#obviously we don’t know exactly what noises dinos made

[cretaceous-if]

I was watching Prehistoric Planet 2 and omg the baby Isisaurs make the cutest noises.

(You might need to turn your volume up quite high).

[crowdedimagines]

Who Is That? (Harry Styles)

“Can I get two daiquiris and a shot of tequila, please?” I ask the bartender leaning over the bar. As I wait I turn to my left and see the man who walked into the restaurant only minutes ago, seemingly capturing everyone’s attention, including mine.

“Hi.” I greet, turning to look into his green eyes.

He gives me only a tight lipped smile before taking a sip of his own drink. Not even bothered to fully look in my direction.

“My friend sent me over here, and I normally don’t do this but-” Before I even get the chance to finish my sentence the man interrupts me. I had been on my way over to talk to him and introduce myself after I was highly encouraged by my friend at our table.

“We can take a picture, but please wait a while to post it and you can’t tag the restaurant. I’m about to have dinner with my family and I would prefer to keep this quiet.”

“What?” I ask, my brows furrowing. This is not at all where I thought it would go. Who does this guy think he is?

“A picture? That’s what you were coming over here for? C’mon, let’s do it then.” He states as if it’s obvious, looking at me as if I’m daft.

I let out a laugh and shake my head in disbelief.

“Do you know who I am?” He seems genuinely curious now, not quite as entitled as he was acting earlier. His brows express how shocked and confused he truly is. “You don’t need to pretend or anything, it’s fine. It happens all the time.”

“Am I supposed to? Do we know each other?”

“You honestly don’t know who I am?” He doesn’t bother to answer my questions as he scratches at his chin for a few seconds. He lets out a scoff as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I haven’t a clue who you are, and I’m not sure how much I care anymore. I was coming over because I thought you were handsome, but now I kinda think you’re an ass.”

Finally the bartender comes back with my drinks, I quickly throw back the shot.

“Cheers. I hope you have a lovely evening.” I mutter, not even trying to hide the sarcastic tone in my voice.

I set down the shot glass and take a daiquiri in each hand and start to walk back to my table. His hand gently catches me on my shoulder, forcing me to stop.

“I’m sorry, you’ve just caught me at the end of a rough day. It’s not very often I come across someone who doesn’t know who I am.”

“It’s fine.” I keep walking not caring to hear anymore from him and he lets go of me.

I don’t know what I expected. I never should have bothered to say anything. He could have remained that beautiful stranger, rather than the ass who opened his mouth.

“How’d it go?” Hannah gushes as I set down the drinks and sit down. Her cheeks must be burning for how wide her smile is.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask. It takes all of my willpower to not completely turn around and get one more look at him, to see if his eyes are still on me. The way she keeps staring behind me proves that I’m right.

“Well duh! You just talked to Harry Styles!” She can’t wipe the smile off her face, “And he’s totally still checking you out!”

“Yeah, who is that?”

“Do you remember hearing about One Direction before you left?” She asks, trying to jog my memory from years ago. My knowledge of pop culture from the past years is severely lacking.

“Kind of. A boy band, right?”

“Yes! He’s one of the boys, they’ve all gone solo. Harry’s done really well, he’s even been in movies. Unless you’re ancient, literally everyone knows who he is.”

“You sent me over to say hi to him knowing that he’s some big hot shot famous guy?” I laugh. Of course Hannah would think that's a lovely idea.

“What? What was the harm, if it went well that’s awesome. If not, you never have to see him again!”

Well, she has a point there.

For the past six years I’ve spent my time with Love Volunteers to teach Ghanaian youth creative arts. It was some of the best years ever, it felt amazing to give back and feel like I was making a difference. Eventually it had to come to an end, so that led me coming back home to Los Angeles. Ghana will always hold a special place in my heart, along with all of the people I met there.

I’m pulled back into whatever Hannah was saying when she throws her head back in a loud laugh, thankfully off the topic of Harry. I tried to ignore it when a few minutes ago he walked by with two other people. He did say that he had dinner with his family tonight.

The rest of the meal goes well. I get to catch up on everything that I’ve missed that didn’t come across well in the letters we exchanged or since the last time I visited. It’s nice to be back in the states and be able to live more freely. It was time for me to come home, I spent the past week with my family who were glad to have me home. Today I moved into my new apartment and back in my city. I start my new job in a few days, similarly I will still be working with kids. Teaching was always the plan for me to come home to, I just never knew I was going to be gone so long. I was able to skip my student teaching year and use my time spent in Ghana as a form of credits.

“Alright, will that be all for you tonight? Could I get you any desert?” Our waitress politely asks, smiling down at us. She reaches for the menu to run through a few of the different things they offer. Hannah and I already both agreed that we are too full at this point to add on.

“Just the bill please, that would be great.” Hannah smiles, “We need it split if that could be possible.”

“Actually that’s been taken care of.”

“What?” I question, brows furrowing.

“Yes, a man at the bar took care of it earlier. He said he owed you an apology.” The waitress smiles as if it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. Obviously she knows who he is. She wishes us a good night before walking away.

“Can you believe that?” I ask, walking side by side with Hannah to the door. We both sat for a minute, Hannah trying to figure out what it means that he paid for our meal.

“No! Can you believe that Harry Styles paid for our meal? He’s so kind.” She gushes.

“Yeah it would be if it wasn’t out of guilt.” I push open the door, we’re met with a warm breeze as the sun is setting. It casts a perfectly pink and orange haze over everything in its reach.

“Okay, so I’ll see you later? Are you absolutely sure that you don’t need a ride?”

“I’m positive! My apartment is in the complete opposite direction of yours. I’m calling an Uber right now!”

“Okay, fine! Call me later, text once you’re back home. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Hannah gets in her car and waves as she pulls away and I get my phone out of my bag. The Uber will pick me up in twenty minutes, so I wait patiently outside the restaurant. The restaurant was sort of on the outskirts of L.A. if you can even call it that. It doesn’t exactly surprise me that it’ll take a while to get someone out here.

The door bursts open and it grabs my attention with the sudden noise. It’s Harry and the two women he was with. I catch his eye while he hugs one of them, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, before wishing them a goodbye.

He takes a few steps closer to me, while he waits for the valet to bring him his car.

“You didn’t need to do that.” I pull my purse a little tighter over my shoulder.

“No, trust me, I did. My mother raised me better than that, I’m sorry I was being rude. I promise, I’m never like that.”

“Well, never say never.” I fight looking down at my phone to see how far away “Adam” is. This might be the longest twenty minutes of my life if it continues like this.

“Ouch.” He grins, it seems like either his meal or his company put him in a brand new mood.

“Sorry.” I smile over my shoulder, “My friend actually lives in the real world and she seems to think you’re really kind, so I’ll get off your case.”

“You don’t live in the real world?” He questions.

“I do now, but I didn’t for a while.” I laugh, “I’ve spent the past six years volunteering in Ghana. I really had no clue who you were. I wasn’t exactly staying up to date on the new music when I was over there. According to Hannah, you’re a pretty big deal.”

Harry lets out a wide grin, a blush gracing his cheeks. So he is humble. Okay, maybe Hannah was right, he’s alright.

“Some might say that, yes.” He looks down at his shoes, tapping one against the other.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” I tease.

“I’m not shy, I’m just trying to figure out how I can change your image of me. I’m always going to be my first impression, right? Some ass at the bar with a grumpy attitude?”

“I think you’re doing fine. Thankfully, no one is made up of one moment. You’ve done more than enough to make up for it.” I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Your slate is clean.”

“Well thanks for that.” He laughs, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah, just waiting for my ride.” I check my phone to see that Adam has canceled the ride for some reason. I’m sure he’s just realized how far it is to get here and then turn right around to go back into the city to my apartment building, “Which was just canceled, lovely.”

I try to find another Uber, but there is no one close by. I spend a minute refreshing, waiting for anyone to accept my request.

“I could give you a lift if you needed.”

“What?” I ask, shocked.

As if on cue, the valet pulls up with his car. They give him his keys and thank him, I look between him and the car with doubt. This man is a total stranger to me.

“I mean, it’s getting late. Your options aren’t going to get much better as it gets later.” Harry explains. He could be right, even by now the sky is starting to take on a dark blue.

“How do I know that you’re not trying to kidnap or kill me?” I ask, “I don’t know you at all.”

“Look me up then, google me.” He shrugs, his smile never wavering.

“Google doesn’t know if you’re secretly a creep.” I roll my eyes.

“Fine, then you drive.”

“You’re going to let me drive your 1972 Ferrari Dino?” I ask skeptically.

“You know cars?” His smile widens.

“Better than boy bands.” I tease, I bite back a smirk.

He throws his head back in a loud laugh. It makes me smile just seeing him laugh. It’s refreshing to see someone so happy and easy to laugh at my sassy remark.

“Fair enough.” He throws his keys up for me to catch.

“Are you sure? I haven’t driven a car in six years.” I laugh. I drove atvs when I was over there, but never actually a car.

“Well what’s life if it’s not a risk.”

“What if I’m a crazy person?”

“I’m trusting you. Same way you’re trusting me.”

“You might actually be crazy.” I scoff, looking at the keys in my hands.

“Maybe.” He grins, his eyes go wide for a second.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He’s already seated in the passenger spot. I roll my eyes and walk around to the other side of the car to get in.

“You might be the most mad person I’ve ever met.” I pull my sunglasses out of my bag and put them on my head to keep my hair out of my face. Since I started the car, Harry’s taken the top off the car.

“Maybe. Or maybe the most sane.” He flashes me a grin, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Are you sure about this?” I tease, revving the engine a few times.

“No one’s stopping you, love. The brake is the one of the left.” He leans back without a care in the world, even throwing in his own banter.

I didn’t realize how much I missed driving until this exact moment. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never driven like this. A one of a kind sports car with the top down. A famous rockstar picking the music as we drive down the 101 in towards the city. The feeling of being free, and in complete control. The music is loud, my hair flying back behind me, wild and untamed.

“So, what are you doing now that you’re back? I assume you’re staying here for a while then if you have an apartment?”

We finally start talking again once we’re downtown, it’s easier to hear each other without the wind from the freeway.

“I am.” I look over my shoulder to switch lanes, “I actually have a job as a teacher that I start pretty soon.”

“Well that’s lovely, what grade?”

“Sixth.” I smile. “Yeah, I’m really excited. When I was in Ghana I was teaching youth creative arts. I was only supposed to go for nine months, a year max, but I really loved it there.”

I glance over at him, to see if he’s listening, or if he even cares.

“Have you ever just had that feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be? Just a place that felt exactly like home?”

“Yeah, once or twice.” He admits, “If that’s how you felt, why leave?”

“Because I couldn’t stay forever. My life is here. I’ve had that feeling twice in my whole life. Once was there, and the other was here. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me happy being here.”

“I know the feeling.” He smiles.

Shortly after that we make it to my apartment building, I pull into a spot in the front. My doorman gives us a nod making us laugh.

“Thank you for getting me home, and letting me drive. I think this might be my new favorite car.” I run my hand along the dash with appreciation.

“I think I’m going to miss her.” I tease with a pout.

“She’s always the best until you’re on a grocery trip.” He jokes.

“Well thank you Harry.” I take off my seatbelt and walk around to the sidewalk. I wave over my shoulder seeing him get out as I walk up the steps.

“Maybe I could get your number.” He pauses to clear his throat, “You know, so you can see the car again.”

“Just to see the car?” I grin.

“Well, I’ll be there too.” He

“I think we could make that happen.”

He reaches his phone out toward me to fill out a contact.

“Y/n.” He grins reading it off his phone.

“That’s me.” I simper.

“I’ll be calling you, Y/n.” Harry smirks and takes a few backwards steps towards his car.

“I’m counting on it, Harry.”

plz let me know what y’all think! xoxo

PART TWO

[transraptortrainer]

Brooklyn unboxes Kenji's feelings about a certain fanny-pack-wearing, Anky-loving boy they know... Inspired by @theswampspirit 's post!

[FANFIC | Rated T for mild language. Spoilers for Camp Cretaceous S1!]

It was yesterday when they had found it. Footprints by the monorail, both that of small shoes and small dinosaur feet, trailed their way towards the main park. It was the first and only sign that their friend Ben had survived the attack by the pteranodons, and was still on the island with them. 

However, despite their optimism, the kids had yet to find anything else. Rainfall soon after had washed away what remained of the prints, and even then, they were at least a day behind Ben - wherever he was going.

From the south dock, they traveled north to the golf course and reluctantly decided to settle there for the night. Small buildings, parking lots for carts, and rest stops for golfers dotted the grassy plains here. Brooklyn and Kenji remained at a concrete building, keeping the fire going as Darius and the others searched for supplies in the surrounding shops. 

Brooklyn dipped a rag into a small creek and wrung it out slightly. Little bird baths like these were all the kids could manage so far. Unless they found some hot running water at the hotels in the main park, they wouldn't exactly be at their freshest until they were rescued. Not the greatest state of affairs, but "kinda clean" was better than "brachy-behind air quality". 

To her right, Kenji sat, exhausted by their long day of travel. Brooklyn thought about the kind of person she had assumed Kenji to be when they first met, and then compared that to who he ended up being. Sure, he was still a jerk, but only sometimes. Perhaps the most surprising change was how distraught the boy had been after the group had lost Ben. 

The fanny pack, previously dubbed "dork pouch", was tied around his waist, where it had been for days now. He never removed it. Even when Yaz offered to carry it instead, he refused to give it up. At first it was just...sad...it stood as a reminder that they had lost a friend. Brooklyn had wondered if she was the only one who was tired of looking at it and being reminded of the guilt. 

But then there was yesterday. Sammy had spied the prints in the ground and was tied with Kenji for being the first to utter the idea that Ben was still out there. Ever since then, Kenji seemed more like himself. More like everything was alright in his world. 

"You really do miss him, huh?" Brooklyn asked, airing her thoughts in the vaguest possible way.

"What?" Kenji replied, baffled. "No! Who are we talking about? I mean, what kind of monster wouldn't miss his friend-" 

Brooklyn watched speculatively as the boy floundered at the question. It was hilarious, honestly, because who wouldn't think that Kenji, the idiotically boastful yet resourceful smartass, struggling to respond to a simple question was funny? And let's be real, that use of "friend" felt all the more ridiculous as Kenji's hand instinctively rested on the fanny pack around his waist. 

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow and returned to wiping the dirt from her face and hairline. In the past day, the chance that Ben might still be alive felt so much greater. And on another note, it brought her a lot of guilt considering how quickly she assumed the frail, clumsy germaphobe hadn't made it. She had to hope that Ben's feelings wouldn't be hurt. But those signs they had found...it had to mean something. 

"I'm just saying, you've seemed in muuuuch better spirits since yesterday," Brooklyn replied, dragging her sneakers in the loose dirt and piling up a shapeless mound. "Out of all of us, I know you were the most...lost by what happened." 

Kenji scanned Brooklyn's face cautiously, some form of shock in his eyes. Maybe being raised a rich, only child with absent parents had something to do with it, but he always seemed so surprised by how well everyone read him. Maybe more so by the way no one took his bullshit for an answer.

"M-maybe," he finally said. He rubbed a palm against his neck, his brows furrowing. "Maybe!" he said again, seemingly just in case Brooklyn hadn't heard the first time. He looked at the ground, a smile coming across his face, but only briefly. "I wonder how he's doin' out there…" 

Brooklyn rinsed the towel in the stream before snapping it dry and laying it out flat on the rail. "If I know him, he's probably desperately searching for some sanitizer," she joked with a chuckle. 

"If he's not camped out by a log he also tripped on earlier!" Kenji retorted, and the pair's laughter echoed around the clearing, accompanied by the crackle of the fire. 

However, it wasn't long after that Kenji grew quiet yet again. Brooklyn could tell this was one of those rare moments where he actually thought before he spoke. Leaned over his knee, he propped his head up on his hand. "But I wonder if he thinks he's alone here…"

That's a lot of wondering he's doing, Brooklyn thought. She had half the mind to make a joke about him using his brain too much, but that kind of sarcastic reply seemed more like Yaz's territory. "C'mon, Kenji. If we didn't send help back from the mainland, there's no way his mother wouldn't have. He has to know that." 

Kenji nodded slowly, his thumb tapping the fanny pack yet again. "Plus he's got Bumpy, right? Anky-saurus-es or whatever are tough! Not tough enough to take the Indominus, but…" he added. 

"Right!" Brooklyn said with an affirming point of her finger. Whimsically, she plopped onto the concrete ledge across from Kenji and observed him more. 

Now, she didn't want to come off as too people-watch-y. That couldn't be good for the size of Kenji's head. He'd probably say something about how everyone looks to him for guidance or something else indicative of his constant attention-seeking behaviors. But even now, Kenji seemed well within his own mind. 

Still thinking about Ben, she decided. 

The two of them were pretty sweet together. Kenji liked to act like he wasn't a fan of Ben's cuddly and apprehensive nature, but surely he couldn't have hated it that much. Why? Because any good content creator knows when there's more than meets the eye. Maybe Kenji just needed a little push to make him realize. And Brooklyn was a master reporter, of course. If there was one thing she knew, it's that people love to talk about themselves.

"Ben's probably thinking of us too, don't you think? If he's out there, I mean," she began, tipping her chin up to look at the glimmering stars. "Maybe even thinking of you right now." 

Kenji stirred, a small, tired smile making its way into his voice. "What do you mean? After I was such a jerk to him, I kinda doubt it."

"Really?" Brooklyn turned back to him, surprised. 

Gesturing uncomfortably, Kenji seemed to regret his word choice. "Just that...you know, I yelled at him. Said that stuff about Bumpy." His voice trailed off with a surprising guilt. "I - we took him for granted, and it was...shitty of us."

Brooklyn nodded quietly. "Buuut, you also saved his life, you know. I think it's pretty clear that you made him feel safer," she stated warmly, pressing her hands together. 

Kenji shuffled awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the dirt. "You think so?" he asked, before quickly adding, "Not that it matters to me, obviously… Wait, did he tell you that?" 

Could he have been making it any more obvious? Brooklyn giggled, rolling her eyes. "You could call it intuition, or just common sense, seeing-things-because-I-have-eyes?" She lifted her legs onto the bench, laying with her back rested against the wall. "What do you think he'd be doing if he were here now, with us?" 

"Besides churning up some kind of dino baby food for Bumpy?" Kenji said plainly, raising a brow. "He'd probably be flinching at every little noise, just like the rest of us, and clinging to m-" he cut himself off, a first ever blush faintly hitting his cheeks.

"Bingo…" Brooklyn exclaimed quietly with a wink. "Which brings me back to my first question, Mister Kon. You miss him, don't you?" 

Kenji frowned. "If he was here clinging to my side, I'd obviously tell him to relax and let up his superhuman grip!" He paused, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Except I am kind of cold anyway, so if he wanted to sit with me then whatever."

"Soooo, you're telling me if we did find him," Brooklyn prodded. "You definitely wouldn't sweep him up in your arms and smile like the kid with the most candy bars on Halloween?" 

"No!" Kenji replied indignantly. A moment passed. "...Well. Ugh, don't rule it out, I guess. Should've known you were just trying to get me to admit something embarrassing…" 

She smiled softly, placing her hand on her chest proudly. "Well, Brooklyn is the name, annoying pestering is the game."

[schrijverr]

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 2 of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: grief/mourning and mentions of unhealthy coping and death.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Dwarf Sunflowers Means ‘Adoration’

Thomas phone lit up on a Sunday, the screen blinking with Alex’s contact as Thomas frowned confused as he picked up: “Alex? What do you need?”

“Oh thank god, Thomas,” Alex’s voice sounded hoarse, like he’d been crying.

“Are you okay?” the words were out of his mouth before he could question them.

There was a shaky breath, before Alex said: “No- yes- maybe? I don’t know, just- fuck- it’s- it’s his birthday today and I normally can handle it, but- I don’t know, just- Pip was so excited about getting his Halloween costume and they look so much alike and I- I can’t deal with it.”

“What can I do? Just tell me what to do,” Thomas urged him, already changing his sweat pants for comfortable jeans.

“Can you come over?” Alex sounded small, “I know it isn’t really what we do, but Pip likes you and I just can’t be alone right now, but everyone always looks at me so pitying and I just- not today.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m on my way, be there in five,” Thomas said, grabbing his keys on the way out.

Before he hung up, he swore he heard a soft thank you come through, but he must have made that up. There was no way Alex was thanking him.

He got to Alex’s house in four minutes and felt oddly nervous as he knocked on the door.

After a few seconds the door swung open to reveal a rumpled Alex. He was clad in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair tied up in a messy bun and he had red rims under his eyes as the world seemed to weigh him down.

From inside the house a TV could be heard and Alex shrugged: “I sat Pip down with a movie and that probably makes me a shitty parent, but I think it would be more shitty to have him witness my breakdown in the bathroom.”

Thomas didn’t respond, just stepped forwards and pulled Alex into a tight hug, standing there as the other started to cry again, clutching his shirt.

“Just let it out,” he encouraged Alex as he walked them to the kitchen, still hugging as he closed the door behind them and made sure they wouldn’t attract Philip’s attention.

He waited, holding Alex as the man cried out his frustration and grief, while Thomas just petted his hair and let him. He said no soothing words, there were no words that could soothe this deep ache and he knew it.

After a few minutes Alex had tired himself out and just hiccuped slightly.

“Alex, I’m gonna ask you the shittiest question there is, but what has you most upset right now? Out of everything, what is making you the most upset?” Thomas asked.

It wasn’t quiet as Alex thought, the man mumbling under his breath. He’d always done it and Thomas just had to wait until Alex could form his thoughts louder.

“I guess- I guess I’m just frustrated that I can’t enjoy something as stupid as going to buy a Halloween costume with my son, that I can’t seem to shake the shadow in the happy moments even when I want to and I know John would have wanted me to,” Alex finally answered.

Thomas nodded, his mind forming a plan.

“What’s Philip dressing up as?” he asked.

The question threw Alex off guard and he simply answered: “A dinosaur, why?”

He chuckled slightly at the costume choice, then said: “Okay, this is what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go upstairs, you’re going to shower, you’re going to get dressed in comfortable but presentable clothes. Yeah? And then we’re going to the store and getting Philip his costume. After that we can go say hi to John if you want, show him the costume and then we’re getting hot chocolate. You got that?”

“I really don’t know if I can go outside today. I don’t want to see the world move on when I feel it should just stand still,” Alex whispered.

Thomas gave him a comforting look and said: “I know. It fucking sucks, but Philip is excited for his costume and sitting here feeling shitty for yourself isn’t going to make you feel better. Either of you.”

It seemed Alex was giving in, so Thomas played his ace: “I’ll be there the whole time, if you need to break down, I’ll handle Philip. Let him have a good day.”

“Fuck, I hate that you’re right,” Alex sighed. Victory.

“I’m always right,” Thomas smirked, he couldn't help himself, “Does Philip need to get dressed or is he good to go?”

“Just needs shoes,” Alex replied.

“Good, I’ll go chat with him and you are going to…” he waited for Alex to finish the sentence.

“I’m gonna go upstairs, shower, put on some clothes,” he listed.

“Exactly, now go,” Thomas ushered Alex up the stairs, before starting the kettle. Coffee wouldn’t do the man any good, but tea might help. With that in progress he made his way over to the living room where Philip was watching A Land Before Timewith rapid attention, obviously captivated by the story.

He sat down next to Philip and smiled when the boy looked at him: “Hi there, Philip. Do you remember me? I’m Thomas, we met at your Papa’s office a while ago.”

Philip lit up: “Mr. Thomas!” then he got confused, “What are you doing here? Papa says you aren’t not-work friends, he says you wouldn’t come.”

Thomas tried to ignore the fact that Philip had apparently asked if he would be coming and Alex had decided to describe them as friends – work friends but still – to his son, no matter how much it made him happy inside.

“Well, kiddo, your Papa changed his mind, because today we’re going to get you a costume,” he told Philip, “I heard you’re going as a dino and I wanted to know more about them. Since you explained so well last time your Papa let me tag along, so you could explain more.”

“Really?” the boy’s eyes were like saucers and stars were dancing in them as he started to tell Thomas everything about the cool dino costume he was going to get.

He listened closely, nodding at all the good points and asking questions the kid seemed capable of answering.

When he heard noises of someone getting out of the shower upstairs, he led the kid to the door as he talked, getting his shoes on before Alex came downstairs.

Alex looked much better when he returned downstairs. His hair was still up in a bun, but it wasn’t as messy or greasy, just wet. His clothes were more comfort than fashion, but he didn’t look like a dumpster fire anymore and the bags under his eyes seemed to hold less weight.

Philip noticed his Papa, because he turned to him and rambled: “Papa, Mr. Thomas is coming with us to learn more about dinos and it’s going to be so much fun and he promised to buy me hot chocolate and he agrees that purple is a good dino color.”

“That’s nice, Pip,” Alex smiled tiredly, scooping the boy up into his arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek, before getting their coats.

Thomas held out his hand as they stepped outside and Alex shot him a confused look. He explained: “I’m driving, go sit with Philip in the back.”

Alex wordlessly handed him the keys and got in the backseat without any complains as he gave him the name and location of the costume store he’d wanted to visit.

While they drove Thomas watched how Alex just smiled at his rambling son. It was strange how patient and silent the man could be for his kid’s benefit, but Thomas could clearly see the same focus Alex gave all the tasks he seemed to care about.

At the store it seemed to be going fine, until Philip stepped out in a particularly shitty costume that looked more like a turtle than a dinosaur

Alex choked up, Thomas felt it beside him and with one glance it was confirmed when Alex nodded and gasped: “I’m gonna go for a sec.”

“Alright, Alex, go,” Thomas assured him, not looking to see him walk away.

Philip looked confused and asked: “What’s wrong with Papa?”

“Nothing to worry about buddy,” Thomas smiled, “He’s just having a bit of a rough day today and he needed to step away for a moment.”

The boy thought it over, then softly asked: “Is it like the other sad days? When one of my Aunties or Uncles come to pick me up and we have a sleep over?”

It seemed the kid was as smart as Alex had bragged and Thomas was surprised how open Alex was with the kid, though it seemed to be working.

“Yeah, buddy, kind of like the other sad days, but today your Papa is trying to turn his sad day into a happy day, so he’s trying to do that right now,” Thomas told him, “How about we go try on the purple dino costume? Purple is better than green anyway.”

Philip perked up at the suggestion and when Alex came back a little while later, he seemed a bit more put together and managed a real and big smile at Philip’s costume. They got the costume and Philip refused to take it off.

“Hey, Pip, do you want to go show Daddy your costume?” Alex asked him as they walked out of the store, the uncertainty weirdly tinting his voice.

The boy thought about it, then said: “Mr. Thomas says you’re trying to turn a sad day into a happy day, but you always seem sad when we go to show Daddy things.”

Alex was taken off guard by the reply, but squatted down to Philip’s level as he said: “Pip, going to show Daddy things might be sad, but it’s important to me that he gets to see you grow up. If you don’t want to go that’s okay, we won’t, but you don’t have to say no for me.”

It seemed Philip got it, because he asked: “Can we get flowers for Daddy? I liked leaving him flowers, it made his special place more special.”

“Of course we can get Daddy flowers, Pip,” Alex’s voice was thick with emotion and Thomas took the lead when walking to the flower shop.

Philip took extra care in picking out the flowers. He spotted dwarf sunflowers and asked: “Papa, you said Daddy’s favorite color was yellow, right? And that he was your sunshine.”

“Yeah, I sure did, Pip,” Alex answered, spotting the sunflowers Philip was looking at.

“Can we get these for him?” Philip asked, pointing them out.

“Yes, he would love those,” Alex said, picking up the flowers and paying for them.

They left the store and now the hard part came. Thomas was still driving, he hadn’t trustedAlex’s mental state before and he certainly wasn’t now, but he had to ask which cemetery to go to. Luckily, it seemed Alex had remembered as well and he just whispered: “Calvary cemetery,” as they got into the car.

The drive was quiet and Thomas wasn’t sure if he would be welcome to come with them, but when they got out of the car, Alex grabbed his hand, slightly shaking and pulled him along. So, Thomas followed as they walked through the rows.

Philip obviously already knew the way and he skipped out ahead of them the way only a kid who didn’t fully realize what this meant could. He stopped before a simple grave that read:

.

Lt. Col.

John Laurens-Hamilton

1988-2017

Loving father and doting husband

Noble soldier that protected his men till the end

.

Embedded in the grave there was a picture of a young man with long curly hair pulled into a ponytail. He was smiling into the camera, freckles splattered on his face like the milky way as he looked at the person behind the camera fondly. He was dressed in a basic military uniform and in the background there was a dusty military base visible.

Alex fell to his knees in front of the grave and greeted it: “Hi, Jacky, how have you been? Good, I hope. I’m going to have words with God if I come there and I hear they’ve been treating you like crap.”

He let out a shaky sigh, then went on: “I wanted to come wish you a happy birthday. They didn’t have the candy you liked at the store, but I’ve always told you licorice is disgusting so we got little chocolate bars for the trick-or-treaters instead.”

Silent tears streamed down his face: “I brought Pip with me, he’s going as a dinosaur this year and he wanted to show you his costume.”

Philip was standing next to his Papa, looking at the grave. When Alex said that he spoke up, this was obviously not the first time: “Hi Daddy, look at my costume,” he told the grave happily, “It gots spikes and it’s purple. Papa doesn’t like purple that much, but Mr. Thomas does, he helped me pick out my costume. I’m gonna be the bestest dino ever.”

Thomas hadn’t expected his name, so he looked up shocked from where he was keeping his distance. It was strange to be introduced to a dead man by his kid.

He hoped Alex wouldn’t mind that Philip talked about his rival to his late husband, though they weren’t really rivals anymore. They still argued, but there was a more familiar atmosphere around them.

It was nice, different, but nice.

Meanwhile Philip had been rambling on about school and what the other kids were dressing up as, before he remembered the flowers. He held them up and said: “We got you flowers. They are sunflowers and they’re yellow. Papa says you like yellow and they look fun, like little suns. Do you think that’s where they got their name?”

“I think so, buddy,” Alex answered for John with a strained voice.

“That’s cool,” Philip said, before going on, “I’m gonna put them on your special place. Auntie Eliza says this is kind of like your home, but it looks boring and yellow is a good color to help you be less boring. My room is yellow and it’s the bestest room there is. Papa allowed me to paint on one of my walls and I painted some dinos there.”

Throughout Philip’s conversation with John, Alex had pulled the little boy onto his lap and hugged him tightly.

When the boy was out of things to tell John, he started to squirm slightly, but it didn’t really look like Alex was willing to leave or let go. So Thomas stepped in.

He put his hand on Alex’s shoulder startling him slightly and softly said: “Here, I’ll walk around with Philip. Don’t worry, just take your time.”

Alex nodded gratefully and let Philip go, Thomas took his hand and asked: “Want to play a game with me, Philip?”

“Yeah!” Philip clapped in his hands.

“We’re going try to find all the stones with a little cross on it, okay?” Thomas felt slightly bad that he was turning other people’s final resting places into a game with a kid, but with his view of what death was like, he didn’t think they’d mind.

They had found around twenty-onegraves with a cross on it when Thomas noticed Alex get up. He steered Philip back to John’s grave while they looked and when they got back to the grave Alex smiled watery at Philip and asked: “What do you think of hot chocolate, Pip?”

Philip bounced excitedly and asked: “Is there whipped cream? Uncle Herc gave me hot chocolate with whipped cream and it was the yummiest.”

“We can ask,” Alex replied, taking his kid’s hand.

The drive to the small cafe started silent, but then Philip asked Thomas what sort of flowers he liked. Thomas told him cornflowers were his favorite and after that the two talked about flowers, while Alex stared out of the window.

It was still strange to see Alex without a fire burning in his eyes and Thomas remembered how Angelica had told him that Philip had probably saved his life. It was disturbing how accurate it seemed and Thomas wanted to shake the man until he was back to office Alex, but he knew that wasn’t what he needed right now and he knew he would have hated it.

Today reminded him that their grief was different. Alex’s was younger and unexpected. When he’d married Martha, he knew they would have limited time. She was not ripped from him, just softly eased out of his arms.

The loss still hurt, God, it hurt so much and sometimes he wanted to curl up into a ball and yank all of his hair out in the hope the numbness and pain just went away.

But he got used to it.

Martha was someone he could never forget. She’d always be there in his heart, guiding him to be a better man and keep going. It had taken a long while for him to get there, for him to see her hand on his shoulder wasn’t holding him in place, but pushing him forwards.

She’d always told him, he would do great things and he’d better keep a picture of her with him so that she could see it. And he would try to do that.

But Alex didn’t have that.

Alex had a man who had promised him a future together, who had told him forever ‘till the end, who gave him a family and said they would raise their child together. A man who was taken without warning.

Thomas couldn't imagine, but that wasn’t the point. He couldn't imagine the loss, but he could help soothe it by being there right now, because Alex couldn't use anyone pitying him today, couldn't use having to worry about Philip. So Thomas did what he couldn't.

In the cafe he got excited with Philip over the triple chocolate hot chocolate they had and ordered tea for him and Alex. He pointed out the painting they had on the wall and played I Spy, leaving Alex to sip his tea absentmindedly.

When Philip had a sufficient chocolate mustache and was falling asleep in his chair after the day, they left. The drive silent with Philip’s dozing.

At the house Thomas asked: “Do you want me to cook or are you good for now?”

Alex hesitated, then said: “I always make Hoppin’ Johns on his birthday and stuff, it’s a long story, but uhm- if you- I’d like you to stay. For dinner. Only if you want to of course.”

Thomas hadn’t expected the invitation, but accepted after a beat: “Well, I won’t say no to free food and Philip did promise to show me some of his drawings.”

“Who am I to deny you a Philip Hamilton Art Tour,” Alex smiled and let him into the house, informing Philip of the evening plans, which of course caused the boy to perk up again and drag Thomas along with him, while Alex retreated to the kitchen.

Alex sat down at the kitchen bar and just took a moment to sit and breathe.

This day had gotten easier throughout the years, but he could clearly remember how that first time he’d almost ignored baby Philip’s cries just because he didn’t want to get out of bed. God, he’d felt so guilty. John had always wanted a family, Alex too, but John dreamed of being a dad and he’d almost ruined that.

Back then he’d sworn to himself that Philip would never fall victim to his own grief ever again, so when he found himself spiraling today, he did what he found hardest: he asked for help.

He hadn’t known exactly what he was doing until Thomas picked up. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but he was glad he had. The man seemed to know exactly when to step in, what he couldn't handle and what he needed him to do.

And Pip liked him.

If you’d asked him about a month ago if he’d be okay with Thomas watching Pip and Pip being excited about it, he would have thrown a fit, but Thomas was surprisingly good with Pip. He seemed to listen and engage, never talk down.

It was weird to see, but Alex didn’t mind that much. His reaction to everything had been a breath of fresh air after all the worrying his friends always seemed to do.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his friends and they had dragged him through his darkest times, but they couldn't seem to get that he was doing fine. It was just some days that the grief creeped in and dragged him down, but that didn’t mean he would go back to zero immediately.

Sometimes their worrying made him feel like he was a bad parent and he had been a slightly bad parent when John had just died, but he had tried and he wanted to prove that he would die for his son, his pride and joy.

He knew it was stupid that he felt like that, that he felt the need to show them that they didn’t have to check up on him and take Philip for a few days when it got too bad, but he had always struggled with getting validation, so he cut himself some slack.

Looking up he saw the clock. Half an hour had already passed of him just sitting there and he should really start cooking.

Slowly he set out all the ingredients for the Hoppin’ Johns. He tried not to tear up too much as he cooked, though he felt justified in blaming some of the tears on the onions.

When he was done, he set the table, feeling weird that there were three plates. Usually his friends came together and it rarely happened that there were three people. It felt wrong on some level, but also nice. Alex preferred not to think about it as he called them for dinner.

Pip came bounding down the stairs, pulling Thomas along as he yelled: “Papa, Papa, I showed Mr. Thomas my dino drawings on the wall and the wall with my other drawings and he says they’re very good and I wanna be an artist some day and Mr. Thomas says I probably could, isn’t that cool!”

Alex smiled: “That’s very cool, Pip. Now come here and eat your dinner.”

“Yes, Papa,” Pip said, climbing onto his chair and sitting down. He saw the food and said: “This is Daddy’s food, right Papa? Are you gonna say the words?”

“Yeah, Pip, it’s Daddy’s food,” Alex confirmed.

Thomas shot him a questioning look and Alex explained: “We eat this on days special to John, his family was religious. He wasn’t that much, but he liked the idea of Heaven, so we say grace for Daddy’s food.”

Ah, Thomas thought, that made sense. Martha hadn’t been religious at all, but she had a great love for Christmas, so Thomas dutifully decorated the house each year, no matter what.

Alex held out his hands and Pip grabbed one and also held out his hand, Thomas grabbed them both, following their example and bowed his head.

“I thank you, Lord, for the food on our table,” Alex began saying grace, “Today we eat this food with gratefulness that you, up in the Heavens, are watching over our sweet departed John. May he be happy in your presence and well taken care of until we can join him. Amen.”

“Amen,” Philip echoed, so Thomas did as well, before they started eating.

The food was good and Thomas made sure to complement Alex on his cooking. The man blushed and said: “I picked it up over the years. There are only so many times you can eat instant noodles, before you try to learn.”

Thomas laughed at that and agreed, before Philip asked what instant noodles were and the conversation moved on.

When dinner was done, it was already quite late. Alex got up and said: “Come on, Pip. Plate to the kitchen and then we’re getting ready for bed. You have school tomorrow.”

They brought their dishes to the kitchen and Thomas offered to clean up while Alex got Philip into bed. Alex protested and Thomas said: “It’s not charity, Alex. It’s as a thank you for the food, it was delicious and my Southern hospitality wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful.”

Alex eyed him suspiciously, but tiredness just won out and he nodded, before leading Philip out of the kitchen despite his sleepy whining that he wasn’t tired.

It still baffled Thomas how soft Alex got with Philip, how all his burning passion seemed to turn into a hearth of warmth to keep Philip safe from the cold. Thomas was sure that if Alex had to sacrifice everything in his life just to make Philip smile, he would.

After half an hour the kitchen looked clean and Alex came down the stairs, saying: “He must have been really tired, he’s already asleep,” there was a beat of silence, “Do you want coffee? Or maybe wine after this day.”

Thomas smirked: “I don’t think wine is a good idea or too much caffeine, but I wouldn’t mind some tea though.”

“Good. It was mostly a joke anyway – the wine part – I need to be up early tomorrow again to catch up on all the work I’ve ignored today,” Alex replied, starting the kettle, “Maybe tea is a good idea, I’ll join you.”

“Alex, it’s Sunday, what work could you have been doing?” he asked, baffled.

The other shrugged: “I work on my financial plan for the company and Washington isn’t the best with tech, so I go through his inbox to check if everything send correctly or if he missed anything accidentally. And I write essays for this blog I run, though that’s not really something I have to do per se.”

“Damn, you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep going like that,” Thomas told him, “And does Washington know you’re doing that?”

Alex shrugged: “I think he’s on to me, but he hasn’t confronted me yet, so he either hasn’t noticed or it’s helping and he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Thomas made a ‘that’s fair’-face, before commenting: “You and Washington are close, if he allows you to do stuff like that.”

“I suppose,” Alex pouring the hot water in their cups, “He’s kinda the one who was a solid in my life ever since I got to the States. Me and John both served under him in the military.”

“You were military?” Thomas asked, surprised.

“Yeah, didn’t last long though,” Alex answered, “I joined at seventeen, came out as trans two years later and quit, not the best environment. The only good thing in that whole institution were John and Washington.”

“I didn’t know,” Thomas said, “That explains the Grandpa George thing.”

Alex blushed at that and muttered: “I didn’t start that, it’s fucking embarrassing. Angelica taught it to Pip and Washington went with it because he’s a little shit and I can’t really say anything, because he and his wife are the only grandparents he has.”

“John’s parents are gone?” Thomas asked.

“Nah, but they were homophobic transphobic bigoted assholes, so they’re as good as out of the picture,” Alex told him, “Both our sides were equally empty at the wedding, though some of his siblings managed to sneak out.”

“What was your wedding like?” Thomas asked, they had moved to sit at the kitchen bar while they talked and Alex lit up at the question.

“It was one of the best daysof my life. We both had decided on white suits, I looked like and idiot, but John was beautiful,” Alex told him, “John wanted to walk down the isle real bad and Washington gave him away, he cried. Never admitted it to anyone, but he cried. I did too though, so I can’t really judge.”

Alex took a sip, then went on: “We convinced Herc to be our flower girl, it was hilarious. And the Schuyler sisters rapped as a bridesmaid speech, it was absolutely priceless. Did you know Eliza can beat box?”

“No,” Thomas chuckled.

“Me neither, but she can and it’s so weird. She had like this blue dress Herc made, looking like a proper lady and then she beat boxed while Angie and Peggy rapped about how me and John were both stupid for not confessing for three years,” Alex laughed.

“You did confess for three whole years?” Thomas asked with disbelief.

He tried to ignore how his own crush on Alex had been festering for the past two years, ever since he’d met him. A crush he had pushed down and instead argued with the man every time as if he were a school boy, but he had his reasons, he told himself.

“Yeah, we were great at dancing around each other,” Alex smiled, “Both convinced that him using every phone call while away on duty to call me was super platonic. And then in college we roomed together, shoving our beds together, platonically of course.”

Thomas laughed at that, before asking: “How did you get together if you were both that dense?”

Alex was blushing like an idiot, Thomas noted, and he hadn’t answered Thomas’s question. Glee lit up in his eyes as he asked: “Okay, how dumb was it? It must be dumb if you’re that embarrassed about it.”

“We accidentally lockedourselvesinacloset,” he confessed quickly as if saying it faster made it disappear.

“How the fuck do you do that?” Thomas wheezed.

“It was a stupid closet anyway,” Alex huffed, crossing his arms and looking away, “It was a supply closet and we were cleaning it and we had set the brooms outside and when I closed the door to get behind it one of them fell and locked us in.”

“That’s amazing,” Thomas said.

Alex gave up his huffy manner and grinned as he agreed: “In hindsight it was hilarious, yeah. God, it was so stupid, John was so stupid.”

It was quiet for a moment, Alex was lost in thought and Thomas just reveling in the calm.

“What was he like? John, I mean,” Thomas asked softly.

Alex raised a brow as he looked at him, but apparently saw nothing off putting in them, because he answered: “John was the stupidest, bravest and kindest person I know. He and Pip are so alike that it hurts sometime.”

He sighed deeply, then said: “He was rash, always rushing into danger first when in the military, last one out too.”

The last part sounded bitter and Thomas couldn't blame him.

“John loved to draw as well,” Alex told him, “I still have all his sketchbooks and one of the rooms in the house is an atelier. At first I couldn't bring myself to change it, but now- well, maybe Pip will use it someday.”

“But he wanted to be a nurse, drawing was just a hobby,” Alex wenton, “John loved helping people. Whenever someone in ourfriend group was sick, he would be at their door with soup and meds in no time. Whenever I had my period he would cuddle with me and watch shitty movies and bring me chocolate, it was so sweet.”

“He sounds like a catch,” Thomas said.

“He really was,” Alex chuckled, voice slightly breaking. It was nice to tell Thomas about John, he hadn’t known him. Everyone already knew John, had their own stories with him and their own interpretations of him. They would always color Alex’s John with their own versions of him, but Thomas couldn't do that. It was refreshing.

They talked for a little while, before Alex was drooping in his seat, the day had been emotionally exhaustive.

“I’m gonna go home and you should go to bed, Alex,” Thomas said after watching Alex almost fall out of his chair a few times.

“You know, for once I’m not even going to bother arguing with you,” Alex replied, getting out of his chair to see Thomas out.

Before he could leave, a small voice stopped: “Thomas, I, uhm- I wanted to- just, uhm, you know, thank you.”

Thomas turned back, trying to keep the surprise off his face as hesmiled: “No problem. Goodnight, Alex.”

“Uh, yeah, goodnight, Thomas.”

The big shift he had expected a month ago happened that Monday, though big wasn’t the right word necessarily. It was subtle for anyone who didn’t know any better. The arguments turned into banter and the screaming matches about company protocol turned into tentative collaboration.

No one who hadn’t known before how much they yelled and argued would call the changes big, but there was something that made it special.

Two months ago everyone would call them rivals – enemies if they wanted to be dramatic – with a mutual hate that permeated the work floor. But now there was a soft friendship starting between them that grew through the weeks.

~~~~

A/N:

This is not a guide on how to deal with grief, for the love of god don’t take advise from fics. I have tried my best to make it not shit and somewhat accurate, but I can promise nothing.

[strayycarrot]

Dancing in the Rain - Chapter 3 (Seventeen Dino X reader)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Words: 2323

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Notes:The end of this is so cute, I was barely able to write it. I hope the sweetness doesn’t give y’all a toothache.

“See? I told you I could make it to your dorm and back without dying”.

You have no idea why you’re texting him again. But you just can’t stop thinking about him. At least before you met him you didn’t have memories of him talking to you, smiling, touching you haunting your every waking moment. And now it’s his fault that you can’t fall asleep.

“You got lucky. That proves nothing.”

“Why the hell are you awake?? It’s 3am!”

“I could ask you the same question”.

“You’ve got a busy schedule, I don’t!”, you explain.

“You still need sleep”. Why? On earth? Does he care?

“I can’t ok. There’s too much going through my head right now”.

“Tell me”.

You hesitate. You can’t tell him that he’s the reason. But if you’re being honest, there are plenty of other things that are keeping you awake.

“Mostly I’m just worried about my brother”, you admit. “I haven’t heard from him in a while”.

“Oh? How old is your brother? Are you two close?”

“Yeah. He’s only my half-brother but we grew up together. He’s 7 so I feel like I practically raised him. The reason I moved here to live with my mom is that I got into a huge fight with my dad and he pretty much threw me out.”

You stare at the long text you just sent, already regretting opening up to Dino. You don’t know him that well and you’re not sure how he’ll react.

“Do you have any reason to believe that your brother isn’t safe?”

“No!”, You hurriedly reply. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’s just that he’s been getting bullied a little at school and I can’t protect him from that over here. He’s deaf but dad wanted him to go to a regular school. I’m just not sure it’s good for him.”

You think about your brother. Just because he can’t hear the other kids laugh at him doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of what’s going on. You remember how upset he was that one time when he came home from school. He’s always been fine at home since you and your dad know sign language, but you know that it’s hard for him to feel so alone, so different, so excluded when he’s around ignorant hearing people.

“Is your dad not helping him? Bullying is a serious issue and I understand that you’re a little worried.”

You smile. It’s just like Dino to willingly give up his sleep to listen to your problems and do his best to help you.

“I just hope he’s ok. He hasn’t been replying to my texts.”

“Have you tried sending your dad a message?”

You frown, thinking about your last interaction with your dad.

“I’d rather not. He hates me.” You hope Dino won’t ask you to elaborate.

“I’m sure that’s not true”.

You shake your head.

“You don’t understand”.

“Then help me understand! I want to be there for you”.

“Why?” It doesn’t make sense to you. He just met you, yet he’s being a better friend than any of your other friends ever have been. Why would he even want to be your friend?

“Why not? From what I can tell you’re an amazing person. If this is keeping you up at night, you shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

You sigh. How do you deserve him in your life?

“My dad caught me kissing my friend. I didn’t think he was homophobic, but apparently I was wrong. I never knew how to tell him that I’m bi, and now I know that I was right to be afraid”.

“I’m sorry he reacted so badly. I bet that was very difficult to go through. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at”. You smile as you read his message. You never told anyone before, even your mom doesn’t know why you and your dad were arguing. It feels good to read those words.

“Thank you Dino. That’s exactly what I needed to hear”. You cringe at your word choice because obviously you can’t hear a text message. But you’re sure he understands what you mean. You think about what it would be like if he was there with you right now, sitting on your bed in the dark and saying those comforting words out loud.

“I’m here for you. Even if I can’t help much. Please know that you can always talk to me. I’m pretty busy most of the time but I’ll make time for you whenever I can”.

You roll your eyes. He needs to stop being so selfless.

“Just go to sleep already. I’ll be ok.'' And you know you will be. Somehow, whenever you’re talking to Dino, the world looks just a tiny bit brighter.

It’s Saturday, and you’re bored out of your mind. Your mom is working - in her world, weekends don’t exist - so you wrack your brain trying to come up with something useful that you can do, something that will distract you from the fact that Dino hasn’t texted you since that night.

Deciding that it’s time to stop staring at your phone, you put on an old t-shirt and some cut-off shorts and take the bus to the garden center. Your mom’s yard is bare and you love flowers, so you decide there’s no better way to spend your last Saturday before school starts planting flowers for your mom. After all, you live here now, so you have every right to add some splashes of color to the yard.

You walk through the aisles of the garden center with a huge smile on your face. You stop in front of a yellow rose and bend over to smell the flower. Your eyes are closed. Birds are chirping somewhere close by. It’s still wet and a little fresh since it’s early in the day, but the sun feels nice on your face.

The noise of a camera taking a photo has you open your eyes and turn around. Your eyes find Dino’s. He slowly lowers his camera and flashes you a bright smile.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be taking pictures of me!”

Jun is standing several feet to your left, posing with another flower.

“Sorry”. Dino turns and snaps a picture of Jun.

You know you should probably leave them alone, but you can’t help being curious. You walk towards where they are looking at the photos together now.

“Can I see?”, you ask. You take the camera out of Dino’s hands and quickly flip through the photos until you get to the next-to-last one. It’s so zoomed in that you can’t even see Jun. You lean your head to the side. You look happy in the photo, carefree. You frown when you realize that your outfit is a lot more casual than theirs.

“Uh, could I please have my camera back?” You look up.

“Oh, right”. You hand the camera back to Dino and for a split second, your fingers brush his. You blush and look at him. Your eyes meet and you can’t look away.

Suddenly, Jun clears his throat.

“Dino? I have to go.”

Dino doesn’t move.

“Go ahead, I’ll meet you later.” You watch his lips move while he talks. Why does he have to be so freaking hot?

You blink and take a step back. You shove your hands in your pockets.

“If you have to go, you-“

“-oh, no! It’s okay. I don’t have to go yet”, he interrupts. You nod. Silence spreads between the two of you. You both start speaking at the same time, then stop and laugh.

“You first”, he says.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask. This is the last place you expected to run into him.

“We were shooting a video nearby and me and Jun were just taking some photos for instagram.”

You shake your head. You never thought it was this easy to run into idols around here.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why did you just leave like that?” Ah. The time you went to his dorm. You still don’t know why he tried to stop you from leaving.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You shrug. Did he really think you were that obsessed with him?

“You would never bother me!”

“I’m just a fan.” A fan who knows to respect his privacy. A fan who is very aware of how kind he is and would never take advantage of that.

“You are?” He smiles.

You cross your arms.

“Of course I am!”

“So what are you doing here?” The abrupt change of topic takes you by surprise.

“I just wanted to buy some flowers I could plant in the garden.”

He pushes his hair back and grins. He’s like literal sunshine and you can’t help but feel warm standing this close to him. You watch his chest move with every breath he takes. Bad thoughts pop into your head and you try to stop staring.

“That sounds fun! Would you like some help?”

You tell yourself to say no, try to convince yourself that he’s only being nice. But it doesn’t work. You can’t dismiss the opportunity to spend more time with him.

You take a deep breath and look straight into his eyes.

“On one condition”, you say as you grab his hand and pull him back towards the plants.

“You let me cook you a meal to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Deal”, he says. He squeezes your hand and lets go. “How about that one?” He points at the Lilies. You nod. They’re close to blooming. Excitement bubbles in your chest as you imagine the beautiful colors that are going to fill the yard soon.

The two of you walk around and show each other all kinds of flowers. Dino grabs an abandoned cart and begins to fill it up while listening to your happy chatter.

“I had a bunch of flowers on the balcony back in Paris. We didn’t have a garden but it was fun to take care of the plants. It gave me something to look forward to every day. It made life a little less bland.” You sigh. “I wish I could have taken them with me.”

Dino flashes you a smile.

“You’re getting new ones now. It sounds like a great hobby. It seems to make you very happy.”

You make me very happy, you think. But obviously you don’t say that out loud. You just stare ahead and try, unsuccessfully,  not to blush. He’s walking right next to you and you can feel him stare. It feels surreal to have his attention focused on just you.

He clears his throat. You whip your head around and regret it immediately. He’s just too perfect. You can’t figure out what he gets out of spending time with you.

“You have other friends, right?”, you ask.

He frowns.

“What kind of a question is that?”

You shrug.

“I was just wondering why you’re here with me instead of them.”

“Ah.”

It takes him some time to answer.

“You’re new here and your mom isn’t around much. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“So you just feel bad for me?” You knew it.

He stops in his tracks and touches your shoulder.

“No.  That’s not what I’m saying.”

You shake your head and start walking again, making a beeline towards the checkout register.

“Let’s just forget about it.”

The two of you get to your house, arms loaded with bags, an hour later. You direct Dino to the first flower bed you want to tackle. Then you fetch the tools you need from the shed while Dino takes the flowers out of the bags.

You work together, mostly in silence. It feels great to feel the dirt in your hands again. Something about working with nature just makes you feel at peace, no matter what else is going on in your life.

After you’re done, you turn on the hose to spray off your hands. You realize too late that Dino has come up behind you. Faster than you thought possible, he reaches around you and grabs the hose, turning the spray right in your face. You screech and chase him, laughing,until you finally manage to corner him against the wall. He turns off the hose and holds up his hands, pleading for mercy. You just wink and grab the hose. But before you can turn it back on he tackles you and both of you fall onto the grass, a tangle of limbs. At this point you’re sure that your neighbors can hear your laughter. You want to hold onto him forever,  but before you know it he jumps up and reaches out a hand to help you get up as well.

“Thirsty?”, you ask, mostly to diffuse the tension but also because your throat is suddenly dry.

“Sure.”

You leave Dino outside to grab some drinks. When you return he’s laying on his back, eyes closed, face relaxed. You hand him his soda and sit in the grass beside him, legs crossed. You look up at the blue sky and the trees around the property swaying gently in the breeze.

“It’s a beautiful day.” Dino’s bangs fall into his eyes. You lean forwards and sweep them back, careful not to touch him too much. Before you can lean back, he grabs your hand and places it against his cheek. Your eyes widen but you don’t move. You hold your breath and time seems to stand still.

Your phone  vibrates in your back pocket. You shake yourself out of your trance and fish it out. Your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you see who has texted you.

“What’s wrong?”, Dino asks. He sits up.

You look up at him. Worry has replaced the smile on your face.

“It’s my dad”, you say,  voice shaking. “My brother is missing.”

[thechocobros]

“SEE LUNA SAFE TO ALTISSIA” - part 6

Pair: Nyx Ulric / Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Previously: For some reasons, if I insert the Ao3 link here, the post doesn’t show up in the tags. So if you want the previous chapters, just message me privately ;)

Words: 6685

Plot: Luna and Nyx didn’t fell in the Empire’s trap, Nyx didn’t had to use the ring and he survived. What would have happened if Nyx really had the chance to ‘see Luna safe to Altissia’, like he promised to Regis? Here the part 6: A ‘small inconvenience’ happens to Luna right after Ramuh’s awake and before heading to Altissia, she decides to go back home, in Tenebrae.

Personal Comment: Things are getting hot down here ;) Who can blame Luna too? And after that, all I have to add is: Dino is us, we are Dino. #DinoIsLife #ILoveDino  

For this chapter I have to credit @loveiscosmicsin a lot! Like, honestly. My characters wouldn’t be that funny without you, Kwai. 

The sheets were cool on her skin, but the rest of her body was pure fire. She felt fire in her veins, fire in her bones, fire in her head, it clouded her mind. Luna arched her back so she could reach every inch of his body and feel it on hers. He moaned in pleasure and to reward her for her initiative he used one big hand to cup her cheek and kissed her deeper, mouth open, his beard brushing on her face. Luna was overwhelmed by him, she couldn’t even breathe but didn’t complain. Her mind was empty, only consumed by the desire beyond her control.

She didn’t know how she got there. She didn’t worry for what would happen next.

She opened her palm and he automatically reached for it, entwined his fingers in hers, holding her tight. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t interrupt the kiss, only a moment to catch his breath and then continue. He smelled like wood and rain and that reminded her of something. Something that happened recently, yet she couldn’t remember. She actually couldn’t remember anything, not even who was the man who was making her feel so alive. She tried to opened her eyes but she couldn’t. Luna freed her hand, putting her arm around his neck, where she found nothing but his bare skin and a little chain. Her fingers followed the length of the necklace, reaching the pendant: the Ring of the Lucii. She grasped for air, surprised. But the man thought that was a good moment to move his mouth from her lips to her throat, peppering it with kisses. He also bit her clavicle, not hurting her but setting her even more on fire. She touched his face, trying to recognize him in shroud of the darkness over the two of them.

“Nyx?” she moaned and there was surprise in her voice.

What was happening? Why were they…? Her stomach wriggled but for some reason she didn’t even try to rebel. She let him touch her waist, her neck, her arms. Then he suddenly lowered his hand to grab her knee and put it around his hips: Luna boggled, opening her mouth and her eyes. The fire inside her bursted and the emotion got so strong she… woke up.

Luna found herself in a soft bed, covered in white sheets. Her dress was still a bit wet and dirty, and same went for her hair, which also smelled bad. Yet, she wasn’t cold, on the contrary, she was covered by so many blankets she had her face on fire. Maybe she also had caught a fever. But was it really because of the blankets? 

She was still breathing heavily and that was totally because of that dream. A dream. For Astrals’ sake, what kind of dream did she just have?

She touched her cheeks and then rested a hand on her heart: it was beating so fast it was embarrassing. She stared at a random corner of the room blankly as she tried to remember what happened the day before. She remembered the Moldacchi hills and she remembered Ramuh. After that, she fainted because she couldn’t remember anything but her dreams. But what if… those were not only dreams? She looked under the sheets, controlling if she still had her entire dress on and yes, she still wore it. But that dream felt so real…

She looked around, still nervous: where was Nyx? She swallowed hard, shivering at the idea of looking at his face again now.

She got off the bed and realized she was in a motel, probably one not very far from the place where she woke up Ramuh. She looked out of the window. It was afternoon. 

In that moment, the noise of the opening door made her turn around and holding her breath. It had to be Nyx and as a matter of fact he appeared with a plastic bag in his hand, chewing gum, and looked surprised. “Princess! You’re finally up!”

He frowned and quickly stepped ahead, studying her face searching for a sign of something. But as he got closer, Luna got further, looking at him like he was a monster. He stopped. “Are you… okay?” he asked, noticing her face burning red. 

“I’m fine,” she answered quickly, closing her fists and stepping back again.

Nyx looked confused. “Well, you slept for almost 20 hours this time and your eyes are wet like you had a nightmare. You’re obviously not fine.”

“I said I’m fine!” she raised her voice more than usual, which convinced Nyx even more she was not fine at all. 

“Okay, okay!” he raised his hands in a sign of surrender. “I brought some food, in case you’re hungry.”

“What happened?” Luna’s voice was still too nervous to be gentle.

“What do you mean what happened? You don’t remember anything?”

Luna felt her heart falling in his stomach like a 200 kg burden. 

“W-what should I remember…?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“You woke up the Ramuh and he decided to give his blessing to the prince. You made quite the show with a stunning solo-performance, too. After that, you went out like a light.”

“That I remember. What happened after?” 

Nyx shrugged, looking puzzled.“I took you here and you didn’t wake up for a while. What else should have happened?”

The reply to that question was less obvious than he could imagine, but Luna felt relieved. It seemed like the dream was just a dream afterall. Yet she didn’t understand how could it happen and that embarrassed her a lot. She literally couldn’t look at him in the eyes anymore.

“My clothes are wet, so I probably caught a cold.” 

Nyx didn’t understand her tone of accusation and asked, genuinely confused, “You wanted me take your clothes off…?”

“No!” She screamed her mortification.

“Then why are you so upset? What did I do wrong?”

She opened her mouth to answer but seeing him all puzzled, arms open and the questioning expression made her hesitate and blush even more. “I– Well, it doesn’t matter!” She said, turning away and heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to have a bath now because I’m filthy so would you be so kind and leave me alone? Thank you and have a nice day.”

Nyx raised his eyebrows in a very funny grimace like he couldn’t believe his ears. “What the …?” he laughed, incredulous. “Okay, you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I’ll disappear then.” And he left. 

Luna ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, trying to ignore her racing heart. She covered her face with the hands, cursing herself for her lack of manners. 

“What was I thinking…?” she whispered to herself. Considering the circumstances, that dream right happened at the worst moment. She watched herself at the mirror and quickly took her dress off: the veins on her stomach were glowing in black, but not in a constant way. Sometimes they got red, then black again, then totally disappeared under her skin. 

She swallowed. 

She knew that this would be happen, and yet seeing her body changing like that hurt her more than she could imagine. She felt deprived of her humanity, her sense of normalcy. She felt like … she didn’t deserved to be loved anymore now, not even by herself. Her body wasn’t even hers anymore, but just a device to be disposed of when she’s done wasting away.

Luna closed her eyes and swallowed her pride: “To save the world… To save the world.” 

Maybe repeating it like a mantra would have convinced her in the end. Saying it proved to have little effect on her state of mind. Such foolishness.

Luna cleaned herself with a meticulous care, trying to wash away the anguishing sensation of deterioration from her skin. She used half of the bottle of soap and scrubbed her arms and stomach like she never did before. She really tried to forget the pain which tormented her deeply in the soul, closing her eyes and sinking a bit in the tub. But when she did that, the image of Nyx passionately kissing her popped up in her mind and she almost drowned, much to her embarrassment.

She realized there was no safe place in her mind. Luna worried for not being able to save the world and for the shameless dream she casually had about her charming bodyguard. Her thoughts where such a mess. 

Actually, the dream particularly confused her. Where did it come from? Of course there were a lot of things she appreciated in her bodyguard’s persona, for example his funny yet protective personality, his witty eyes, his courage, his strength and also, the way he took care of her without forcing her doing something against her will. But that dream clearly showed she unconsciously was attracted by his physical appearance too, in a way she never had been with nobody. And that was something new for her, unexpected, embarrassing and somehow… Wrong. Totally wrong for so many reasons.

And not only because she was promised to another man. She just knew she wouldn’t be available for anyone very soon in any case, not even to Noctis. And she didn’t even had to start talking about an immigrant Glaive with no house or title. 

For some mysterious reason she started caressing her body exactly where Nyx touched her in the dream, starting from the face, to the neck, to her hip, her leg… It left her wondering if he would actually do that, even if he knew what she was secretly losing her humanity. She stopped when she understood he probably wouldn’t have. He would be disgusted by it. And he also would get very mad for not telling him before. 

She felt bad for even indulging on that thought. Yet, the fire that burned under her skin during the dream made her feel so alive and so real, it was hard to renounce to the memory of it. Maybe that was faulty assumption because she was kind of already sentenced to death. She didn’t belong to herself anymore. Luna couldn’t decide on her own how to use that decaying body. She decided long ago to sacrifice every bit of it for the sake of the people and there was no turning back now. 

She started brushing her skin harder, and then frantically squirted shampoo on her scalp. To change the line of her thoughts, she tried to remember the fall of Insomnia, Ravus burning after using the ring, Regis murdered in front of her very eyes. 

King Regis… He sacrificed his own humanity for the world too, which somehow gave her comfort. Noctis would have done the same pretty soon. Death marked the life of them all so deeply they couldn’t even think to enjoy life in the meantime. It was a luxury they couldn’t afford. 

She thought about what she had to do next: waking up Leviathan and forging an Alliance with her. Since the hostility of the Goddess of the Sea was well-known, the ritual would have required more energy than usual. The ritual could very well be Luna’s last.

She realized how short her time left was and even if she prepared her all life to be strong in such a critical time, she couldn’t think about anything else but home. She still wasn’t ready for Altissia. She wanted to go back to Tenabrae, even for few days.

Nyx sat at the edge of a sidewalk, drinking from his plastic cup and reading the newspaper. In the first page there was the mysterious disappearance of the Archaean from the Disc of Cauthess and all the facetious lies the Empire invented to justify it and bury the event down. In fact, he knew what was the truth: Prince Noctis infiltrated in the Disc and successfully obtained the Titan’s blessing thanks to Lunafreya. He was surprised in seeing that Ravus Nox Fleuret was interviewed for the occasion.

“So, he isn’t dead …” He mumbled to himself, remembering the moment when he used the ring and almost got killed by it. There was also a photo of him, which was interesting: it looked like the Empire wanted to make a big show about the influence of their “High Commander”, maybe to convince everybody that if a Fleuret supported them, so should have everybody. 

Nyx shook his head, disappointed. “Your sister doesn’t look like you, not even a bit.” He turned the paper, to watch the photo closer. “Well, fine, you may have the same facial features but you really don’t look alike either, you know what I mean?”

“Why are you talking with the newspaper …?” 

Nyx boggled and turn around to see the Princess standing in front of him, her arms crossed, her face uneasy. He swallowed, noticing her mood didn’t got any better.

“Yeah, well, no… Yes. It looks like your brother is still alive.” Nyx expected to give her a big news, but Luna simply bit her lip.

“I already knew that.” That was surprising. 

“Really? How?”

“Gentiana told me.”

“Oh. That lady that goes around with her eyes closed and speaks in cryptic riddles.”

“A divine messanger and also a goddess” Luna sharply corrected him.

“Yeah, that.” He gave her the newspaper. “Did you read about the Empire’s opinion about what happened to the Archaean, too?”

Luna took the paper, being very careful not touching his hand. She just couldn’t afford other dream’s flashbacks right now. She took a couple minutes to read the article and to weigh the truth beyond the evident lies. 

“So Noctis has arrived to the Disc of Cauthess …” She whispered, thinking about sending him a message via Umbra. She should have tried to summon the dog later, when she was alone. When she raised her eyes, she caught Nyx staring at her and caused her emotions to flutter beyond measure. “What?” she asked, annoyed.

“You left you hair down.” That was the stupidest answer Luna could ever get. She just didn’t braid her hair because after the shower, it was still wet. 

“So why is that worth noticing?”

Nyx wasn’t intimidated by her bad mood and just admitted, “You look better like this.”

Luna literally slammed the newspaper on his chest, as much violently as she could, causing him to flinch in silence. She walked ahead, looking outraged like he just insulted her and started tying her hair up.

Luna made clear that she wanted to leave as soon as possible. Finally realizing that he shouldn’t have even try to contradict her, Nyx packed the few things they had and prepared for leaving. He sighed deeply looking at what time it was: evening already, which meant they would have to camp somewhere soon. 

It didn’t make any sense to set off now, but here he was on the wheel, turning the car on. 

“So, where are we headed?” 

Lunafreya decided to sit in the backseat to keep the distance. “Galdin Quay.” 

“Galdin Quay? Really? Why? You want to get a tan and relax on the beach?”

Luna didn’t answer and Nyx raised his eyebrows and sighed again. “Oh, right. I can see you’re not in the mood for talking today. Guess I missed that cue.”

“Just take me there.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Nyx pulled over after two hours of driving, stopping by a dark forest.

“What’s going on?” Luna complained. 

“It’s dark, Princess, and I don’t think the road is safe anymore. I’ll take you to the closest camp site and we will wait for the morning light to come.”

“We are just some miles away from our destination!” Nyx turned towards her, resting the arm on the seat.

“I refuse to drive at night. And I refuse to allow you to behave like you suddenly can’t think rational. So please, my dear princess, now shut up and do what I say. Get out of the car.”

Luna opened her mouth to reply something but she couldn’t so she quickly get out and follow him. “You can’t talk to me like this!”

“I just did,” Nyx replied, taking out of the trunk a lot of useful stuff for camping. “Carry this.” He gave her a small baggage ignoring her scandalized expression, while he decided to carry the rest. He closed the car and headed to the closest blue light which signed the existence of a camp site.

Lunafreya was so shocked by his determination she couldn’t reply anymore and just followed him until they arrived at the camp. She hesitated. The haven was a small hill carved in stone, large enough to host a modest group of people, rocks were engraved with runes. As she recognized the symbols, she ceased further complaints immediately, instead a wave of melachony overwhelmed her.

Those safe havens were protected by white magic, gifted by the Oracle itself, but Luna wasn’t the one to credit for such a benevolent deed.

“Mother…” she whispered, turning slowly around on her feet, reading the runes like it was a private message Sylva Nox Fleuret left to her years ago. Luna’s heart ached aknowledging that her mother’s power was still coursing in those safe havens even after such a long time had passed.

“Mh? You said something?” Nyx asked, starting to prepare things for the night. Luna shook her head and said no more. She sat on a chair and observed her Glaive as as he pitched the tent and assembled the grill.

However, when Nyx finally started to prepare dinner, the dream came up to her mind again, making her forgetting about her mother and turning red. In the end, she was forced to move the chair away so she hadn’t to watch him anymore. If she wouldn’t have learned to deal with the embarrassment that the dream brought to her, she would have soon start to beg the Gods to kill her off sooner than expected. As a matter of fact, to scroll of the thought of it, she had to focus on the dark forest around, noticing just now what a beautiful night it was, warm and with the scent of sea in the air: they were clearing getting closer to the south beach. 

“Sorry for interrupting your meditation but dinner is ready, Your Highness.” Nyx said after a couple of minutes, placing a dish on a small table made in wood. Luna turned around and looked at what he prepared.

“Is that…?”

“An hamburger. Yeah. Since you never tasted one, I thought you would like to try it.” He also put a bottle of water on the table and some cookies. “Here, these ought to sweeten your mood.”

Luna’s heart ached hearing those words, realizing how much concern she was putting on him only because of her inexplicable behavior. Yet, she didn’t apologize. 

Nyx sat on the other chair, clearing his hands with a tissue. He carefully studied her reaction when she tasted the hamburger, trying to understand if she liked it or not. Luna had some troubles at first (her good manners forbidden her to touch the food with her bare hands), but as she started to eat she realized how hungry she was.

“It’s… good,” she commented, raising her eyes to watch him smile. The Princess Oracle stopped chewing for a second, impressed by the beauty of him. For Astrals’ sake, how did she never notice how much attractive he was? “Thank you.”

His braids slide back as he tilted his head and scrolled his large shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

Luna looked down, burning red. Certainly he did notice, but didn’t ask.  They ate in silence, listening to the sound of the night and smelling the fire, until Umbra came, hamming to receive Luna’s attention. 

“Umbra.” The princess stood up and approached him, taking the diary from his collar and quickly opening it at the right page.

–  I received the blessing. Thank you, Luna – 

Luna sighed in relief, smiling. Having news from Noctis in times like these was an oasis in a desolate desert. 

Nyx leaned on, resting the elbows on his knees and looking at her to read her reactions. “What did he say?” he asked, curious to see what made her so happy after a whole day of bad mood.

“Noctis received the Archaean’s blessing.”

“Good. As we read between the lines of the newspaper.”

Luna nodded. “Yes. Our efforts were not in vain.”

At first, Nyx felt a little cramp at the stomach in seeing that the prince was able to steal such a blissful smile from her with only a written phrase, but in the end, seeing her in a good mood again was more important that his slightly wounded pride.

“You’re doing a good job, Princess. I told you that before.”

“You’re doing too–!” she raised her face and found him closer than she expected, which made her almost die for an heart attack. She jumped on her feet and walked into the tent, Umbra following her from a very close distance.

“Wait!” Nyx screamed, standing up and opening his arms in frustration. “Wait, Princess, what …?” 

Stupidly enough, Luna stopped as he asked. There was absolutely no reason to not ignore him and yet, there she was, petrified at the tent’s entrance. Nyx really needed explanations now so he took advantage of the brief moment he had and asked: “Did Ramuh did something to you? Or is it because something i did? Why are you acting like that?”

“It’s nothing, you were just too close.”

“Too close?” he asked, squeezing his eyes in surprise. 

“Yes. The proximity is totally improper for us.” Now Nyx was really shocked. 

“In Insomnia I saved you multiple times making shield with my own body on yours, you healed me twice putting you forehead on mine, we slept in the same room, I carried you in my arms when you fainted and took you to the motel, and now you came out with the idea that our proximity is improper? You didn’t complain last time I checked.”

“What… No!” Luna opened her mouth to reply but now that he listed it, she had to admit they really had been so close so many times that her excuse could be considered a proper nonsense. “That was … before!”

Nyx stepped ahead, again with his arms open, to show that for him the proximity really wasn’t a problem. “Before what?”

Luna putted a hand on his chest to keep him distant, but that only got him closer. “Before the dream!” Her voice started to sound louder.

“You mean you’re being hostile over a dream?”

Luna swallowed hard without looking him in the eyes, brimming with tears. “Sir Nyx, please, don’t…”

“Oh,cut it with this Sir Nyx crap and ‘keep the distance’ order! What kind of dream could turn you against me, after all we’ve been through?”

“What if I don’t want to tell you?”

“What if you start being honest with me, Princess? Would that be too much to  ask?”

“What if it was a dirty dream about you and I really found it too embarrassing to admit?” Luna screamed in the end, blushing even more, feeling her heart beating so loud she was scared he would hear it.

Nyx froze on place, squeezed his eyes and opened his mouth in shock. “O-oh” he stuttered after 30 seconds of pure silence, interrupted only by the delicate sound of Umbra whimpering. The dog looked like the only one really at ease with the whole situation. “I see. Well, that… would explain a lot.” 

Luna wanted to cry and dig her own grave, but she didn’t realize she actually started to do it. Her eyelashes were wet with tears and a cool breeze hit her burning face.

Seeing that made Nyx feel even worse. “I think I… should sleep on the chair.” He didn’t expect anything similar and simply didn’t know how to react in such a situation. He cursed himself for pushing her to confess, he was such a jerk, as always. 

That legitimately was the most embarrassing situation he ever deal with.  Luna hid the face in her hands and turned away, entering in the tent with only Umbra, and there she stayed the whole night.

They both didn’t sleep a lot, because there was so many things to think of. They were dealing with new feelings that shouldn’t have been there in the first place, and yet they were, even if they didn’t know until that very moment. The consistency of those feelings was weird as well: they were exciting and pleasant, but also scaring and terribly inappropriate, full of hopes and totally hopeless. They both tried to ignore them and when they couldn’t, they just suffocated them under layers of sense of duty and responsibilities.

Luna woke up in the tent, realizing that Umbra slept alongside with her, maybe understanding that she couldn’t be left alone now. The Oracle found relief only when she hugged him, pulling him closer. His fur and his warm body gave her the comfort she needed, making her realize that in the end, no matter what that dream was about, it didn’t matter. Her destiny was settled, her goal was clear. 

She quickly took the diary and wrote few sentences back to Noctis.  She probably cried during her sleep, but now she felt better and her mind was clearer. 

“Here, take the message to Noctis. And please, send Pryna to Tenaebrae. I need her there,” she whispered, caressing the dog’s fur. Umbra hammed and ran out of the tent, disappearing pretty fast into the forest. Luna stood up and arranged her hair so she would look presentable. She then took a deep breath and stepped out of the tent. 

Of course, Nyx was there. He was making some push-ups but immediately stopped when he noticed her. The dark circles under his eyes showed he didn’t sleep right and the sweat on his forehead proved that he was exercising for hours already. 

They looked each other in the eyes for a long time before the Glaive slyly muttered, “… 'Morning.”

Luna nodded, but there was a strength in her eyes it wasn’t there the day before. She got closer to the small fridge they brought with them and chose a little bottle of milk and some cookies as breakfast. Nyx stood still for all the process, watching her as he caught his breath, trying to understand her mood.

“Princess…” He started, feeling uncomfortable because of that weird silence.

“I don’t want to talk about yesterday.” Luna calmly gestured at him, keeping her focus on breakfast.

Nyx nodded and tried to act normal, start preparing for departure. He disassembled the tent and the grill, packing things in the car. Thanks to haven, the operation took a lot of energy out of him so he could avoid to mess his thoughts around more than he already had. 

When he finished, he realized that he smelled gross and that he really needed to have a shower and change his clothes. “I–” He pointed to something in the distance. “I have to clean myself, so I should…” 

“Just go, Nyx,” she answered, trying to look as much detached as possible. “I won’t peek.”

Nyx noticed her coldness and was somehow annoyed by it. All that was unfair since he wasn’t the one having dirty dreams about her. Why should he have been the one to look embarrassed now?

If she could act detached, he could act sarcastic: “I just wanted to warn you since you couldn’t put a lid on those hot and heavy dreams of yours.” He said, flexed his back and shoulders.

The cup almost fell from Luna’s hands as she turned around to glance at him with outraged eyes. But Nyx was kind of satisfied by her reaction and simply walked away, smiling and raising his eyebrows.

They arrived at Galdin Quay for lunch, keeping the distance from one another, a one-sided effort on the Princess Oracle’s part. Nyx parked the car near the gas station, under a canopy and after he filled the tank, he looked at the princess getting out of the car and walking away.

“What now?” he asked, but he got no answer. He sighed, hating that day already. 

Lunafreya stepped ahead under the burning sun of this place. It was the first time she got there but it was exactly like she read in the tourist books: blue sea, white sand, palms coming out of the water, mountain hills in the distance, the wooden path which connected the beach to the restaurant. It was beautiful and relaxing and she stared at it for one minute before to move on. She knew exactly what she was looking for, but she didn’t know where to find it. 

She went for the restaurant and Nyx didn’t have other choice but follow her.  They walked under the burning sun until a waiter approached them with a cheerful: “Welcome to Galdin Quay!” 

Luna looked at him surprised by the merry atmosphere, confused by the noises of the laughters and the clients asking for drinks. Somehow, she couldn’t accept that place was such a golden oasis of peace when Crown City was destroyed just the week before.

They went onward until they reached the counter. There it was a young man, clearly trying to flirt with the nice cook with very little success. He was saying something like: “Let me love you like the 'bellissima donna’ you really are” but his accent was so weird and his style so exaggerated, that Luna found it embarrassing.

Nyx snorted into a laugh, shaking his head in sign of pity: “If I flirted with you like that in your dream, you’re right to be upset with me.” He commented in a whisper, getting close enough so only Luna could hear that.

“You did not …!” she replied in an hurry, her cheeks on fire, eyes widening.

She stopped halfway in her sentence but Nyx seemed genuinely curios and waited for her to continue: “Yes, tell me more, Princess. What exactly did we do in your 'dirty dream’?”

“…Shut up.” She tried to regain her composure but it was hard with him so close.

“I can’t really imagine what Miss Purity Of Mind And Soul can define as 'dirty’. Was there at least a kiss?” 

“Stop now.”

“Okay, so it was at least a kiss. But why are you so testy? Was it that bad?”

“Nyx, I said I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s concentrate on things that are really important.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow and murmured: “Not bad at all, right?” Nyx should have thank Shiva, Titan, Ramuh and all the other deities of Eos because Lunafreya didn’t hear him, since she was already approaching the cook, giving her a break from those terrible flirting attempts. 

“Excuse me, can I bother you for a moment?”

The woman really looked relieved and gladly listened to Luna.

“Of course! My name is Coctura, how can I help you?” 

“I’m looking for a ship to sail. Do you know to who should I talk to buy tickets?” 

“It’s not your lucky break. Since the fall of Insomnia, the travel routes have been blocked and ships won’t be sailing any time soon.”

“What if I want to go home?” 

Nyx was listening from the distance, but hearing the princess talking like that, he got closer.

“Home where?”

“I need a ride to Tenebrae.”

All of a sudden, the strange philanderer blustered in a laugh, capturing everyone’s attention.“What is the former Princess of Tenebrae looking back home when she’s supposed to meet her groom-to-be in Altissia?” he asked in a mocking tone, leaning on the counter.

“Yeah, I would like to know that, too,” Nyx said, crossing his arms in surprise. Then he realized that the weird man recognized her and suddenly boggled. “Hey! You…!”

The man introduced himself with an irreverent bow. “Name’s Dino and I’m a reporter. The lady’s too famous for not being recognized by the masses. Funny how I spotted you just like that.”

Coctura looked at Lunafreya and placed her hands on her mouth. “Lady Lunafreya!”

Luna quickly invited her to lower her voice and then nodded. “Yes, it’s me. Can you please try to not draw too much attention to us?”

Coctura was so excited she could barely whisper. “Of course, your Highness. I won’t tell a soul.”

Dino didn’t seem to have the same opinion. “I guess this is the part where you ‘fess up your intentions then. Planning on leaving Prince Noctis at the altar?”

“Why do you care?” Nyx asked, quickly defensive on the princess. Luna instinctively putted a hand on his arm, not to shut him up but at least to let him know she still had the situation under control. Nyx immediately regained his coolness. 

Dino raised his hands in the air. “Hey, relax, buddy! I know quite a few things and I can’t stop this burning curiosity of mine, you see. On that note, who are you? Let me guess. Little braids, tattoos on the face, muscled body – it looks like the Princess Oracle has picked herself up a bodyguard from Galahd. But that place almost got wiped off the map, didn’t it?”

Nyx grinned and there was nothing friendly behind it, intolerance might be the better phrase. He didn’t like that guy already and looked at Luna to understand how she wanted him to behave in that situation.

Luna shook her head. “Let him be. I trust he won’t tell the Empire about us.”

Dino didn’t miss her presumptuous glance but he didn’t miss other details either. “No, I don’t have any interest in revealing your whereabouts to the Empire. Whoever liked them anyway? But you see, in these difficult times I’m not concentrating my efforts only on journalism, and maybe that’s why I’m giving youse guys a break.”

Luna and Nyx were confused by the line of talk, not understanding what Dino was trying to say, so they both frowned and waited for him to continue. He was watching at them like a dealer examining fine pieces of art. “So, what happened between you two?” he asked in the end, joining his hands on the counter and suddenly trying to look very professional.

Luna and Nyx opened their eyes in shock and expressed their disbelief simultaneously: “What?” 

Dino chuckled and pointed at them with one finger. “Exactly what I said. I have a special eye for precious gemstones and… not just literally but metaphorically, too. And you guys, wow. What a rare beauty. What a polish.”

“Oh, for Stars’ sake…” Luna murmured, squeezing her eyes and then wide opening them. 

Nyx took the princess’s arm and tried to lead her away. “We’re wasting our time here, Princess. We better go.”

“You’re too easy! C'mon, guys, not even the struck blind and dumb can’t ignore the tension between you, I’m just calling it like I see it. But if you’re willing to tell me more, I can find you a way to Tenebrae.” This made both Luna and Nyx froze on mid-step for a lot of reasons. Dino raised his eyebrows and opened his arms. “I may be your only chance, actually.”

“You said you’re a reporter…” Luna said, narrowing her eyes.

“And a gemstones collector. And a ritzy jeweler. I also like big boats.”

“How is a jeweler supposed to find us passage to Tenebrae?”

“I told you. There are a lot of gems of different cuts and sizes. I have my ways.” Dino patted on the chair next to him. “So, Your Highness and her brawny bodyguard, have a seat and let’s chat.”

Luna and Nyx shared a worried look, they didn’t have a lot of choice. Luna sat on the chair first and Nyx couldn’t leave her alone.

Dino seemed pretty excited from the result he obtained. He took out a recorder and placed it on the table. Coctura clapped her hands and excitedly announced: “I’ll bring some refreshments.”

“Let’s start from the beginning. Did you meet in Insomnia? During the attack? And what got you to stay together?” Dino asked.

“Is that what you want? An interview? I already submitted a statement to Vyv, another journalist.”

Dino waved his hand like he wanted to chase away the thought of it. “Yeah, I heard that one. But Vyv is very different, he just wants good articles and good photos, everything very accurate and professional. I prefer gossip. The juicier, the better.”

“Then we are very sorry to disappoint you. We have nothing to say for lucative tabloids and we care that you do not publish such.”

“Publish? Who said I want to publish anything? I’m recording for my own pleasure. Mamma mia ragazzi, you didn’t listen to a word I said before, right? I’m a gemstones collector. I collect things and only occasionally sell them for the public. Real honest work here. Prince Noctis will bring me real gems to make my jewelry business soar but you… You will give me something different. Something much worth my time.”

“Prince Noctis?” Luna asked, surprised. “You met him? He was here?”

“Yeah, he was here and he’ll be back soon. Do you want to wait for him here? You could leave for Altissia together.” While Dino asked the question, Nyx was curious about the answer in the same way. He actually wondered multiple times why the princess didn’t want to look for the prince, instead of going on her own separate journey to wake up the Six. 

“No, we were promised to meet in Altissia.”

“Yet you’re going to Tenebrae,” Dino insinuated. “Runnaway bride, much?”

“Only for a short while. I want to see my home again, once more before… everything will happen in Altissia. I may not get another chance.”

Dino frowned and looked at Nyx, in a very sad way. “Your last piece of journey alone.”

“Excuse me?” Nyx growled.

“You know what, guys? The Princess and the Guardian has always been one of my favorite tropes. I mean, I’m sorry for Prince Noctis but now that I see you in person I–”

“Listen, can you really guarantee us a ride to Tenebrae or not?” Nyx was really starting to get annoyed and his face showed it entirely.

Dino sighed and made a grimace, taking out from his jacket a cell phone and showing it to them. “I only have to make one call” he answered, pushing the green button and actually making that 'one call’.

After that, he explained them that a ship would have come from Tenebrae the next day, transporting goods and stuff. Since all the trades were closed by the Empire, that ship may or not may be legal but at least that would have permit them to go to Tenebrae unnoticed. 

“You want us to sail on a pirate ship?” Luna asked, stunned.

“Oh no. You want to go to Tenebrae and I said that the only way is through a pirate ship. So now that I assured you a safe travel to your homeland, can we continue the interview or not?”

But Luna smiled in a mischievous yet detached way, something that nobody would have ever think she was actually capable of doing. “Well… No.”

Dino shrugged. “I’ll have to report your presence to the Empire then.”

“Of course, I invite you to try. But as you know, my brother has been proclaimed High Commander recently, I’m certain he will help us out somehow. Instead I wonder who will release you out of prison if I confess your involvement in illegal trades with pirates and almost placed me, the Oracle of Eos, in great peril.”

Dino froze and almost didn’t notice when Coctura came back with the cocktails.

“Here, Lady Lunafreya, hope you’ll like it!” 

Luna and Dino were still watching themselves in the eyes, one strong and satisfied, the other shocked.

After a moment, Dino took a glass and raised it, looking at Nyx and bursting into laughter: ���Good luck with this smart-mouthed royalty, buddy. You’re gonna need it.”

[bibliosexxual]

little spoon

To save money while attending college in NYC, Stiles and Derek decide to rent one tiny apartment together. With one bed.

*whispers* I have no idea if any of this is realistic. Don’t judge me.

You guys know by now that practically everything I write is so so fluffy, but this is just like, a whole other level. A little over 4k words of enemies-to-lovers, bed-sharing, & cuddling. ;)  

on ao3

*

The thing is, Stiles is pretty sure he can't afford to breathe the air in New York City, let alone rent an apartment there. But it's also been his lifelong dream to go to NYU, same as his mom, and he’s just gotten his acceptance letter in the mail along with a hefty scholarship offer. So he has a bit of a conundrum on his hands.

Enter Derek, who has a (relatively) dirt cheap apartment in Queens.

Okay, so Derek calls it an "apartment." Stiles calls it an "attic closet."

It's nothing but a narrow bed, a foot or so of walking space between that and the wall, and a lone shelf by the door to hold the microwave and all of Derek's possessions that can't fit under the bed. There's not even enough room to open the door all the way; the edge of the door hits the edge of the bed, and then you have to shimmy into the room.

The sad thing is that Stiles can't even afford that.

He can, however, afford half of it.

"So you're going to share a bed," Scott says, looking concerned.

"Yes," Stiles says.

"No," Derek says at the same time.

Scott looks more concerned.

Stiles sighs. "Okay, so it's like this. Derek's going to be doing the whole normal person schedule, up at the buttcrack of dawn" (Derek rolls his eyes) "and out working and studying and stuff all day and back in bed asleep by 11 pm, and I'm going to be taking all evening classes and working the night shift!"

"We won't actually ever be in the same place at the same time," Derek clarifies. “He gets it during the day; I get it at night.”

"Because we can't stand each other," Stiles adds, in case Scott is thinking of getting his hopes up that this whole roommates thing is going to be some kind of bromance.

(Scott has always doggedly hoped that someday his best friend and his brother would stop hating each other, or at least stop finding each other intolerable and annoying. If it were anyone but Scott, Stiles would laugh in their face. As it is, he tones it down to a skeptical eyebrow raise.)

“It just makes sense, economically,” Stiles goes on. “Derek’s not even using his room half the time, so now, instead of letting it sit there empty and go to waste, he can make money from it by letting me have it. It’s logic, pure and simple. We’re gonna save so much money.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott says.

Whatever. Their plan is foolproof. Stiles made charts and schedules and everything. At most, there'll be a few minutes of overlap in their schedules. Easy. Nothing could go wrong.

*

Week One goes swimmingly.

Granted, there are a few hiccups, like the fact that Stiles never realized from the photos Derek sent that the ceiling was so low he physically wouldn’t be able to stand up straight in the room, but the whole occupying-the-room-at-different-times thing? That goes off without a hitch.

Every morning, Stiles gets home from work and kicks Derek out of bed. Derek makes protesting noises while Stiles pokes him (or, rather, pokes the lump of his body under the covers) with his bare foot. Eventually Derek crawls out, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs because it’s kind of hot in here and they don’t have AC. Then he squeezes past Stiles to stomp down the hall to their tiny bathroom, and Stiles determinedly looks elsewhere because getting a boner over a glimpse of Derek’s flexing thigh muscles is something he would never live down.

Stiles sets about tossing Derek’s pillow on the floor and replacing it with his own, because he’s very particular about pillows, and then he wiggles around a lot and sighs and reads ebooks on his phone until Derek leaves. Sometimes he buries his nose in the sheets for a while, too. They still smell like Derek, and Derek smells good, like pine trees and manliness. (What? He can think Derek smells good and still hate him. He has depths.)

After reading a while, he’ll have calmed his brain down enough to fall asleep.

His alarm goes off at 4 pm, which gives him plenty of time to get ready for the day, grab a coffee, and get to his first class without ever seeing Derek, who won’t get back to their room until 5 pm at the earliest.

It’s the perfect living arrangement, and Stiles is a genius for thinking of it.

*

Week Two starts with Stiles' boss asking him to switch to the morning shift, and Stiles begging him to please not do this to him, and his boss utterly failing to yield to said begging.

“Beg some more,” Derek says, completely unsympathetic, when Stiles tentatively reports this news to him the next morning.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Stiles says. It’s too late to go back now anyway. Stiles has decided the best way to switch his body clock back to normal is to not sleep at all today so that he’ll fall asleep instantly tonight. To that end, he’s just finished drinking a mug of coffee the size of his head. Now he’s so saturated with caffeine that he’s pretty sure he’s vibrating. His normal day-sleeping is definitely not happening right now.

“You’re going to have to live somewhere else, then,” Derek says.

Stiles makes a show of checking his empty pockets. “Oh sure, let me just go get all my huge piles of cash that I keep lying around and I’ll get right on that. And in the meantime, I just won’t sleep at all—”

Derek makes a face and tugs the covers up to his chin. “Fine, I won’t kick you out. But you’re not sleeping with me tonight.”

“Look, it’s not like I wanted this to happen, but… I pay half the rent, so I get half the bed. Them’s the rules.”

Derek makes another face.

Stiles pulls out the big guns. “If you don’t let me in that bed tonight, I’m calling Scott, and he’s going to give you the sad puppy eyes over skype, and you’re going to feel like a terrible human being and then you’re going to give me half the bed like you owe me.”

“Fine,” Derek growls. He throws his pillow at Stiles’ face. “But don’t touch me. You stay on your half of the bed.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “With pleasure.”

*

It starts out as disastrously as one might expect.

Derek throws off heat like a furnace, but he complains when Stiles hogs the covers. Then he complains when Stiles gets too hot and kicks off the covers so they pile up on Derek. Stiles can’t win.

Also, it takes Stiles a while to find the perfect sleeping position, and Derek complains every single time Stiles moves because it always means he accidentally brushes Derek’s arm or leg or torso. It’s not like Stiles is trying to touch him—because even if he does think Derek is objectively pretty okay-looking, he’s still Derek—but it’s physically impossible to get any farther away from Derek without falling off the bed. Stiles is already balanced on the very edge, and Derek has already wedged himself up against the wall, and there’s still no space between them.

It takes them both ages to fall asleep like that, and in the morning Stiles wakes up to find that in his sleep he’s rolled over onto the floor, twisted up into a cocoon in all the blankets. He has a sneaking suspicion from the bruise throbbing on his lower back that someone kicked him off the bed in his sleep. Derek, meanwhile, is starfished out on his stomach, comfortably taking up the entire mattress.

The second night goes slightly better, but only because they’re both so exhausted from last night that they both fall asleep practically instantly. The good news is that Stiles doesn’t fall off (or get kicked off) the bed again. The bad news is that he wakes up to pins and needles in his left arm because Derek is crushing it between his chest and the mattress in his sleep. It takes all Stiles’ strength to wiggle free, and then he does fall on the floor.

The third night, Stiles has one of those fueled-by-sleep-deprivation ideas. “Look, we’re both vaguely triangle-shaped, yeah? Because we’re both broad-shouldered dudes. So it’s stupid to try to fit two triangles facing the same way into a rectangular area. How about I stay up here and you move so your head is at the foot of the bed and then we’ll both fit and you won’t fall asleep on my arm again?”

Derek says he’s not going to spend the whole night with Stiles’ stinky feet in his face.

Stiles says his feet are not stinky, thank you very much. He has amazing hygiene.

Just to drive the point home, he rubs the sole of his bare foot on the back of Derek’s calf. Derek hits him with his pillow. Stiles hits him back with his pillow. Things devolve from there.

Stiles is pretty sure the only reason they fall asleep after that is that they've worn themselves out from arguing about feet, and that's not exactly a sustainable plan for successful bed-sharing.

*

"Have you tried building a pillow wall?" Scott suggests when they skype next.

"I don't think there's room for that," Stiles says, stifling a yawn in his sleeve. A good night’s sleep is but a distant memory at this point. "Also, we don't have enough pillows."

It does give him an idea, though. Maybe a crazy idea, but... it could work. It's worth a try, anyway.

When Stiles was little, he always slept with this one pillow his mom gave him. It was bright green and shaped like a dinosaur. He couldn't go to sleep unless he was hugging it. He didn't outgrow the habit until he was in middle school and lost Dino on an overnight class trip to Disneyland.

Maybe what he really needs now for a good night's sleep is to hug Derek.

No... cuddle Derek. Spoon him.

They obviously can't keep trying to share a single bed that’s barely big enough for one grown man, let alone two, and keep to a no-touching rule at the same time. It's just not working. So maybe the solution is to un-taboo the touching thing. Embrace the touching.

He thinks Derek would be a good cuddler, what with all the body heat he throws off, and all the muscles. Stiles wonders if well-muscled people are nice to lie on. He thinks the answer is probably yes.

And maybe Derek needs it, too. He's always been a tactile kind of guy, from what Stiles has seen. He still remembers when they were little kids, really little, and Derek's mom used to call Derek "the hug monster." He was always going around hugging everybody, and at nap time he always wanted to hold Stiles’ hand.

That was before Derek grew up and became such a grump, obviously.

Maybe, Stiles thinks, Derek would be a little less of a grump if he got to cuddle someone every once in a while.

*

That night, Stiles waits until Derek has climbed under the covers and then scoots close. Derek's on his side, so Stiles is left facing what little he can see of Derek's bare back in the dim light: his muscular shoulders, held stiff with tension, and a hint of the dark, thick lines that form the triskelion tattoo between his shoulder blades. It's an appealing, if distinctly unfriendly, view.

"Hey, Derek," he tries in his friendliest tone, the kind he normally never uses around Derek, not after a lifetime of mutual antagonism.

Derek grunts and tenses up even more but otherwise doesn't respond.

Stiles isn't entirely sure how to put his idea into words, at least not without getting his head bitten off for it. He's tempted to just throw an arm around Derek's waist and see what happens. On the other hand, he doesn't have a death wish.

He also kind of has to wonder about the ethics of initiating cuddling with someone without getting their consent first. Spooning isn't kissing or sex, nothing that invasive, but... Stiles could see it probably falling into that same general category of ask-before-touching. He doesn't want to be creepy. He thinks it's something Derek will like, if he can just get over the fact that it's Stiles, but... but that's a big if.

So instead, he taps Derek on the shoulder and says, "I think we should spoon."

"Not funny," Derek says. He sounds bone-tired. "Go to sleep, Stiles."

"That's what I'm saying," Stiles persists. "Seriously. We should spoon so we can go to sleep."

“Remember when I said that thing about you staying over there and me staying over here? Because I do.”

“But—”

"If you don't like the way things are now, you can go sleep on the floor."

Stiles lets out a groan of frustration. “Listen, I really think it could work, okay? It’d probably be relaxing for both of us, and we wouldn’t be fighting over the same tiny bit of space on the bed anymore, and, I dunno, you could even imagine I’m a hot girl if you want, I don’t care—”

“No,” Derek growls. “Not happening.”

So that’s that. Stiles lies on his back and chews on the inside of his cheek, annoyed.

The night that follows is the worst yet. Stiles sleeps fitfully. He keeps waking up to find he’s too cold because Derek’s stolen the covers, or his neck’s at a weird angle because his pillow has gotten wedged up under Derek’s shoulder, or he’s half on the bed and half on the floor because Derek’s decided in his sleep that he’s going to lie diagonally across the bed now.

When morning comes, Derek looks like he’s fared no better than Stiles. There’s something quietly haggard about him, something defeated in the weary slump of his shoulders as he trudges off to the bathroom. It’s so close to mirroring how Stiles feels that he can’t even work up the I-told-you-so smugness he’s expecting.

That night, Derek sighs and puts a hand on Stiles’ arm as they’re climbing into bed. Stiles raises his eyebrows, because voluntary touching, that’s new. Especially voluntary gentle touching.

"We can try it," Derek says grudgingly. "The spooning thing."

Stiles grins. “You’re gonna love it, man.”

His good mood lasts until about two seconds later, when they actually get in the bed and there’s an awkward shuffle as Derek goes to put his arm around Stiles at the same time that Stiles goes to put his arm around Derek.

“What are you doing?” Stiles demands, wiggling away.

Derek furrows his eyebrows. “Uh, spooning you?”

“But I’m the big spoon,” Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That was the deal.”

“You never said that.” Derek crosses his arms, too, apparently settling in for a long debate. “Who says you get to be the big spoon?”

“I do, because it was my idea.”

“But I’m clearly… I mean, you’re so…”

Stiles rolls his eyes. It’s kind of sad that he’s known Derek long enough that he can usually guess what he means just from a few sentence fragments and glary eyebrows. “Wow, okay. Way to stereotype here. Let’s get one thing clear: just because I’m a little skinnier than you are doesn’t mean I can’t be the big spoon. I can totally big-spoon the shit out of you if I want to.”

“I’m not going to be the little spoon,” Derek insists, stubbornly, flexing his arm muscles a little.

“What’s wrong with being the little spoon? You get to feel all hugged and snuggly and cared-for.”

“If you like it so much, why don’t you be the little spoon?”

“Because I want to be the big spoon!”

“Well, so do I,” Derek says, final, like that settles everything.

Stiles thinks about this for a minute. He really wants this spooning thing to work. Maybe a little compromise is in order. “How about we switch it around? Tonight I’ll be the big spoon and then tomorrow night it’ll be your turn.”

“Why do you get to go first?”

“God,” Stiles says, “I didn’t realize I was dealing with a literal child here.”

“That’s not what ‘literal’ means,” Derek says, probably just to be petty.

“I’m a pre-law major, stupid. I know what ‘literal’ means.”

Derek ignores that. “We should flip for it. Heads, I get to be big spoon tonight. Tails, you get it.”

“Finally, a reasonable proposition,” Stiles says, and rolls out of bed to go find a coin.

It’s tails. Stiles grins smugly. Derek huffs and shifts over onto his side so Stiles can spoon him.

At first Derek is a stiff line all along Stiles’ front. Stiles mutters, “C’mon, work with me here, dude,” reproachful, and Derek just stiffens up further. It’s like trying to cuddle a mannequin or a wooden board, and Stiles thinks with a swell of disappointment that this isn’t going to work after all and they’re doomed to spend the rest of the semester in a mutual sleep-deprived daze.

Then. Then Stiles starts rubbing his thumb over Derek's breastbone in slow repetitive circles, soothing, and the mood between them thaws. Derek relaxes into Stiles’ hold. The air goes out of his lungs in one long, quietly pleased sigh, and he presses back minutely into the curve of Stiles' body. Win.

Stiles doesn't remember what happens after that. The next thing he knows, there's morning sun on his face, making the insides of his eyelids glow a dull red, and he's waking up still nestled lazily around the pliant, supple warmth of Derek’s body.

Stiles takes stock of things. Derek is fast asleep, face burrowed contentedly into his pillow. No one has kicked anyone else off the bed in their sleep or stolen any covers or pinned anyone else's arm under their body in an uncomfortable position. In fact, Stiles is completely comfortable, and well-rested, and fairly sure they've just solved their bed-sharing problem.

*

So the spooning is… not terrible.

Secretly, Stiles even starts looking forward to it.

Derek is still kind of an ass to him outside of bed, or at least he's just as willing as ever to call Stiles a slob for leaving a little toothpaste in the sink or forgetting to fold his socks, but once they're under the covers, it's like a truce has been called.

Stiles likes the moment when he first gets in bed and he presses his feet against Derek’s warm calves, and Derek hisses, “Jesus, your feet are like ice,” but doesn’t pull away. He likes the way they usually talk a little as they fall asleep, Derek’s voice low and soft in his ear, and he likes that they can let their guard down a little, finally, their snark and sarcasm mellowing to something almost affectionate in the dark, when they aren’t looking at each other.

He loves it when Derek spoons him, when Derek clasps their hands together against Stiles’ stomach, their legs tangling under the covers, Derek blanketing him protectively with his body. He loves how grounded he feels, how anchored. And Stiles loves spooning Derek in return. He loves resting his forehead against the nape of Derek’s neck; he loves the clean smell of Derek’s hair; he loves the way Derek starts relaxing as soon as Stiles is touching him.

He loves having someone to hold, and it’s not even that terrible, really, that that someone is Derek.

*

One afternoon Stiles mentions his friend Lydia from Philosophy of Law. She was saying today that she might know of a place nearer to campus he could rent, if he wanted. It wouldn’t be quite as cheap as this, but he’d have his own room, his own bed at least... He’s watching Derek’s face as he talks, weirdly dreading that Derek’s going to look relieved and trying to think how he could possibly admit he likes having Derek as a roommate more than he likes having his own bed in a way that won’t scare Derek off.

Derek doesn’t look relieved. He looks wary, and then irritated, and then outright pissed, and then he’s snapping at Stiles out of nowhere about something minor and stupid that Stiles never thought bothered him before, and it just keeps escalating, and it’s not like their usual arguments, which are almost fun, playful. Stiles doesn’t want to admit it, but this time it actually hurts when Derek calls him an annoying pain in the ass. He can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and it’s mortifying.

He’d started to think, with the whole spooning thing, that they were finally getting somewhere, but no. Apparently Derek hates him just as much as ever.

That very same evening, Stiles buys a plane ticket and calls in a couple vacation days at work. It’s been months since he’s seen his dad, anyway. He could stand to take a long weekend and go home. So he does.

*

It feels like a good idea, all of it—getting to hug his dad and Scott all he wants and drive his Jeep around town again and eat food other than ramen and sprawl out in his nice, large, unoccupied bed while pretending Derek doesn’t exist. It’s a vacation he didn’t know he needed.

At least, until it’s the middle of the night and Stiles has been trying and failing to fall asleep for hours.

Everything is all wrong. First he’s too chilly, and then he’s too hot under the extra covers he hauls down from the closet. Then he doesn’t have enough pillows, but when he gets more, his head is angled too high and he has to throw some back on the floor. And through it all, his mattress is too squishy and there’s this restless feeling buzzing under his skin and he keeps getting the urge to check his phone even though he knows Derek hasn’t texted him at all.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, Stiles comes to a terrible, inexplicable realization:

Derek’s shitty bed has ruined him for all other beds.

Fuck.

Then there comes an even worse thought, a few minutes later: that maybe it’s not the bed that’s the problem at all.

What the fuck is Stiles even supposed to do with a thought like that?

He only manages to fall into a light doze by hugging a pillow to his chest and wrapping himself tight in the blankets. That way he has something to hold and the bed doesn’t feel quite so big. Still, it’s not the same at all.

*

When he gets back to New York late Monday night, Derek is waiting for him in the room, sitting on the bed in a t-shirt and pj pants with his knees hugged to his chest. He has dark circles under his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, but they both groan a little in relief the instant Stiles curls up around him under the covers.

“Sorry,” Derek murmurs, gently stroking the back of Stiles’ hand with his thumb, right before they fall asleep.

Stiles holds him a little closer. “Me too.”

That night Stiles sleeps like the dead. It’s awesome.

*

“Why don’t we like each other?” Stiles asks the next morning.

“Habit, I guess,” Derek says, voice muffled where his face is pressed between Stiles’ shoulder blades. They’d switched positions sometime last night in their sleep. Stiles has no complaints.

Derek nuzzles in a little at Stiles’ spine and adds, “You used to be such a little shit.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, grinning at the memories, and at the fondness in Derek’s tone. “And you always acted so stuck-up and superior, even though you’re only two years older than me and Scott.”

“But mentally at least five years older,” Derek says wryly.

Stiles makes a face, even though Derek can’t see him. “Debatable.”

He shifts around a little, ignoring Derek’s cute little growl of protest at the jostling, until they’re facing each other under the covers. Derek’s hair is messy and soft-looking and Stiles just wants to run his fingers through it, so he does, snorting to himself when he can’t get it to behave even a little bit. He loves how happy and relaxed Derek looks like this, his skin almost glowing with the sunlight filtering through the sheets.

Stiles takes a risk and whispers, “I missed you this weekend.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek slides his hand around from Stiles’ waist to his hip, fingertips ghosting over the skin where his shirt is riding up, and Stiles shivers a little. “I thought you were mad at me this weekend.”

“Oh, I was,” Stiles nods. “But I missed you, too.” He gestures vaguely between them. “I missed this.”

Derek looks at him for a long, quiet moment. In this light, his irises are an impossible luminous green flecked with amber and gold and grey. Stiles feels kind of weird for staring so long, but it’s not like Derek isn’t staring back. His eyes trail down Stiles’ face, lingering on his mouth, and then he leans forward and nuzzles in at Stiles’ throat, tentative. When Stiles doesn’t do anything except keep petting his hair, Derek nudges in a little closer, his thigh slotting in between Stiles’, and continues up along his neck to his jaw, stubble scraping Stiles’ skin. He presses a kiss there at the hinge of Stiles’ jaw, feather-light, and then another, closer to his mouth.

“Fuck, can you please just kiss me,” Stiles blurts, and Derek huffs out a laugh and does.

Stiles can admit he’s had thoughts, mostly in the shower, about what it might be like to kiss Derek, because how could he not. He’d always imagined it would be biting and angry, Stiles hitting a nerve and Derek shoving him up against something and just taking. The kind of kiss that would leave bruises.

This, though, this is so much better, because Stiles never imagined Derek could be sweet, could take his time taking Stiles apart, long luxurious minutes of melting everything in him to warm honey and leaving him aching with it in the best way.

“Nng,” is about all Stiles can say when Derek finally pulls back.

Derek looks smug.

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles groans, trying and failing to fight back a smile. He defies anyone not to look at least a little goofy after a kiss like that.

“I missed you, too,” Derek admits.

“I kind of figured.”

“I was scared you were going to move out.”

“Nope.” Stiles pulls him a little closer. “I’m staying right here. You can’t get rid of me.”

“Good,” Derek says, satisfied, and leans back in to kiss him again.

They don’t get out of bed for a long, long time.

(end)

EDIT: sequel

[xcrisscrossx]

Happy Anniversary

“Alright there, Rosie. Alright, now just sit tight, Sherlock’s getting your food now,” John hushed soothingly. Sherlock marveled at the way John could maintain his adult tone while still sounding so… fatherly.

“Okay Rosie, you’ve got two options; pureed veggie root or pulverized seed-pod extract.” John gave Sherlock an odd look. “Carrot or Pea baby food.” John rolled his eyes with a smile, taking the carrot jar—Rosie’s favorite, meaning the one she made less of a mess with—and uncapped it. “The books say she needs to start eating more solid foods,” Sherlock observed, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the menu in front of him.

“She had her little crackers and some banana slices for breakfast this morning. I only packed these because they’re more convenient and I figured they wouldn’t have anything suitable for her here, even on the kids menu.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I think she’d enjoy some dino shaped nuggets, wouldn’t you darling?” Sherlock cooed to the toddler.

“Ah boys, so good to see you two again,” Angelo greeted warmly, reaching out and wrapping one large arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. John smiled lightly at how shy Sherlock always got with physical contact from others, apparent from the tightlipped yet genuine smile. “And who’s this little beauty?” Angelo said, smiling at Rosie who sat in a wooden highchair that sat on the bench between Sherlock and John. The new one year old was too business happily laughing and babbling, looking all around her in interest rather than at her father who was fruitlessly trying to spoon feed her some of the baby food. Rosie spotted Angelo looking at her, reaching out with one hand proudly, a large gummy smile with two small bottom teeth poking out.

“Rosie Watson,” Sherlock introduced, sending a fond smile at the giggling baby. “Newest edition. Infants aren’t much fond of social gatherings and gift cards, although they surprisingly enjoy cake and balloons.” John smiled at the memory this morning of Mrs. Hudson bringing up a small vanilla cake with a single pink candle in the middle, and Rosie sticking her stubby hands inside, taking large fistfuls and shoving them into her mouth. “So we brought her out for dinner. Classic birthday celebration, especially this being the first.”

“Ah, very special evening indeed!” Angelo exclaimed, throwing out his hands. “All on the house then gentlemen, whatever you like, for the new Holmes family!”

John smiled but then paused, blinking before throwing out a hand, “Oh, no no, no, we’re still not a—”

“I’ll come around with a bottle, and a juice for the little one then?” Sherlock nodded and Angelo was gone as quickly as he’d come. John sighed, sending a look to Sherlock. Sherlock looked back, eyebrows rising innocently. “What?”

“Why do you never correct them?”

“Correct who? About what?”

“Oh!” an elderly woman exclaimed, having just entered the restaurant. She spotted Rosie, waving sweetly. Rosie squealed in delight. “So nice to see two fathers out with such an angel, good on the two of you.”

“Oh no, we aren’t—” John tried but the woman merely chuckled good-heartedly and shuffled off to find a place to sit. John’s eyes darted to Sherlock’s, making an exasperated gesture. “That!”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, its doesn’t exactly work on you Mr. I’m-smarter-than-all-of-mankind. People always mistake us for…for well, you know.” Sherlock arched an eyebrow. John huffed in annoyance, looking down at the table. His eyes moved back up. “You’re the most observant man in England and you’re telling me you never catch on that people mistake us for a couple?”

“Do they really?” Sherlock asked as though that was the most surprising thing he’d ever heard, though apparently not caring enough to look away from the menu he was currently browsing.

“Yes, actually! All the time. And you never say anything, never correct them. Ever.”

“Why bother, when people are going to make their own assumptions anyway apparently, since you’re always fruitlessly attempting to set the record straight,” Sherlock explained lightly. “We know what our relationship is behind closed doors and it doesn’t involve us sharing a bed despite what others may think.”

John coughed into his fist, his eyes bouncing anywhere but Sherlock, a tell-tale sigh of distress and discomfort with the conversation. Sherlock arched an eyebrow just as Angelo appeared again with a bottle of red wine and a small plastic bottle of orange juice. “Thank you,” John said, taking the juice. He searched for a sippy cup in the baby bag he brought along, listening as Sherlock ordered them food. He didn’t comment on the fact that Sherlock knew John’s food choice.

John distracted himself with feeding Rosie whom, after some playful cooing and encouragements from daddy, happily opened her mouth for the carrot mush. She made a face, squeezing her eyes and shaking her head. “I know darling, I know, it’s not cake or your animal crackers but just finish the jar.” Rosie continued shaking her head, Sherlock coming to the rescue by making silly faces, making Rosie laugh so John could feed her. Rosie finished half the jar before she vehemently shook her head, pushing the spoon away with babbled protests as Angelo eventually returned with their food. “Alright, you’re lucky this time missy,” John admonished with a smile, giving her the sippy cup with juice.

John looked at his plate just as Angelo lit the candle that most definitely wasn’t there before. John looked to Sherlock expectantly but Sherlock had a fist in front of his mouth, poorly concealing his smile. Sherlock laughed at John’s look, shrugging and grabbing the wine bottle, pouring a generous amount for himself and John.

John sighed and took up his glass. Sherlock raised his, John eventually following. “To Rosie,” Sherlock announced, gazing at the infant heartily drinking her juice. “Happy Birthday darling, here’s to many more.”

“Cheers,” John said with a smile, nuzzling Rosie playfully before taking a sip of the oaky drink. It warmed his stomach, the smell of the food pleasant, allowing him to relax into his seat. He looked at Rosie, a happy normal beautiful baby, the most important people in his whole world. He looked across the table, guilt briefly tainting his pleasant mood as he thought of Mary, who should be here enjoying her daughter’s first birthday, but also guilty because seeing Sherlock across from him, with his dark curls still ruffled from the wind outside, his black suit jacket opened, actually eating a decent meal for once, made John happy in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Sherlock noticed John staring, so John looked down and began eating, starting conversation about the last case they recently accomplished and what he should name it for the blog.

…

“Come now Rosie, be a good girl. I know you’re exhausted, you’ve had a busy day.”

“No…no no…” Rosie mumbled along with some more nonsensical noises that John roughly translated to I don’t want to go to sleep and you’ll never make me!

John sighed, bouncing on the balls of his socked feet with his fussy child in his arms. Rosie rubbed at her face tiredly, struggling against the sleep that was obviously taking hold of her. “Come now, darling. Sleep for daddy.” John placed Rosie in her bed, grabbing her stuffed elephant for her to cuddle but she wasn’t having it today.

“She still fighting it?” Sherlock asked from  the doorway. John turned to see he was in his pajamas already, loose tshirt and gray sweatpants. His feet were bare. Seeing Sherlock this casual still gave John pause, something vulnerable in the bared forearms, something small in the bagginess of the clothes…

“Um, yeah,” John said, shaking his head as he looked back to his daughter. “The birthday girl wants to celebrate until the last second apparently.” John sighed, pulling the soft blanket over the child who merely kicked weakly. “Maybe if you played for her or something, that always used to put her right to sleep when she was smaller.”

“No, not tonight,” Sherlock mused, his voice the same one he got on a case when pieces were falling into place. “I think tonight, Rosie needs something different. Something special.” Sherlock stepped into the carpeted room, standing beside John beside the bed to look down at Rosie. “Would you like a story tonight, Rosie?”

Rosie looked up at Sherlock, a small smile on her round face.

“Right then, good idea,” John said, stepping away to go grab one of the children’s books sitting on the nightstand by the door. He was stopped by Sherlock lightly grabbing his wrist.

“Ah ah, this isn’t going to be a story from a book,” Sherlock said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked to John. Sherlock looked back to Rosie. “This is a story I’m sure we’ll tell you again Rosie, over and over as you get older, adding more details and information. For now, we’ll keep it simple.” John looked at Sherlock, a wrinkle in his brow as he tried to figure out what this man was planning. “This, Rosie, is the story of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.

“An army doctor, back home in London, struggling, injured, alone. Looking for a place to stay. And, as fate had it, another man was going through similar struggles, alone, looking for someone to fill the empty room in his flat, and the empty hole in his life.” John stared at Sherlock, at first in amusement, but then wonder. Sherlock’s voice, that soothing baritone that had instilled in John every conceivable emotion—irritation, fear, hope, happiness, inspiration, amazement, affection—now entranced him in the tale of their lives, of their meeting.

“John Watson was promptly introduced to Sherlock Holmes via a mutual acquaintance. Sherlock, with a few mild observations, managed to impress the doctor so thoroughly that he couldn’t contain his verbal amazement and immediately agreed to moving in—”

“Lets not make me sound like some star-struck fool.”

“Well, not a fool, but from how I remember it you did seem a bit—”

“Sherlock.”

“Anyway, despite the doctor’s mental handicap and denial of his need for—”

“Ahem.”

“—Sherlock Holmes saw the potential in him. He saw something inside the doctor—a genuine care, heart and understanding of information and people that Sherlock Holmes never wanted to admit he was lacking. So he invited John Watson to work with him. They examined a corpse—”

“Maybe not the best subject for my infant daughter—”

“She’s barely going to remember any of this and it’s not like I got into the murder, or the blood under her nails or—” With a pointed look from John, Sherlock continued on. “They ran around the city, and staked out a restaurant called Angelo’s. Sherlock Holmes eventually caught the monster criminal, and John Watson saved Sherlock’s life. It was the beginning of something…extraordinary. On that day, January 29th, history was made and the two men’s lives were forever changed, irrevocably intertwined.”

John started slightly. January 29th ;that was today. It couldn’t really have been…but Sherlock’s memory was impeccable. When Sherlock found information important, he never forgot it. John looked to Sherlock in wonder for a moment, his expression soft. Sherlock was looking down at Rosie. John noticed she had finally fallen asleep. He brought the blanket to her chin, making sure she was tucked in and comfortable before gently kissing her forehead.

“Happy anniversary John,” Sherlock said softly, putting his hand on John’s back. His palm was warm through John’s shirt. Everything was warm and soft, a kind of peace in the room that John Watson at one point in his life never thought he would feel.

He looked up at Sherlock, who stood close beside him, hand still hesitant on him. John smiled slightly, shaking his head. “And you call me a romantic,” he accused quietly. Sherlock smiled, unable to deny the accusation. Sherlock leaned down, soft lips pressing to John’s temple. “Oh come here,” John muttered, putting a hand behind Sherlock’s neck and guiding him downward, kissing his mouth softly, slowly, lips warm and welcoming, relief spreading through them both as they held each other, seven years finally melting together as they realized what should have been obvious that first night at Angelo’s on January 29th, 2010.

...

A short, cute little thing for their anniversary. I wrote it up quick today to make sure I actually got it out on the 29th. Despite much disappointment this month, I still love this fandom and this show. I still love these boys and believe in the love the show constructed for them. I believe they eventually find happiness in each other, and spend every anniversary happy together as a family in 221B Baker Street.

Thank you to everyone