but the knowledge I craved was actually about myself.

I wanted to know everything. I wanted to breathe him. Live him.

But most unexpectedly of all, Justin began to pursue me. Genuinely. Wholeheartedly. And relentlessly. I could not believe that he would be truly interested in me. I had never been pursued like this, intrigued like this. I had never felt so connected to something—someone.

I never expected my story to change, but it did. Stories tend to do that; you go out searching for something and come back with something different. I wasn’t looking to fall in love, I wasn’t looking to lose my mind and common sense over the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen, I wasn’t looking to drive myself crazy with lust. But I ended up finding a little piece of my soul, a little piece that isn’t really that small at all: it’s over six feet tall, with shoulders about a yard wide, hands more than twice the size of mine, green eyes, dark hair, and it is smart, ambitious, kind, generous, powerful, sexy, and has consumed me completely.

I regret lying, both to myself and to him; I regret not having the experience to recognize what I was feeling the moment I felt it. I regret not savoring each second I had with him more, because I value those seconds more than anything.

However, I don’t regret this story. His story. My story. Our story.

I’d do it all again for another moment with him. I’d do it all again with him. I’d leap blindly into the air if only there were even a 0.01 percent chance that he’d still be there, waiting to catch me.

31

FOUR

Saturday.

The fourth one since.

There are still dozens of messages in my drafts folder that I won’t ever send to him.

I’ve still, more than ever, been living in the land of “what could’ve been” and trust me, this is a very sad place to live in. In the zip code of the lost, you breathe in regret with every breath, sadness permeating every space in which your body stands.

Of all the things that drive people to change, it is despair and sorrow that cause it most of all.

Sadness is so disempowering. Anger, on the other hand, demands action and empowerment. But I can’t get angry when it was me who put myself right where I’m standing.

I’ve spent weekends at the window of my apartment, trying to make myself want to go outside and not really feeling like it.

Never let anyone tell you that your life will return to normal after a hurricane.

I’ve got folders and folders with pics I can’t open.

A number I can’t dial.

A shirt I can’t wear.

A name I can’t say out loud.

The memory of a pair of eyes that will haunt me forever.

I live in fear of never seeing those eyes again. And in even more fear of what I’ll see in them if I do . . .

Helen had complained it was not what she had wanted.

She’d said it was “a love letter to Justin.”

But we all know stories are like that. Stories change. Just like people change. We change when we suffer, when we take, when we give, when we love. When you lose the object of your love, your normal will be perennially changed; there’s no returning to the old anymore. You have to rebuild stronger walls, change your expectations, and wait for the sunlight.

There’s nothing like a sunrise in Chicago, the orange-gold light shimmering over the buildings’ mirrored windows. I’ve watched the sunrises and the sunsets and I’ve watched it rain from this very window. I’ve watched Gina go out, and I’ve watched the cars drive by, not really focused on what colors they are, only that none of those cars belong to him.

My laptop hums nearby. Gina went out to lunch with Wynn, but I still can’t seem to work up the enthusiasm.

I’m trying to work on a new story. A story with good stuff. Stuff about people. Loss. And hope. And . . . forgiveness. I’m pouring tea for myself when my phone vibrates. The number is unlisted.

I stop and set my cup aside, then answer.

“Miss Livingston, this is Catherine Ulysses.”

I pause.

Justin’s assistant.

“Are you there?”

My heart. My heart is going to literally leap out of my chest.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“He’d like to see you in his office.”

I close my eyes.

“Should I tell him you declined?”

“NO! I . . . at what time? I’ll be there.” My fingers tremble as I write down the time and start nervously scribbling when I hang up.

The world tilts a little when I force myself to lower the pen. I stare at the hour. The date. The question mark. The heart. And the name Justin, I wrote, with all of that.

I’m finally going to see him. I have no idea what I’m going to say, where I will begin, what can even make this okay.

I picture myself kissing him, having the courage to say I love him.

I picture myself getting teary maybe, too, because this has been the worst month of my entire existence.

I picture him in all his glory, and my chest can’t take it without gnarling up like a live rope.

His office.

M4.

Justin.

I brush my teeth, take a shower, then hurry to my closet and swing open the doors, staring at my clothes, hoping something—the right outfit—stands out and yells, WEAR ME, HE CANNOT SAY NO TO THIS. Instead I see a lot of sleeves and nothing, nothing, fit for this moment. Hidden in this closet is his shirt. How I loved sleeping in this shirt. It engulfed me like his arms did, and I had the best dreams, sometimes even erotic ones, even after I was back from his arms, recently sated. I pull it out and look at it, missing it with an ache, then impulsively hide it in the long-dress section again.

I go for something white, a white turtleneck sweater, a pair of light-colored jeans, my lambskin boots.

I feel exposed, all my walls tumbled down. But I go brush my hair, add a light peach lipstick, and look at myself, my gray eyes staring back at me, as vulnerable as I’ve ever seen them.

Because I’ll tell him the truth—the entire truth.

And I’ll deserve whatever he comes back with; I’ll deserve it, every bit.

At M4, I take the elevator, trembling.

Our every complex human emotion, bottled up inside our bodies, our minds and souls and hearts.

Every member of every ethnicity, every human in the past and the present and every one in the future wants to feel like this. The way I feel right now, just a girl hoping and craving, dying to see him, praying the guy she loves loves her back.

My throat is so tight I can’t talk when I step out. His four assistants lift their heads from their computer screens. “I’m . . . here to see—”

“One moment,” Catherine tells me.

I’m standing here wondering if he’ll smell like I remember, look at me like I remember. If he’ll smile or frown, if he’ll hate me forever, if he thinks of me at all. If he misses me at all.

It doesn’t matter so long as he sees me right now. That’s all I want, to look into his face again. Hear his voice.

Finally Catherine hangs up and nods at me as she walks to the door and pushes it open for me, and I walk inside.

[auburnfamilynews]

The Tigers had some sensational throwers on hand, including Sean White during warmups!

(All photos by Acid Reign)

     War Eagle, everybody! It’s time now for the Acid Reign Report on Auburn’s 2017 A-Day game. I’ve been to a number of these spring shindigs over the years, and I really think this last one was the best I’ve seen! There was much to like, and some of the things in recent years that I did not like disappeared. Reports that Auburn would throw the ball more and better are definitely true! I also loved a starting Auburn defense that limited the second unit to just 3 yards per play in the first half.

     This year, I think I had the best seat in the house. I lined up before the stadium opened in an express line and was one of the first dozen or so let in at 11:00 AM. I made a bee line for the 50-yard line and got a seat right over the tunnel. This meant no spectators in front of me and a railing to rest my camera on. I hope readers enjoy the shots I got!

     One of the main complaints one hears about A-Day is vanilla schemes. While there wasn’t a ton of razzle dazzle, the offense didn’t shy away from running combination routes and slinging the ball around. The defenses did some blitzing, particularly in the second half. Coach Kevin Steele really sent the house after the young quarterbacks at times, and it was fun to see how they reacted. While most folks are raving about all of the deep throws, I saw a well-executed short- to medium-range game plan as well.

Stidham finds Hastings underneath. Opposing defenses are going to get sick of seeing this!

     I was also extremely pleased with the short-yardage game. Auburn has blown a lot of games in recent years by not picking up the first down and settling for the field goal. At A-Day this year, things changed. On 3rd and 1 or 2, in came both Jalen Harris and Chandler Cox. They lined up together next to right tackle Braden Smith, and the handoff was unstoppable, even with little running backs like C. J. Tolbert and Kam Martin toting the rock. I was very much reminded of the late 2013 triumvirate of Robinson, Prosch and Tre Mason.

     I complained bitterly last season about Auburn’s route drills and how the receivers had to stop for the quarterback to target them. Those drills were gone, this year. There was a real emphasis on hitting guys in stride during warmups. We saw some great 7-on-7 drills where everyone was running full-out on their routes. I liked very much that the defensive backs were out there at the same time, and everyone was competing. I don’t think a skeleton drill has nearly as much benefit.

     Auburn is going to be nasty in the front seven, once again. And, they will likely be deeper than last season. The second unit even had success at times limiting the starting offense on the ground. The second offense got nothing done on the ground against the top unit. Both defenses surrendered passing yardage, and frankly the second unit was porous. Every quarterback that played was mobile in the pocket and able to avoid rushers. I don’t think Auburn has ever had 4 guys at quarterback that can run!

     I do worry about the second unit secondary. A top defensive priority in the coming months has to be to develop some depth. Much ado was made about a lack of safety depth in pregame stories, but cornerback play was the real problem on A-Day. Nate Craig-Myers and Darius Slayton got behind them, repeatedly. It was left for safeties Nick Ruffin and Michael Sherwood to clean up loose receivers, usually well after the damage was done.

     I was worried during warmups when the only punter I saw working was Daniel Carlson. Was Ian Shannon hurt, or in the doghouse? It turned out that Shannon was attending a family funeral. Our condolences to him and his family. I was looking forward to seeing Shannon punt. He has looked good in the past couple of A-Day warmups.

     I got a big kick out of the new field goal net in the north end zone. I’m really not sure why it was installed. Are visiting fans stealing footballs? Or is it a liability issue if some fan gets clobbered? I watched Daniel Carlson practice kicking field goals, and nearly every one of his attempts went over the net. It wasn’t till Carlson made a field goal from 45 yards that the ball hit the net. What a waste of money! The net is also, quite frankly, an eyesore.

Unit observations after the jump!

     As mentioned above, the starting defensive line is going to be nasty. Dontavius Russell and Derrick Brown started at tackle spots, and folks, that’s about 650 pounds worth of mean muscle for interior lines to have to deal with. Then, you’ve got Marlon Davidson as the strongside end, and he was able to flat out dominate any tackle he went up against. Buck end is still a work in progress, I think with Jeffery Holland and Paul James, III we’ll be solid there. Holland played only limited minutes, and James got a chance to make some plays. There is quality depth all the way across this unit, as well.

Malik Willis has only taken a 3-step drop, and the pocket has already collapsed!

     Quality linebacker play went more than two deep, especially against the run. Handling short passes wasn’t as good, particularly the play of the backups. Deshaun Davis has the look of an All-SEC player now. Tré Williams was a force out there as well, and he nearly came up with an interception. The starting unit really did a good job on the edge, stringing runners out for nothing on sweeps.

     I thought the starting secondary played pretty well. They were only allowed a couple of base coverages, and the White team had the route concepts to test them, so some catches were made on them. However, the guys still did a good job of turning catches into incomplete balls by jarring the ball loose. There was one play when Carlton Davis and Tray Matthews collided with one of Auburn’s young receivers, and I was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to get back up! Jeremiah Dinson played well at the nickel spot, too. He appeared to injure a hand in the first half, and I was worried that his long return to action was going to be over too quickly. Dinson shook it off and got back in the game.

     Daniel Carlson was the story of the day on special teams. I think he missed all of one kick in warmups. He hit an upright during the game on one attempt, but it bounced through for the points. It was amazing watching him hit that 60-yard pressure kick at the end with the whole team surrounding him and yelling.

Mr. Automatic. What an amazing weapon!

     There was some mixing and matching at times on the offensive line, but basically the starting lineup featured Austin Golson at center, Mike Horton and Kaleb Kim at guards, and Braden Smith and Darius James at tackles. About the only thing to complain about regarding the starters was a holding call on Mike Horton. Braden Smith is going to be a nightmare for SEC defensive ends. The backups are still a work in progress. They had their difficulties going up against a good defensive line.

     As mentioned above, I liked what our starting H-back and tight end did. Jalen Harris looks the part of an SEC tight end and had several passes thrown to him. We also saw a lot of newcomer, Sal Cannella, but not much with him in tight. Auburn lined him up wide and mostly used him as a blocker for quick screens. Cannella did a nice job with that and also caught a contested slant pass for a 15-yard gain. I guess the backup I saw in this spot with the most playing time was Robert Muschamp.

Sal Cannella (80) can lock ’em up!

     I saw a few drops during warmups by the receivers and a couple of bobbles during the game. As much as Auburn threw the ball this game, that’s going to happen. There were some great catches, too. Nate Craig Myers had the best one, late in the game down the southeast sideline. He was well covered, but shielded the DB off and snatched the ball in at a bad angle. Having Craig-Myers and Darius Slayton to either side creates a problem for secondaries. They either have to be given a cushion, or safeties have to be committed to help out. I really enjoyed the TD catch by Marquis McClain. He caught a medium-range pass over the middle, shook off a would-be tackler, and was off to the races. It was really a nice display of running ability and using his blockers. I liked the use of Will Hastings as a thorn in the linebackers’ sides, too. I did not like the fumble, though.

     Color me disappointed not to see Kamryn Pettway nor much of Kerryon Johnson, who went out with a twisted ankle. I liked the play of the backup runners, if not the one fumble by Kam Martin. Auburn seemed to be able to get these guys open on flare routes at will. I liked the running of C. J. Tolbert. He’s got a burst and a knack for picking out the tough yards. We didn’t see as much of Malik Miller, but he was a wrecking ball when he was given carries. It’s nice to see him back in action!

     To say I was pleased by the quarterback play is an understatement. Jarrett Stidham had a great day. For the most part, he hit receivers in stride and threw masterfully into some tight windows. He’s also quite mobile. I’ve seen some commentators whining about the missed fade route to a wide-open Jason Smith. My take was that it’s a timing route, and Smith was jammed pretty hard at the line. Smith broke free, but the QB has to release the ball on that play before he knows for sure. A fade route is a gamble. It is thrown up, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

     It has been proven pretty convincingly the past two seasons, that this offense can go into the toilet pretty quickly if the starting quarterback doesn’t pan out or gets hurt. I think Auburn has at least 3 viable options this season, which is a huge relief to me. Freshman Malik Willis looked great at times but stuffed a couple of balls into ill-advised spots. I really enjoyed seeing scout team quarterback Devin Adams get a long touchdown pass! I didn’t see enough of Woody Barrett to judge. He hit a couple of crisp passes, then took a bad sack, and didn’t get back in the game. I enjoyed watching Sean White throw during warmups. He can still find the open man and get it there accurately.

     It was a fine A-Day all the way around. My only regret is that I didn’t bring either my hat or the right sunblock. I had a bottle of Bullfrog Mosquito Coast and reapplied it several times during the game. It wasn’t enough at 30 SPF to combat a cloudless Jordan-Hare sun! I’m a little cooked today!

     We saw some different entertainment, this year. A girls’ flag football championship was played very early, and that was a lot of fun to watch! No pads, no helmets, and there was some brutal blocking going on at the line of scrimmage. Those girls are TOUGH! Congrats to the winning team, “Try ‘n’ Beat Us.” There was a cornhole bout. Then at halftime, we got to see a baby race. The most entertaining thing was the presentation on Auburn’s All Americans. Those are some awesome Auburn guys! The loudest applause went to Chris Davis! The kick-six lives on!

The post An Electric A-Day! appeared first on Track 'Em Tigers, Auburn's oldest and most read independent blog.

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[zolisamarawu-blog]

How to take free public higher education from pipe dream to reality

Universities are any nation’s key public institutions of knowledge development. They drive research, teach students and supervise postgraduates. By producing and disseminating knowledge, universities can fulfil their mandate as institutions of social, economic, cultural and intellectual development for democratic societies and the global environment.

It’s not easy to reconcile the costs of education with narrow economic goals alone. The remit of education is simultaneously individual, social and global. It has qualitative attributes that can’t be measured in conventional ways. Higher education is a public good. Providing free education to all citizens has inestimable value and limitless possibilities.

This is especially true in South Africa today. The country is in transition from a traumatic past. Its universities must respond to the many and profound challenges faced by the state and society. The challenges faced by universities are fundamental to the reconstruction of post-apartheid society. This is why universities should be funded as comprehensively as possible, allowing them to discharge their important socioeconomic, political and cultural mandates to the best of their capabilities.

Free public higher education for all is possible and necessary. In this article, based on a submission made to the recent Commission of Inquiry into Higher Education and Training, or “Fees Commission”, we will explain how to make it a reality.

Research for a deeper understanding

The starting point for any change is dedicated research. This must examine the costs of quality public education and must create space to open up the fiscal debate. Once this is done, ordinary South Africans can begin to understand what democratic choices could be made to inform fiscal and other policy decisions about the provision of education and potential funding sources.

Very importantly, research must be conducted that examines how institutional funding choices are made.

Student funding in South Africa depends on a variety of sources. These include parents’ contributions, bank loans, and the goodwill of business and charitable institutions; the contributions of universities who are themselves underfunded; as well as other bursaries and scholarships from the public and private sector.

All of these sources are unsustainable. None carry any legal obligation to fund students in the first place. This is even true in the case of parents, many of whom are likely to depend on bank loans for such funding.

The government must increase funding by at least an aggregate amount equal to the ratio achieved in Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) countries. In 2011, South Africa’s state budget for universities as a percentage of gross domestic product was 0.75%, which is more or less in line with Africa as a whole (0.78%). But it lags behind when compared with OECD countries (1.21%) and the rest of the world (0.84%).

No student who meets the requirements for admission to a university course should be excluded for financial reasons. Students should be funded for the “full cost of study”. This includes registration and other fees, accommodation, costs of meals, travel and books. Universities should also receive a subsidy per student from public funds that is sufficient for its recurrent operations.

Such a subsidy is crucial to ensure what has been called both “financial and epistemic access to university education”. In other words it’s not just about getting students into university, it’s about tackling the push-out rate – those who are unable to finish their studies – and actively retaining those students who’ve traditionally borne a higher burden.

A determined state should examine the structure of personal taxation that could be levied for the top 10% of income earners in the country and for high-net-worth individuals – people who earn an annual income of more than R7 million (about US$474,000 at current rates) or have assets of more than R70 million. This could generate a substantial increase in available public revenue to fund higher education.

This approach concentrates on the structural aspects of inequality. It puts tax revenues to good use. Some have mooted the idea of a differentiated approach to the “rich” and the “poor”. In this model, a basic means test is applied to all students. But many South African students fall into the “missing middle” – their parents don’t earn enough to pay fees, but they earn too much to qualify for state funding.

Our proposal supports the idea that those who earn the most pay for their children’s education through taxation and the distribution of public funds – rather than through an individually based “wealthy user pays” model. Ours is a more democratic model of public interest and public funding than individual philanthropy or subsidy – which, we argue, is not sustainable.

Students have responsibilities, too

But, in our model, students will not simply take their fully funded qualifications and run. All students will be regarded as beneficiaries of public funding. They will be viewed as participants in a system that prioritises the public good. As such, they’ll be expected to contribute to society when leaving university – through community service and by working in public institutions after graduation.

This approach will support the creation of socially cohesive attitudes among students. It is, we believe, necessary for genuine, far-reaching structural and systemic change.

For our suggestions to work, students should be widely consulted before any final decision is made. It is they, after all, who have led the charge for “fee-free” education. Such consultation should be meaningful, open and frank. Choices can’t be left entirely to “experts”, “advisors”, “consultants” and the agents of institutions that represent a narrow, fiscal-driven approach to the provision of public goods like higher education.

Equality is the goal

Of course, making education free will not magically make all individuals equal. But the spirit of the sort of policy we’re proposing must actively aim to end the culture of individualism, corporatisation and unnecessary managerialism that is pervasive in the university system.

This is important because of the role that higher education can play in a society with high levels of unemployment and chronic inequality. Until now, education has been about elite transition within the framework of an ethic defined by the present market-driven capitalist system. This has engendered both uncritical thinking and an isolation from the key issues facing the vast majority of society – in particular the black working classes and marginalised communities.

A properly funded university system is necessary to engender and encourage cooperation, collegiality, collaboration and a new social compact based on a set of values in which knowledge is not commodified and is socially relevant.

Authors’ note: An extensive piece on these issues has been submitted to the New South African Review and a submission made to the Fees Commission. For further information, please contact lead author Salim Vally on salimvally1@gmail.com

Written with: Dr Mondli Hlatshwayo (University of Johannesburg), Rasigan Maharajh (Tshwane University of Technology), , Mr Enver Motala (University of Fort Hare), Ms. Leigh-Ann Naidoo (University of the Witwatersrand) Prof Salim Vally (University of Johannesburg) and myself  [Mr Zolisa Marawu (Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University)]

June 8, 2016 2.18pm