#office furniture cubes removal

[mendeshoney]

this close isn't close enough

a/n: happy thirsty thurday fellow harlots ^_^

this is a small little part 3 ish/sequel to take me back to eden (you can find part one here and part two here) that just popped into my head and i figured i'd jot it down for you all to enjoy. it does discuss wanting and trying for a child, so if that's not something you're comfortable with, this may not be for you, so read with caution. this is for @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech because without them this fictional andrei wouldn't exist! title is from "melt" by kehlani

warnings/tags: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, slice of married life, baby fever, fluff, lots of smut, shower sex, hotel sex (semi-public, against the window), oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation

word count: 12,163

“Almaznyy?” Andrei calls out, removing his reading glasses with one hand as he shuts his laptop with the other, then rubs the bridge of his nose.

He counts to ten in his head, waiting for your response, but it doesn’t come. The soft and familiar whrrrrr of a machine echoes back at him instead, and he sighs, a small smile stretching across his face as he gets up from his desk to wander down the hall.

When he makes it down the hall and to the threshold that leads to you, he's not surprised in the slightest to find you at your pottery wheel. Your back is to him as you sit on your stool, headphones on as your body lightly moves along to the music playing, hands firm and shaping the clay in front of you into what he knows is the makings of a teapot.

Beside you, on the work table, Andrei sees two mugs newly finished with their handles attached, two finished matching saucer plates that need to be painted with glaze and fired, and two little spoons, already fired and glazed, probably newly taken out of the kiln. Beyond that, he also spots two jars - one for honey and one for sugar cubes, you had told him - and three brand new jars of glaze.

He takes a second to himself to just silently admire you, his beautiful wife of nearly two years, and lets his heart beat wild and content in his chest.

Andrei had converted one of his guest rooms into your own little art studio not long after you moved in with him, and by converted, he means he took out all the furniture, stripped the carpet, and let you decorate and furnish it how you saw fit.

He tried his best to learn as much as he could about what kinds of art you liked creating, the tools you used, but in truth, a lot of it was lost on him, and you had more mediums of art you were interested in than you cared to admit. Andrei had ended up giving you his card instead, telling you to buy whatever it was you needed or wanted, so that the space became exactly what you had always dreamed of.

You had been meticulous about it, too, and Andrei adored every second of watching you design the space back then. The flooring was first - you insisted on water and stain proof vinyl floors - followed by shelves, storage drawers, a small desk, your massive work table, and other organizing things. Then, once you had a place and space for everything, you bought canvases, a pottery wheel, clay, easels, paints, a sketchbook, pencils, pens, markers, and more.

You’d bought a kiln, too, which had its own place in a little shed he bought and had built for you outside. Since you'd gotten back into pottery and started making pieces, you'd been able to sell some to a few of the wives, girlfriends, and partners of players on the team, as well as some of Andrei's co-workers in the Canes' front office. You had even put a few up of your paintings and drawings you'd done on your larger canvases in their charity auctions over the last couple of years, which had given you a significant amount of your own money.

Andrei encouraged you to go legit and open up a shop, which was an idea you'd been slowly getting used to. You'd set up a website so far, and had sold your first collection a couple of months ago - planters and vases and hanging planters and such - which had done extremely well, but you insisted you wanted to still be able to find fun in doing it again instead of allowing it to feel like an obligation.

To help with that as of late, had been your project of a tea set for his mom's birthday, which was still months away. You'd been using the kiln a lot more because of it, for test pieces as well as the actual pieces themselves, so more often than not lately, your art studio is where he found you.

"If you call for me and I don't respond to you in ten seconds," you'd told him when you first started on the set, "I'm either in here, or at the kiln out back."

Quietly, he observes as you shape the lump of clay in the center of your wheel into a sphere, then, unhappy with the roundness, you carefully squeeze at it until it's back into another lump, before shaping it out once more. The rise of your shoulders before they tense as you start to create a hole in the middle of the clay, and the fall of them again when you start to pinch at the walls until it forms into the exact shape you want.

Only when you stop the wheel and dip your hands into the bowl of water beside you to get rid of the excess clay does Andrei approach, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head back, bumping it into his abdomen gently as you gaze up at him with his favorite dazzling smile. He carefully removes your headphones, putting it on the work table and smoothing your hair down.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then to your lips.

You hum softly before sitting up, turning yourself around on the stool to face him. "Hi handsome," you return, grabbing a towel from the work table and wiping your hands before settling them on his waist, fingers playing with the belt loops of his jeans. "Did you call for me a lot?"

"Just once," he says, unable to resist bending down to kiss you again.

He loves looking at you like this, soft in the mid morning light, a blissful smile on your face with dots of clay and glaze over your cheeks and on the little apron you have covering your clothes. He loves how he can smell the vanilla of your body wash among the earthen scents in the art studio, and how it makes him feel like he's completely at peace.

Andrei loves you. His almaznyy. His beautiful diamond. His wife.

"What's going on?" You ask him, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges in another one of his favorite smiles when his hands descend into your hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

"I bought the tickets for us to go and visit Evgeny and Sara." He says.

"Oh good," you say with a nod before leaning into his touch. "When do we leave?"

"Next week," he says, tugging playfully on a strand of your hair and chuckling softly when you pout at him for it. "Is that okay?"

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your face into his clothed abdomen, your verbal response muffled in the fabric. Andrei laughs, scratching gently at your scalp. "What was that, almaznyy?"

"Da," you say, leaning back to look at him again but keeping your arms secured around his waist. "That's fine with me."

He smirks when he spots a familiar glint in your eyes, watching the way your pupils dilate then blow out a little wide when he cups your face in his hands, thumbs caressing at your jaw. "My busy little almaznyy, you've been working hard lately, haven't you?"

You nod, humming in agreement. He nods too, letting one of his hands trail down and to the back of your neck, deftly undoing the knots at the top of your apron. "So diligent," he praises, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Your eyes track him as he removes his hands from your body, lowering himself to his knees so he can wrap his arms around your waist to get at the ties behind you. He buries his face into your neck as he does so, adoring the way your head immediately tilts to allow him the room. He ghosts his lips across the skin as he undoes the ties around your waist, ignoring your little whines of protest when he pulls the apron off of you and tosses it to the side.

He sits back on his haunches, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin of his own. "You got clay on your clothes too, almaznyy." He playfully chastises, gesturing towards the little flecks of clay on the black shirt you're wearing - which is most definitely his - and to the miniscule spots on your sweatpants. "Think we should probably get you cleaned up in that case, shouldn't we?"

A small smirk crosses your lips as you nod, and Andrei smiles, surging up to wrap you in his arms. You go easily, both your bodies on muscle memory as you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and he lifts you into his hold easily, standing with you and carrying you off down the hall to your bedroom.

~

The warm spray of the shower cascades down his bare back as Andrei fucks you slow and deep against the tiles, his arms settled into the space behind your knees as he holds you up and open for him.

Your cries echo around the bathroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair, grasping at the strands desperately, his name a repeated plea on your lips.

"More," you beg sweetly, and he smiles, eyes locked on your face. He lowers you a little bit, and on the next push in, your eyes flutter shut as your mouth falls open in a beautiful cry, pussy squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him so fucking dizzy.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, pressing you impossibly closer against the tiles and against himself, burying his face in your neck to suck a bruise into the skin. With every press of his hips forward, your clit grinds against his abs, and he can feel the way your body begins to tense up and shake in his hold, your nails disappearing from his scalp to dig into his shoulders instead.

His name leaves your lips in another desperate plea, and he chuckles, nipping playfully at the skin of your neck, your jaw, before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue with yours before he pulls away just slightly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

"Is my pretty wife going to come on her husband's cock?" He taunts, and he sees the way the words go straight through you, your eyes glazing over, body going almost lax in his grip.

(He'd gotten much filthier and practically insane with his dirty talk over time. It started not long after you'd left Eden and began officially dating nearly seven months after meeting, and had only gotten more intense during the three month time span that you'd been engaged. It didn't help the fact that he noticed you particularly loved when he called you his wife, regardless of the situation.)

"Andrei," you plead. "Please."

"Please what, pretty baby?" He murmurs, dragging his lips against yours lazily, "What is it my pretty wife wants, hm?"

Your pussy squeezes down again and he groans, stealing another filthy kiss from you. "'M so close," you say between kisses, dragging your nails across his shoulders again.

He keeps your legs hooked over his bent arms, reaching his hands down to squeeze at your waist, thumb rubbing gently over where he knows a little diamond tattoo sits at your side, fucking you onto his cock in deep, sharp thrusts that steal your breath from you, and your eyes squeeze shut as your body shakes even more in his hold.

Andrei latches his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his body tight against yours. That, and the added friction as your clit rubs against his abs, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chiseled chest, has you coming around him with a loud cry. Your pussy clamps down, pulsing around him and Andrei groans, holding you tight as he fucks past the grip, chasing after his own orgasm.

He groans low and deep, electricity shooting up his spine as he comes, filling you from where he's buried deep. It sends your body into a second orgasm almost immediately, and Andrei curses, muttering a string of Russian in your ear at the unexpected sensation.

You both take a blissful, fucked out moment to calm down, heartbeats slowing and breathing returning to normal.

"Okay?" He murmurs after a few minutes, and you nod, sighing happily in his hold. He taps your hips, and you nod again. An unhappy sounding noise leaves you when he gently pulls out, and his heart aches a little bit, thinking you’re probably sore. He’s immediately pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead while lowering you to the ground. His hands stay on your body, keeping you steady until you manage to stand on your own.

When his eyes finally get back to your face, there's an expression there he hasn't seen before, one he can't quite place. There's a tinge of disappointment there, and longing, and it brings a frown to his face too.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. When your eyes lock, the expression fades, and the smile that takes over your face is so brightly it almost knocks him off of his feet.

"What's wrong, almaznyy?" He says, thumb brushing against your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, hands circling around his wrists. "Nothing, Drei." You promise, "I'm perfectly happy."

There's nothing in your voice or in your face now that tells him that you're lying, or that you're hiding anything from him, so he has no reason to not believe you.

Still, he stores the expression he saw away for later, keeping it in mind just in case.

He takes his time washing you both off after that, enjoying the content noises you make as he shampoos your hair and wraps you up in a fluffy towel when you're all done, pressing gentle kisses all over your face before seizing your mouth in a kiss he hopes tells you "I'm so in love with you I think my heart might burst without you."

~

Andrei quickly darts out of the way as a little boy zooms past him, his father chasing after him and tossing a “sorry!” over his shoulder as he goes.

He laughs a little, calling out a “it’s okay!” in their way as he double checks that he still has a hold on your drinks and food before he keeps walking. 

He heads back into the airport lounge and straight for you, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and a warmed up croissant from one of the bistros in the terminal. You accept it with a happy smile and a murmured ‘thank you’ before he snuggles up next to you on the little couch you’ve both managed to commandeer for yourselves.

He glances over at your airport outfit once more, mostly because he can’t help but appreciate how cozy you look.

Admittedly, he’s still got a small habit of dressing up when he flies, so he’s his standard in black pants and a white shirt, and you insisted on matching with him when you got dressed this morning. You’re in black lounge pants, a white shirt, and you have a gray sweater tied and resting around your shoulders.

Andrei figured out that when you fly you prefer to have your own blanket with you, which you have curled around your shoulders right now as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

You look more ready for a cozy winter than you do for a week-long vacation during the summer in San Jose.

“Is it good baby?” He asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod, holding the cup to your cheek. Another thing he learned - you get cold easily, but especially in airports.

“Very,” you nod, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder. “Spasibo, malysh.”

“You’re welcome, almaznyy.” 

He’s content to relax like that with you, and when he takes his phone out once you’ve finished your drinks, you help him with the crossword puzzle game he became addicted to once he saw you playing it yourself.

The two of you are engrossed in trying to figure out a six letter word for the clue “tough” when there’s a blur of pale yellow accompanied by a flurry of giggles that crashes into your legs, and it makes both of you jump up a little in surprise.

It’s a baby boy, Andrei realizes, one who’s most likely just learned what running is given the delighted and mischievous expression on his face, and when he turns to check if you’re okay, he’s surprised to find you out of your seat, blanket abandoned, and kneeling on the floor in front of the child to see if they’re okay.

The baby looks like he’s seconds from crying, but then you’re smiling, speaking at him quietly and gently, and to Andrei’s amazement, the baby stops, looks at you, and then bursts into a fit of giggles.

You laugh, happy that you could make him feel better, and continue to speak to him while he babbles away at you. He’s seen you do it with Luka, coaxing him away from a tantrum he’d been seconds away from, and calming Mila down when she scraped her knee while learning to ride her bike that first time, and it still amazes him how good you are with kids. Something warm and fuzzy starts to grow in his heart, and it stops short when a woman who Andrei can only assume is the baby’s mother approaches.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, jogging toward where you and the baby are on the ground. “Leo’s just discovered how fast he can move but we’re still working on finding his brakes.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her through a laugh. “My nephew Luka was the same.”

My nephew - Andrei still loved that you thought that way.

“He probably had places to be and we were just in the way, weren’t we Leo?” You tease, pulling a funny face at Leo. His mom laughs when Leo bursts into giggles, picking Leo up into her arms.

“He’s fast,” Andrei notes when you stand with her, “How old is he?”

“He just turned one,” his mom gushes. 

You make a little cooing sound. “Is he your first?”

Leo’s mother shakes her head with a laugh. “You’d think so, but I have a three year old too. His name’s Sky, he’s with my husband over there, we finally just got him to settle down but then this little guy decided it was time to sprint.”

You and Andrei look over to where Leo’s mom gestured, finding the three year old who almost ran him over earlier eating snacks while his dad watches over him, all the while looking over at his wife and smiling when he sees her.

Andrei knows that smile, he probably sends that same smile your way about a hundred times a day. 

Ulybka vlyublennogo muzhchiny. His mom had said. The smile of a man in love.

“You should think about getting them into sports soon.” Andrei says when he turns back toward the mom, “Sky almost tackled me in the terminal earlier-”

“-And Leo barely flinched when he ran into me!” You tease, making another funny face at the baby. He giggles, suddenly growing shy as he hides in his mom’s shoulders.

She laughs, “Everyone’s been saying that to me. I might just have to consider it.”

Andrei reaches into his pocket, grabbing his business card from his wallet and hands it to the mother with a small smile. “If you ever think they’re interested in hockey, give me a call or send me an email. I’d be happy to get them set up.”

The mother takes Andrei’s card with a curious look, and when she reads his name, her eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles, laughing a little to herself.

“I knew you looked familiar! My husband and I are big fans. We were there for your last cup winning game. It’s so nice to meet you!”

Andrei catches the glance you shoot at him from the corner of his eye, can see the tense line of your shoulders in his peripheral, but he gives the mother an easy smile, and your body relaxes.

Now that he has you, that time in his life isn’t so painful anymore.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad that you were there, it felt good to have home crowd support.”

“I appreciate your offer, I’ll definitely reach out.” She says, then looks at both of you. “It was nice meeting you both, you’re such a lovely couple!”

You both say your goodbyes, you waving at baby Leo, who waves back shyly, then looks at Andrei. Andrei waves too, and to his surprise, baby Leo waves back to him too, before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

You finally return to your seat on the couch next to Andrei, wrapping both of your arms around his, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile brightly up at him.

“That was hot of you.” You say, which has Andrei laughing in surprise.

“What was, almaznyy?”

“You and your business cards.” You say, scrunching your nose a little. “I liked it, it was very authoritative.”

Andrei shakes his head, booping your nose with his finger. “Calm yourself down, almaznyy. I’m still not interested in being part of the mile high club.”

You roll your eyes with a shrug, but relax fully against his side. “Offer still stands.”

~

You're laying on the floor of Sara and Evgeny's living room, laughing as you bounce eight month old baby Alexei up and down against your belly, watching as his little legs kick back and forth and he babbles his joy. From beside you, three year old Luka lays on his belly as he plays with the train set Andrei had bought him last Christmas, and five year old Mila rests on your other side, coloring diligently in the sketchbook you'd bought her for her birthday.

She'd seen you drawing in one of your journals and had become both enraptured and amazed as she observed you, and then had been overjoyed when you handed her the book and pencil so she could create her own drawings as she pleased.

Her parents had been worried that she might accidentally press the pencil too tight and ruin one of your other drawings, or accidentally draw over something you had done, but either way, you would have cared less. "It's good for her to do it this way," you had told them, "so she knows what she makes is important, too."

On the couch above you, Sara's feeding a bottle to Alexei's twin brother Aleksander, watching you and her children. She smiles, nudging you gently in the side with her socked feet.

"You're a natural at this," she praises. "The kids always seem to behave better when you're here."

You scoff a little, making nonsensical noises at Alexei as he babbles back at you. "Hardly," you say. "I think it's because Andrei wears them out first."

When you and Andrei come around, he tends to round up his niece and nephews, tiring the older ones out by running around while you and Sara or Evgeny or Andrei's parents help with the twins.

Sara shakes her head. "No, he might wear them out, but they still have plenty of room to be crazy. You settle them down. This is the quietest they've been all day."

You look at your nieces and nephews at where they each are, peaceful and happy and content, and you shrug, smiling a little to yourself. "I guess so."

Sara laughs, nudging you again. "So, when are you gonna have some little ones of your own? We're outnumbered by boys here and it's your turn to pop a baby out for once."

You falter slightly, almost dropping baby Alexei straight on your face before you catch him effortlessly, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness when you launch yourself upright into a sitting position. Luka and Mila barely spare either of you a glance, too focused on what they're doing. You gaze at Sara, holding Alexei tight with one hand while shushing her with the other.

"Not so loud!" You half whisper, half yell.

Andrei and Evgeny were just in the kitchen not too far away, and while they were probably distracted by shop talk, you couldn't risk him hearing like this.

Sara narrows her eyes at you, frowning, whisper-yelling right back. "You told me on the phone last week that you were going to talk to him about it! And the week before that, and two weeks before that!"

You groan, shaking your head and beginning to bounce Alexei again when he starts to fuss. Sara shakes her head right back at you, gesturing for you to follow her as she heads toward the twins' nursery, instructing Mila and Luka to "wait right here while mommy talks to your aunt."

As you head to the nursery, you pass Andrei and Evgeny who are, as expected, engrossed in their conversation, but it doesn't stop Andrei from tossing a wink at you as you pass by.

You pointedly ignore the way it makes butterflies swarm and swoop in your stomach, smiling softly in return before ducking out of sight and into the nursery. Sara shuts the door behind you, giving you a pointed look as she does so.

You'd had best friends before, obviously, but never an older sister figure, and none quite like Sara. When Andrei had introduced you two, she'd been nothing but welcoming, friendly, and someone you'd come to rely on quite a lot since then.

When she announced she was pregnant with twins last year, you'd been overjoyed for her, and often traveled back and forth between San Jose and Raleigh to help her with the babies, especially since it had been Evgeny's first year working with the coaching staff of the Sharks, having previously been in the front office.

Maybe it was the excitement you got in helping her decorate the nursery, even though most of it was taken care of since they had things from Luka and Mila, or maybe it was just all the preparation you helped her with, but it had given you severe baby fever.

Like...severe.

Severe enough that you were practically ready to be pregnant that very same day until reality kicked in and knocked some serious sense into you.

You'd asked her how she and Evgeny had approached the topic of having kids, if she had advice on how you should broach the subject with Andrei, and she had only one thing to say.

"They're pretty direct people," she had said. "It's best to rip the bandaid off with something like that."

A couple of months ago, she texted you a picture of the twins in the matching pajama set you'd bought, and something in it made you want to finally talk to Andrei about it. So you told Sara that you would.

But...

The second you'd gone to Andrei in his office about it, you suddenly got cold feet. Realistically, you two hadn't actually talked about having kids before. Things with the two of you had been unconventional and fast from the start, so granted, you both had done things a little messily and quite backwards.

Still, the worst he could say to you was "no" or "not right now baby," but despite your past mess you two had always been on the same page, so the idea of hearing a "not right now" was okay, but hearing "no"?

Yeah, not something you had exactly prepared yourself for.

So instead of allowing there to be room for a "no" or "not right now," you just...didn't say a word.

Which Sara was definitely going to yell at you for.

Or at least, whisper yell, what with the twins going down for their nap and all.

Sara lays a droopy Aleksander into his crib, and he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. She takes Alexei from you next, sitting in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room to start to feed him his bottle while you sit on the floor, gazing at baby Aleksander through the bars of his crib.

"What in the world are you waiting for?" Sara asks you, voice soft but firm in the nursery. 

You groan a little to yourself. "I just haven't gotten around to it, okay?"

"Yes, but why?" She presses. "You know he won't say no to you."

"I actually don't know that. He might not be able to say no when I ask for help, or ask for something, but children are not things to ask for. It's an entire human being you're bringing into the world, you know!"

Sara gives you a deadpan expression. "Of course I know, I've brought four of them into existence."

"Then you know that it's a lot to ask. Even if I want a child, even if I want to be a mom and raise my kids and bring them up, that doesn't guarantee that Andrei wants the same."

"He'll want them with you." Sara insists. "He'll want them because you'll be their mother and he's in love with you and those kids will be half of you and he'll be so proud to say that they're your children."

The idea fills you with hope, but you tamp it down. You have to be realistic about this. You know your husband, and you know that while Sara's right and he will do anything for you, he also probably won't handle this being sprung on him as a surprise, or appreciate being confronted with it out of the blue.

"Just get rid of your birth control and tell him you want a kid." Sara insists, and your eyes bug out of your head.

"Are you insane?" You whisper yell. "That would definitely give him a heart attack."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's too young to have those."

"I'll talk to him," you promise, more to yourself than to Sara. "But I'm not using any of your suggestions."

Sara shrugs. "Fine by me, but there'd better be a new baby next Christmas, and it won't be mine."

~

In the kitchen, Andrei watches with fond eyes as you disappear into the nursery with Sara and the twins. He's listening to what Evgeny's talking about, he really is, but his eyes are locked on the silent screen of the baby monitor, showing you handing Alexei off to Sara after Sara's put Aleksander down.

Watching you with his niece and nephews all day had filled his heart with something warm and fuzzy, something he couldn't quite place.

The way that you cared for his family since he introduced you to them was something that made Andrei incredibly happy, and he could tell that the way that they cared for you in turn made you just as happy.

He often caught you speaking with his mother on the phone, trying your best to only stick to Russian as best as possible to make her comfortable. His father didn't reach out often, but when he did, you did your best to converse with him too. Sometimes, when you thought Andrei wasn't looking, he'd see you reading through a Russian textbook in your art studio, brushing up on the language.

You talked to Sara almost every week, the two of you growing to be as close as sisters, and that made Andrei happy considering the only real sibling relationship you had was still pretty strained. Even after Andrei married you, your brother Joshua still wasn't his favorite person, which was unfortunate, considering his husband Sam was an angel and one of your favorite people.

Evgeny had also grown closer to you a little, considering how much you helped him and Sara prepare for the arrival of the twins. There were times he'd reach out to you if he couldn't reach Andrei for any reason, and Evgeny often teased Andrei about how more often than not, it seemed like a freak accident that he'd managed to find someone like you to be his wife.

"Believe me," Andrei had told his brother. "I know."

He listens intently to his brother as he discusses what's going on with the Sharks, clearly seeking Andrei's advice, but all the while, Andrei keeps his eyes on you, watches you through the baby monitor as you sit with Sara and the twins.

Everything about your body language screams comfort, like there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be, and it brings a smile to his face unconsciously.

Evgeny pauses in his ranting, glancing to the baby monitor and rolling his eyes, shoving at Andrei. "Obrashchat' vnimaniye," he scolds. Pay attention.

"I am!" Andrei insists, turning his full attention back to his brother. "You were saying?"

Evgeny opens his mouth, then closes it, a curious expression crossing his features. "Have you thought about it?"

"About what?" Andrei asks, moving his brother so he can go into the fridge and steal one of those obnoxious glass bottles of water Evgeny insists on buying.

"About what comes after marriage," Evgeny says. "About having kids."

Andrei almost drops the water bottle on the kitchen floor, can hear it shatter in his ears, but he's pretty sure that's his brain doing that. "About what?" He asks, voice practically an echo in his head.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Ty takoy idiot."

Andrei turns to face him, frowning. "I am not an idiot."

"You are, actually. Have you two not talked about having kids?"

Andrei opens his mouth, then shuts it.

You two actually hadn't. Not really. Not at all, now that he thought about it.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Listen, I know you're enjoying your never ending honeymoon phase, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Andrei takes a swig from his water, glancing at you on the monitor.

You've got Alexei in your arms now, feeding him the rest of his bottle while Sara rests on the rocking chair, eyes on Aleksander.

His heart does a little flip, imagining you holding a little baby that's got your nose and his eyes, and it brings back the warm and fuzzy feeling he'd felt earlier.

Maybe...maybe it was worth a discussion.

~

Since Evgeny's house had gotten crowded with all the kids, Andrei had booked a suite for the two of you at the Marriott.

It had a lovely view of the city, especially at night, and Andrei enjoyed it even more with your naked body pressed against one of the many floor to ceiling windows, watching the way your face twisted with pleasure in the reflection of the glass.

The lights were off in the hotel room, so there wasn't a single chance of anyone seeing what the two of you were up to, but the thrill was there all the same. He wanted to show you off, show off his beautiful little wife, the only diamond he ever needed.

Your palm prints littered the window as you pushed back against him, and Andrei groaned, tightening the grip on your hips, fingers pressing against where he knew that little diamond tattoo rested beneath the waistband of your thong.

He could barely wait, barely think by the time you both got back to the hotel. The second your jeans were off, he pulled your thong to the side and slid in to the hilt, burying himself inside of you and making you come all over him in seconds.

It wasn't often that Andrei took you from behind. More often than not, he preferred looking at you, preferred watching the beautiful faces you made and watching the way your body reacted to his own. But in times like these, where there was something that could help him watch you, he couldn't exactly complain.

He releases his hold on one of your hips, letting his hands wander up your torso, bringing you upright against him as he bends his knees a little, adjusting for your height difference so he can cage you against him as he fucks into you.

Pleasant and happy noises leave you as he plays with one of your nipples, then the other, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His nails gently scratch at the valley between your breasts, making you shiver, before trailing his hand down your stomach.

He had every intention of putting his fingers to your clit, rubbing gently there the way you liked when he took you like this, but instead, his hands lingered on your stomach, on where he could feel the slight bulge of where his cock fucked in and out of you, and he found his hands resting there instead.

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy pushing back on his cock again as if on impulse, and a deep, pleased noise rumbled through Andrei's chest.

"Almaznyy?" He murmured against your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear and sucking against it gently.

You gasped in his hold, shaking a little, and he chuckled, pressing his hand against the little bulge of your stomach, the hand he still had on your waist tightening its grip, pressing his fingers a little more into the diamond tattoo.

"Can you feel me here, moya krasivaya zhena?" He asks you, cock throbbing when you squeeze against him in excitement. You loved it when he called you ‘my pretty wife.’ "Can you feel me fucking you?"

You nod, frantic, hands gripping onto his arms. "Please, malysh, wanna come."

"You wanna come already?" He taunts. "Gonna come for me in front of the whole city?"

A soft whine leaves your lips as he thrusts in particularly hard, emphasizing his question.

"Yes," you answer, nearly breathless.

“And what about me?” He teases, pressing his hand against your stomach a little more. "You want me to come inside, almaznyy? Want me to come right here?"

In the reflection of the window, he catches the way your eyes slam shut before you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry and body seizing as your orgasm claims you. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight, and it sends Andrei over the edge in seconds, pushing down on your waist to bury himself inside of you, cock throbbing almost painfully as he comes.

The two of you shake silently for a second, and Andrei holds you both upright as best as he can until he can feel your body as it calms down. He pulls out gently, not wasting a second before he scoops you up, walking you over to the bed to lay you on it gently before he climbs on beside you.

You go to him almost immediately, and his arms open on instinct, welcoming you in his embrace as you bury your nose in his chest.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to ask you if what just happened was okay, if you're okay, if he didn't cross a line, if you maybe wanted to try that again sometime soon or maybe if you want to try it in a different position.

But then he hears your breathing start to even out, feels the way your body goes lax in his hold, and he resigns himself to discussing it another time.

~

The following day, you and Andrei head back over to Sara and Evgeny’s for lunch. You help Sara put the kids down for their naps after you all eat, and Andrei and Evgeny handle the dishes.

When you and Sara come out of the kids’ rooms, you’re met with a chorus of laughter from Andrei, Evgeny, and then their mother’s voice echoes through the living room.

Peeking around the corner, you can see Andrei and Evegny crowded around Evgeny’s laptop, definitely on FaceTime with their mother.

She signals to you to hang back, and you nod. You’re more than happy to give Andrei and his brother the alone time they need to speak with their mom, so you lean back against the wall, Sara against the one opposite you, and you smile at each other when you hear the brother excitedly converse with their mother in Russian.

Your fluency has gotten better, but it’s not one hundred percent - same with Sara’s - so the two of you can only really pick up on bits and pieces here and there, catching tidbits of their mother’s praises for her boys along with her normal chastising.

You two are looking fit!

Still, you both need to eat more. 

You’re working too hard.

Are you ready for the upcoming season?

Oh my brilliant boys!

How are my daughters?

How are the grandkids?

Evgeny, you’d better bring them by soon so I can babysit.

Andrei, how are you doing?

Are you and my favorite girl happy?

When are you two going to give me more grandchildren?!

That last part sends a shock through your body, and Sara nudges you with her foot at the same time Andrei begins to stutter and stammer in the living room.

Their mom starts to say something else when her voice gets quieter, and you realize Andrei’s turned the volume down. His voice gets a little quieter, and Evgeny’s loud laughter drowns out whatever Andrei says in return to their mother.

Sara gives you another pointed look, as if to say “So you still didn’t talk to him about it.”

You roll your eyes, and she nudges your foot again before dragging you down the hall and into her and Evgeny’s bedroom. 

“For the love of God,” she says. “I know you said you’re not taking my suggestions, but you are going to have to take this one, specifically with the promise that you’ll at least save it until you get back to Raleigh.”

You answer her with a deadpan stare, and she sighs, exasperated, before gesturing to you. 

“You have to seduce him.” She says plainly. “It’s how I did it with Evgeny, and it’s how you’re going to have to do it with Andrei instead of tiptoeing around.”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, so all you can manage is a weak “What?”

“Remember when I told you to rip the bandaid off?” She asks, and you nod. She waves a hand around, “Well, that’s what I meant by that. Seduce him. Rip the bandaid off.”

“Seduce him…” You say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sara grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you a bit. “You know he loves you, you know he thinks you’re hot. Use it.”

Sara doesn’t know how you and Andrei met, no one does except Lottie, Oli, Mason, Eli, and you and Andrei. She has no idea about your past.

Which means she has no idea that if there is anything you know how to do, it’s seduce Andrei.

~

You try your best to clear your mind, focusing on exfoliating your skin as you shower and the things you’re planning on doing once this shower is done.

It had been a week since you’d returned from visiting with Sara and Evgeny, and this morning, you’d gone to see your OBGYN doctor to discuss…well, a possible game plan.

You agreed that after you finished this round of birth control pills and had your period, you and Andrei would probably start trying.

And well, after you spoke to Andrei about all of this, of course. 

But Sara was right, seduction might have to come first. You were too out of sorts to wait any longer.

He had been gone this morning when you went to your appointment, having to be at the practice rink to watch the team’s morning skate, and when you had returned home after running some errands, he’d been in his office for a string of phone calls, which he said he’d be in and out of till about two this afternoon.

It was about noon, then. So you’d gone on a run, had a little pep talk with yourself to prepare for the impending conversation, and strategized.

The pep talk you had was simple - if during said conversation, Andrei voiced that he didn’t want kids, that was that. You would not be forcing him into anything he didn’t want or trying to convince him, and the two of you would likely talk things out from there.

If he did want kids, perfect, you could talk about that, but, you could also give him a bit of extra motivation.

Which brought you to the seduction strategy you’d developed so carefully on the way back from your run.

It was about one in the afternoon when you got back, so you threw together a quick lunch for you and Andrei to have - once he was done with his phone calls and you - and it was about one thirty when you hopped into the shower.

You’d gone for a wax right after your doctor’s appointment, as part of the errands you ran, along with a mani pedi, but a little extra gentle exfoliation on the legs never hurt anyone.

Once you finished in the shower, you toweled off and applied the vanilla lotion Andrei loved the most on you, before slipping on one of your favorite sundresses. It was also one Andrei liked on you, particularly because it was just the right side of see through. 

Hence, why it was a key part to your strategy.

It might be devious, and it’s definitely playing dirty, but you need a little ammunition on your side, if not for the sake of a small confidence boost to get you through the conversation.

You did this for a living, for a time. You did this specifically for Andrei before, it shouldn’t be too hard to do it for him again. Sure, the way that you seduced him now looked different, the way that you were together now had changed drastically, but Sara was right. At the very least, Andrei loved you, and he never failed to remind you how attractive you were to him.

So hopefully, this worked.

You checked the time on the clock on your nightstand - one fifty five. A quick glance in the mirror assured you this was the best option outfit wise, and your nerves reminded you that you’d both probably need a little bit of liquid courage for this next bit. Heading back out to the kitchen, you make yourself a quick margarita and pour Andrei a shot of his favorite whisky. 

If there was anything you knew about your husband, sometimes he just needed a little something to take the edge off before he could plow forward with whatever it was he needed to do. He was bound to be nervous once you brought up the idea of having a baby, especially if you were going to be playing just a little bit dirty about it. 

You grabbed both glasses and headed back down the hall to Andrei’s office. Just as you crossed the threshold, he was bidding whoever was on the other line goodbye, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself.

Andrei is your husband. You love each other. You reminded yourself. He is your husband. You can get through anything together.

Andrei smiles when you hand him his glass, his reading glasses perched on his nose making him look both hot, authoritative, and innocent all at once. “Now how did you know I needed this, moya zhena?”

You shrug, playing innocent. “A lucky guess.”

You both toast, clinking your glasses before each taking a sip of your respective drinks. You try to hide your smile behind your glass as you do, but you should’ve known better.

Andrei’s almost always looking at you, so nothing ever could get past your loving and doting husband.

“What’s that smile doing there?” He teases, and it’s then that he seems to finally take in what you’re wearing.

And that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

You try another innocent smile, but Andrei raises a brow in suspicion, quirking his finger and summoning you to his side of the desk.

Placing your glass down on the mahogany, you round the desk to his side, obeying when he taps the desk and jumping up, taking a seat but keeping your legs crossed.

You don’t want him distracted.

“Are you about to ask me for something expensive, almaznyy? Because if you are, you’re off to a good start.”

You never actually needed to do anything if it was expensive, including asking him for anything, since you did have your own income, and you both knew that. But still, every now and again you liked to pretend like you did, liked the way it made Andrei nervous and pliant, like he didn’t meet you the way he actually did, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept. 

But that wasn’t what you were going for here.

“Well,” you start, “it’s sort of expensive. An…investment, if you will.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t tell me Jarvy’s wife actually talked you into wanting to buy that monstrosity of a beach house.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, having almost completely forgotten Tessa’s attempt to expand her real estate portfolio by tempting you with an even bigger sunroom than the one you and Andrei had now.

You shake your head. “No no, I don’t want that house.”

“But you do want a house?” Andrei inquires.

You shake your head, nerves suddenly racing through your veins. It makes your hands shake, so you reach out for him, cupping his jaw with your hand, leaving the other resting in your lap. You thumb over the stubble along his jaw, humming to yourself, trying to gather the right words.

It makes Andrei nervous. “Listen, almaznyy, whatever it is, we-”

“I want this house, Bubby,” you interrupt, wanting to be out with it but also not sure if you were remotely prepared for the rest of his sentence. At the pet name, Andrei’s eyes get brighter, his entire demeanor softening. “I want this house, with you and I in it, and maybe…maybe a little one running around in it, too.”

There. You said it…kind of.

But it was out there now. 

And Andrei…

There’s surprise in his face, definitely, and you’d been expecting that. But there’s also no…opposition. Nothing that says he doesn’t want to have this conversation, nothing that screams disagreement, nothing that says he doesn’t like the idea.

There are nerves there, like yours, but amongst the nerves and surprise is…hope? Something wistful. 

You lean into it, trailing your hand from his face to his arm, then down to the desk where his hand rests beside your legs. You take it, intertwining your fingers, playing with his hand a little.

“Bubby,” you continue. And that time you’re definitely playing dirty, saying one of his favorite pet names like that, like you want something - which you do, no question - and it makes Andrei’s whole body relax. “I want a baby,” you say, this time, plainly, so there’s no question and no doubt. “I want to have a baby with you.” You glance up at him, finding his intense gaze already on you. “What do you think?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and if you didn’t already know your husband, his lack of a response might concern you. But the look on his face tells you that he’s thinking, and so you wait, giving him enough space and time to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he squeezes your hand, a little sigh of relief mixed with a laugh leaving his chest, eyes crinkling at the corners as a brilliant smile takes over his features. He says nothing, just maneuvers you to part your legs so he can haul you off the desk and into his lap. You go to him easily, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing him in. One of his arms bands itself across your waist, the other across your back so he can cradle the back of your head in his hands.

“I didn’t know how to ask you.” He says softly into your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. How to ask…how to tell you…”

“Ya tozhe,” you tell him. Me too. “I didn’t know if it was something you wanted.”

“We never talked about it,” he agrees. “And we should have, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, malysh. We’re talking about it now, aren’t we?” You say, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

He tightens his grip on you. “Because you were brave enough to do it. You’ve always been the brave one of the two of us, almaznyy.”

“You were the one who brought us together, Andrei.” You remind him, “I couldn’t have done that. Only you could have, and you did.”

“I would do it again.” He swears, leaning back a little to press a kiss to your forehead. 

You pull back a little, puckering your lips, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you softly, gently, and like he has all the time in the world. You love when he kisses you like this, like he’s afraid you’ll break or disappear into thin air. It makes you feel precious, like the very diamond he continues to call you.

“Bubby,” you murmur between kisses, “how many babies do you want?”

There’s a choked noise that bubbles in his throat, so you pull back, looking at him in concern. He reaches for his scotch, but you bat his hand away, handing him the bottle of water he always keeps on his desk instead.

He takes a couple of grateful swigs, and much to his disappointment, you climb off of him and climb back to your perch on his desk, giving him some room to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise there.”

Andrei shakes his head, putting the closed water bottle down and reaches for his glass, downing the rest of its contents. When it's empty, you take it back from him, putting it on a far enough corner of his desk before reaching for your glass, taking down the rest of your margarita, then set the empty glass next to Andrei’s. Once those are out of the way, you lean back on your hands, your attention solely on Andrei once more.

He’s got a little glint in his eye as he considers you, letting one of his hands come up to rest on your legs, caressing your skin. “You know me, almaznyy. I’m not picky.” He starts. “I’ll be satisfied with as many babies as you’re willing to give me.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. In reward, you nudge the hand he has on your leg a little, and Andrei beams, gently grabbing your calf so he can part your legs, this time, to take in the sight of your bare pussy.

Carefully, you pull up the hem of your dress and push yourself to the edge of his desk, and Andrei takes your ankles, gently placing one on the armrest of his chair, putting the other over his shoulder. He scoots his chair in closer, your leg sliding down his back a little and allowing his hands to rest on your hips.

“We should…” he starts, swallowing. “We should probably talk about this a little more.”

You smirk. “We are talking, though.”

“In depth,” he clarifies. “Get into specifics, and things.”

But even as he says it, you can see in his face you probably wouldn’t get further than the next five minutes. “We can still talk about it after, too, okay? We’ll sit and have a real conversation about it.”

He blinks, nodding, then glances down at where you know he wants to bury his face.

“If you wanted a baby, almaznyy,” he says, warm breath fanning over your lower abdomen, “you didn’t have to play dirty.”

“Dirty?” You ask, innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

Andrei narrows his eyes at you. “The first time you walked into this office on a mission, you were dressed just like this.”

“You mean when I used to be your assistant?” You tease, and he pinches your thigh playfully.

“Moya zhena,” he warns. He may be playful, but it seems you’ve pushed a few too many buttons in that area today.

Shame, you think. Maybe I can try again after dinner. 

You roll your eyes playfully, pouting a little. “I was nervous and needed some confidence, alright?”

“You look plenty confident to me,” he reassures you with a slight nod, then he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress and pressing against your stomach, his nice way of saying ‘lay back moya zhena, let me take care of you.’

The first swipe of his tongue in your folds takes you by surprise, a pleasant squeal leaving your lips and echoing around his office. His second taste of you is slower, his tongue laying flat against you and dragging from your entrance to your clit, his lips circling around the bud and sucking in a way that elicits a pleasant moan from you.

Andrei’s hands crawl up your body to the neckline of your dress, and you help him a little, slipping the straps off so he can pull the neckline down, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing.

He’d been particularly fond of the first time you’d had sex in this house together. Had cherished the memory of you in that light pink sundress and on this desk in a similar fashion. It was probably why you’d chosen to approach him this way, he thinks absentmindedly, lips and mouth settling into the familiar pace you love when he’s got his face between your thighs.

Andrei can feel his pants get a little tighter the wetter you get, his chin coated in your slick and nose nudging against your clit as his lips and tongue work you open. He’s so perfectly at peace here, totally content to just lick at you and taste you for hours at a time that he nearly forgets why you’re sprawled out on his desk like this.

You tugging at his hair serves as a gentle reminder that kicks him into gear, and he smiles against your skin, pressing kisses to the junction of your thighs and nipping at you a little.

“Andrei,” you say, breathless. “Potoropites', pozhaluysta.” Hurry up, please.

He shakes his head, gently letting your legs fall to the side as he sits up in his chair, draping his body over yours. “Not this time, almaznyy,” he says, wrapping your arms around his neck before he wraps his own arms around your back, cupping your ass in his hands.

Your brain kicks into gear just in time for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up, pressing filthy open mouth kisses to your neck as he navigates the hallway carefully, taking the measured and familiar steps to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the mattress, placing you delicately among the pillows before he’s shedding his shirt and pants, kicking his boxer briefs off to the side and then settling back between your legs.

This time, your thighs squeeze at his head when he sucks your pussy into his mouth particularly hard, tongue dipping inside of you, and your fingers fly into his hair, scratching at his scalp in warning.

“Behave, moy muzh.” you hiss through gritted teeth, even if the way you writhe against his face tells him you like it. 

“You started it,” he reminds you, tugging on the dress resting around your middle. You huff, grabbing the bottom and peeling it off, tossing it in the direction of Andrei’s pile of clothes. 

Your eyes sparkle with mischief when you watch the way he takes in the sight of your naked body. No matter how many times the two of you do this, Andrei always looks at you the same way.

Like he’s in love, like it’s the first time, like for all he wants to take you apart, the way he’ll put you back together will be well worth it, and if it isn’t, he’ll work for it until it is.

“Pridi ko mne, lyubov' moya,” you beckon him. Come to me, my love.

His bottom lip drags against your clit as he rises from his position, tongue darting out to lick at your arousal still coating his lips, and the sight alone licks at the flame of arousal sparking low in your belly.

When he crawls up your body to kiss you, he props himself up on his arms, not wanting to rest his full weight on you, his delicate little almaznyy. Normally, you love it, but right now, you need something a little different. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as you seize his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, pulling him down to you and taking him by surprise as you manage to flip him onto his back on the way down. You take full advantage of his surprise by making your way down his body to settle between his legs, wrapping your fist around his cock and taking him into your mouth.

Andrei groans, sitting up on his elbows to watch you.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to make a baby if you keep doing that,” he warns, cock throbbing against your tongue as if to emphasize his point. 

You bat your eyelashes at him, sucking at the head of his cock and using your hands to stroke at him at the same time. He hisses, one of his hands flying to rest in your hair, the other resting behind his head and emphasizing the chiseled muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe this man was your husband.

“Almaznyy,” he warns when you take him down your throat, swallowing around him. You’re slow to come off his cock, letting him leave your lips with a dramatic ‘pop.’

“I’m still on birth control,” you tell him. “So we can’t make a baby tonight anyway, probably not for another month, at least.”

His brows furrow, both from your statement and the way you twist your wrist, stroking his cock the way you know he likes. “Then what - ah yebat’ - what are we doing?” He asks, trying to focus on the conversation as you take him back in your throat. You hum a little, and he tugs on the strands of your hair again in warning.

You pull off of him, gently stroking your hand up and down, squeezing as you go. “Practicing, of course.”

He lets his arms fall out beside him, collapsing against the pillows and dragging his hands over his eyes. “Almaznyy,” he huffs, hips stuttering when you squeeze him at the base.

“Hmm?” You hum, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Andrei moves quickly, hauling you up his body and cradling you close as he flips you over again. He positions you among the pillows, placing one under your waist so you’re practically propped up for him. He positions himself so his arms rest in the crook of your knees, your ankles near his head as he folds his body over yours.

He takes his cock in his hand, running the head through your folds. “Practice?” 

You nod, “Practice, for now.” You reach out, pushing his hand out of the way so you can line his cock up with your entrance. “Which is why the desk was perfectly good, and-”

The rest of your words are stolen from you when Andrei bats your hand away gently and slides inside of you, slow but precise, bottoming out and nestling his body close to yours. Your eyes flutter shut when you squeeze around him, and his hands come up, cradling the sides of your face as he murmurs encouraging words to you, staying still until you’ve adjusted to his size.

“Almaznyy,” he calls, and your eyes blink open, glazed over and hazy and you’ve barely even started. “Good?”

You nod, tilting your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He laughs a little, shaking his head. “So damn impatient.” 

He raises his body off of yours a little, angling his hips and setting a steady pace, one that has you whining in protest almost immediately, grabbing at the muscles of his ass and trying to drag him closer.

“I won’t break Andrei-” you start, but he cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“I don’t care if it’s just practice, almaznyy.” He tells you, “and I don’t care how many times we have to practice. I’m going to make it last, and I’m going to make sure that you remember all the ways I fuck you and make love to you until I put a baby in you.”

You gasp a little, and Andrei smiles to himself, thoroughly pleased. He sits up, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs and settling in to fuck you just the way you like. He fucks you in deep, strong strokes, the head of his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot in your pussy every single time.

It steals your breath from you, and all the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching signal to Andrei like a beacon. The way your breathing catches in your throat, the way you can’t keep your eyes open, how your legs start to shake.

He takes his thumb and rests it on your clit, rubbing in lazy circles until your back arches off the bed, a satisfied cry echoing out of your throat and into the pillows beside your head when you come. Your pussy squeezes down in a way that makes Andrei’s head go dizzy, and then he’s coming with a groan, pushing your hips down onto him as he buries himself to the hilt, his orgasm sudden and a shock to his system.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, and moves your legs off of his shoulders to make it easier to pull out of you and give you reprieve, but a noise of protest leaves your throat, and your ankles lock at the base of his spine. 

He pauses, glancing at you curiously when he notices the look on your face.

Andrei thinks back to before you left for San Jose, the day he took you in the shower, and how upset you’d been when he set you down on your feet.

It clicks in his head, then. What you’d been upset about.

He’s still hard - he’s practically always hard when he’s around you - so he moves his hips, slowly pulling back an inch before pushing back inside. You throw your head back, his name leaving your lips in relief, and he smirks. 

Fucking you in shallow thrusts, thumb circling your clit, Andrei watches in fascination as he pushes his come back inside of you with his cock, watches the way your pretty face twists in pleasure, and hums satisfactorily to himself. 

“Is this what you’ve been needing, moya zhena?” He asks, eyes on yours the whole time. “How long have you wanted this?”

You can barely answer him, your head thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, back still arched and pushing those beautiful tits of yours up. Andrei takes them in his hands, massaging them, and you keen, pushing into his hands and pussy trying to retreat from his cock with nowhere to go.

The sensation feels different for him. He’s hypersensitive now, all too away of the slick slide of his cock, of your mixed come leaking out of you before he pushes back in, feels heat begin to prick at his skin when your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze, like it’s trying to keep him inside of you. With every brush of his finger over your nipples, your pussy squeezes and you try to pull off of him, but in the next breath you’re winding your hips, pushing back down until he’s buried to the hilt.

Andrei pushes your legs up again before he rests his weight on you gently, his shoulders under your knees, burying his face in your neck and placing his hands under your ass, cradling you closer to him as he starts to fuck you in deeper strokes, drowning in the pleased little noises leaving your lips.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, dorogaya,” he murmurs against your neck. You feel so good, darling. 

“Andrei,” you finally manage to breathe out, and relief floods through his veins. There were times when you two made love that you got so lost in the pleasure that you couldn’t speak to him, and it worried Andrei to no end. But you always came back to him, always called for him, and the same calm washes over his body, a shiver running up his spine.

Your arms come up, wrapping around his neck and arching your back, giving him more access to you. Andrei hums, pleased, sucking a bruise into your skin while his cock starts to throb from where he’s fucking you, can feel a second orgasm creeping up when he bites down gently, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin and you start to squeeze and clench around him.

“Gonna come again, almaznyy?” He asks, nosing along your jaw. “Want me to come again, too?”

You nod, turning your head and Andrei meets you, slotting your lips together and swallowing your moans down when you shake gently beneath him, back arching and pushing your body closer to his. His eyes squeeze shut, electricity zipping up his spine when your orgasm tips him over the edge and he’s spilling into you again, groaning against your jaw.

His arms come out from under you and he gently eases your legs back down against the bed, massaging the muscles as he does. Instead of resting them against the bed though, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, and Andrei laughs. 

Gently, he rolls you both until he’s laying underneath you instead, careful to keep himself nestled inside of you, and he smiles to himself when you do a half cat-like stretch before sprawling across his chest. 

A pleased little exhale greets his ears after a moment, and his hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles in your back. “Made you lunch,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “‘S in the kitchen.”

“Spasibo, almaznyy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We should go eat it then, it’s probably cold by now.”

“It’s the chicken caesar salad wraps you like.” You say, lips dragging across his chest as you speak. “And I made strawberry lemonade this morning, should be ready by now.”

He nods, tapping your flank gently. “We should get up, malyshka. Get cleaned up.”

You nod, but you’ve got that look in your eye like before, like you’re disappointed as you carefully lift yourself off of him and roll onto the mattress beside him. Andrei rolls onto his side, cradling your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, moya zhena?” 

You shake your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “Nothing’s wrong, just…excited, is all.”

“Excited?”

“To start a family with you,” you clarify. 

“Then why do you look so sad?” He wonders, thumbing at the pout in your bottom lip.

You laugh, nose scrunching a little before cuddling into him. “It’s silly - I just wanted to start now.”

“It’s only a month, right?” He asks. You nod, nose rubbing at his pec, and he smiles to himself. “That’s good - plenty of time for us to practice, then? Wanna make sure we get it right on the first try.”

You snort. “Perfektsionist.” Perfectionist.

“Only the best for you, moya zhena.” Andrei says, teasing. Underneath it though, you both know that he’s serious. Because if anything, even as he rises from the bed and lifts you in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, you know he never does anything half assed. 

Now that you’re both on the same page, he’s going to do everything he can to ensure you’re well looked after from beginning to end, and when your little baby eventually comes, he’s going to work twice as hard to make sure the both of you are taken care of, and that you’ll want for nothing.

You, his almaznyy, and your future child, his malen'kaya rubin. His little ruby.

[hotforharrison]

My ex-husband and I each had our own rooms for our computers and our other things, like offices sort of.

My room is currently 10'x12' and gets easily into the low to mid-80s in the summer because it's Texas and hot as hell this time of year.

His former room is 12'x12' and has a window AC unit.

He's already moved 90% of his things out of that room, and the other 10% will be out soon. (That's been super hard to watch his things trickle away.)

It occurred to me today that I can move my stuff into the better room, since it's going to be empty.

His former room is currently painted a dark midnight blue, which isn't my favorite color, and it also wouldn't be great if we ended up selling the house for some reason, which neither one of us wants to do.

He intends to use this house as a rental unit long term, and I'm hopefully going to meet someone new to love who loves me who I might end up living here with because of the cost of renting an apartment.

Anyway, my ex-husband and I used to share his room when we had a roommate in what became my room, and at one point while we shared his room, I used the wall to push myself backward while I was getting up from my computer, and I made a decent sized hole in it.

That was completely forgotten about until today when we were moving his stuff and found the hole behind a bookshelf.

In addition to that, he's also going to have to patch the wall where he has a pegboard he's taking down.

Those areas will need to be repainted, and instead of getting some more of the midnight blue, I'm going to paint that room a nice neutral tone called Creamy Mushroom.

I've also plotted out the layout of the room with a wonderful website that let me enter the exact measurements of furniture in inches.

"Cubes" is a storage cube unit that holds 6 of those square fabric storage bins that will double as storage and a nightstand, "BS" is a bookshelf, and I have a 75g and 45g aquarium that are labeled "Fish."

Moving everything will be a HUGE undertaking, especially the aquariums, but I wanted to change the substrate in the 75g regardless.

I have a dirted tank capped with sand that has started releasing concentrated ammonia bubbles into the water. I removed a fuckton of a plant called jungle val, and the bubbles started coming up after that, which is a thousand percent not ideal.

I'm not sure what I'm going to use as a substrate next.

You can get black diamond blasting sand cheaply, and it does the same thing as black aquarium sand at a fraction of the cost.

I used white pool filter sand for the 45g, which I'm going to just remove part of and put back in there after it's removed and moved into my new room.

I fortunately have the 45g to temporarily move the fish from the 75g into while I get the 75g set back up.

I don't overstock my tanks, so everyone should be fine in there for a little while.

The 45g currently contains 4 Hercules snails, 1 mystery snail, and an albino bristlenose pleco.

I plan on moving my betta, Benedict, from a 5.5g "quarantine" tank into the 45g eventually, with his cherry shrimp, amano shrimp, mini rabbit snail, and pagoda snail "friends." (They are not his friends.)

[eldritchboop]

Okay, so I'm hella stressed and in this situation my brain goes wandering off into the aether looking for dopamine wherever it might find it. Yesterday, it stumbled onto a modern problem with a fun historic-era solution.

The US Census Bureau estimates that the average American will move 11.7 times in their lives. That's a lot, and one of the things I remember from my cross-country move was how difficult it was to take my furniture with me. It's all weird and awkward shape, cannot pack efficiently, and I ended up selling most of it and only taking a few pieces in order to fit everything in a moving cube.

Did you know this has been an issue before?

Meet: Campaign Furnture/Patent Furniture

People have been on the move forever, and the wealthy didn't see a reason to skimp on luxury as they did. It reached a peak during the British Georgian and Victorian era, when military officers would bring basically everything with them, because why would being in a war zone mean compromising on creature comforts? Ah, to be a rich white Victorian and thoroughly believe the universe revolves around you. But they also had to get their stuff there, and bring it with them when it was time to move.

And thus, campaign furniture reached its peak. This was full-size furniture that was designed to break down into the smallest pieces possible, and pack into itself or easy crates.

There are dressers:

Via Schwartz 1968

There are vanities:

Via 1stDibs Antiques

There are sofas! Ones that turn into beds, too!

There are bookshelves!

Via Schwartz 1968

My spouse has a piece similar to this - a bookcase where you can remove the shelves, fold in the sides, and flip down the top. BAM. Flat bookshelf. Easily slipped into a car or box. Some original campaign furniture took it a step further. Why not leave all the books in the box and just close and disassemble the bookshelf?

Campaign furniture is now a pretty niche woodworking style, meaning pieces are antiques or thousands of dollars. But wouldn't this be lovely as a mass-produced style?

[sarasa-cat]

Put on a few podcasts and hammered away at a little more organization and konmari-cleanout of the Pile Of Questionable and Disorganized Things that has accumulated in one corner of the office/art studio.

✅ Pile of randomness immediately in front of storage closet removed! (Even if some fraction of it was shifted over in the ever shrinking pile of Questionable & Disorganized Things that now only blocks two cabinet doors rather than ALL OF THE NORTHWEST CORNER AND NORTH WALL).

✅ A wide range of different kinds of printer paper (laser and inkjet) are now organized and stored in the cabinets beneath respective printers.

✅ Narrow bookcase cleaned out, moved into its final destination (yay! All furniture is now where it belongs!) and small paper/art rack that by pure coincidence FIT PERFECTLY into those elongated bookshelf cubes are now inserted. Various things tidied up in that bookcase (which does not contain books, only art things).

✅ Two (of many) lights set up, cords discretely tucked and tied so they don't get in the way of anything.

✅ More art supplies discovered (in a box in the aforementioned Pile), and 90% of it has been put in its proper home elsewhere in the studio space.

✅ Two shoeboxes of random office supplies (gem clips, sticky notes of every size imaginable, labels, etc. etc. etc.) have been located in The Pile, and set aside for the day I reorg all of the remaining office supplies.

✅ Random small boxes, other packing supplies, and an ugly storage container: flattened, sorted, and taken out to recycling or trash.

...

As for other things, life is still a bit nutty with over-scheduled nonsense (self and partner). Last night was YET ANOTHER NIGHT where dinner occurred close to 11pm.

Honestly, I find myself zoning out a lot. Like, I'll sit down for a moment to think about something and then just get lost in the process of looking at stuff that needs to be reorganized (I'm specifically speaking about the disaster in the bookcases in my office/art studio) and then .... brain just zones out. Not my normal state of being. Mostly just tired. The sort of tired that comes from feeling like there is too much that needs to be done (I'm specifically talking about all of the non-work things that are boring but required for Adulting) and too much unpredictability still leaking into our lives -- as if everything from Mar 2020 until now hasn't been just one big rollercoaster ride of THREE FREAKING YEARS of unpredictability mixed in with managing a long list of family crises from afar.

Feeling weary.

Hoping with all my hope that we don't have to (AGAIN) cancel a vacation that is coming up in a few weeks -- nothing fancy. Just staying for a week in a nice little artsy town a few hours drive from where we live. Honestly, I need this so much.

[etrey]

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https://sites.google.com/view/de4tsa4v/home 

Business Name — Cube World USA

Phone : +1 888–282–3871

E- Mail — info@cubeworldusa.com 

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[portmcau]

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This blog post will explore the numerous benefits of high-cube shipping containers and why they are the perfect choice for your storage requirements. High cube containers offer unparalleled convenience and flexibility for all your storage needs, from their spacious interiors to their suitability for various industries and applications.

Understanding High Cube Shipping Containers

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The key features distinguishing high cube containers from standard ones include their dimensions, with a standard height of 9'6" compared to the 8'6" height of standard containers. Choosing high cube containers over other options provides several advantages, which we will explore in detail.

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Businesses and individuals can create tailored storage solutions that meet their specific needs and requirements by harnessing the versatility and customisation options of high cube containers.

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High cube containers are built to withstand the rigors of transportation and long-term outdoor storage. Constructed from high-quality steel, these containers offer exceptional durability, protecting your stored items from the elements and potential intruders. High cube containers can also be equipped with advanced security features such as lockboxes, security bars, and alarm systems, providing peace of mind for valuable or sensitive items. Compared to traditional storage methods like sheds or warehouses, high cube containers offer superior security and longevity.

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While the initial investment in a high cube container may seem significant, the long-term benefits far outweigh the upfront costs. High cube containers are an economical choice when considering the cost per square foot of storage space. High cube containers offer considerable cost savings compared to other storage options, such as constructing permanent structures or renting warehouse space. Furthermore, the potential for repurposing the container for other uses down the line adds to its long-term value, making it a wise investment for businesses and individuals alike.

Environmental Sustainability

For those seeking eco-friendly storage solutions, high cube containers offer a compelling case for sustainability. By repurposing shipping containers, businesses and individuals can contribute to reducing waste and environmental impact. Reusing materials in container construction aligns with sustainable practices, making high cube containers an environmentally conscious choice. Businesses committed to sustainability can benefit from the positive image associated with implementing eco-friendly storage solutions.

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Beyond traditional storage, high cube shipping containers for sale have found innovative applications across various industries. From pop-up shops and art galleries to off-grid homes and disaster relief shelters, the versatility of high-cube containers knows no bounds. Real-life case studies and success stories are inspiring examples of these containers' diverse and creative uses. By exploring alternative uses, readers can discover the untapped potential of high cube containers for their specific needs.

Pop-Up Shops: High cube containers provide an excellent foundation for pop-up shops and retail spaces, offering a unique and customisable environment for showcasing products and attracting customers.

Art Galleries: Artists and curators have transformed high cube containers into vibrant art galleries, providing a distinctive backdrop for exhibitions and installations in urban and remote locations.

Off-Grid Homes: With their sturdy construction and customisable interiors, high cube containers are an affordable and sustainable option for off-grid living, offering a minimalist yet functional lifestyle.

Disaster Relief Shelters: In times of crisis, high cube containers are repurposed as temporary shelters and emergency housing, providing a safe and secure refuge for displaced individuals and communities.

Mobile Offices: Businesses and organisations utilise high cube containers as mobile offices and workspace solutions, offering flexibility and convenience for remote work and on-site projects.

Event Spaces: From music festivals to corporate events, high cube containers are transformed into stylish event spaces and hospitality suites, adding a unique and memorable touch to any gathering.

Vertical Farming: In urban environments where space is limited, high cube containers are repurposed as vertical farms, enabling the cultivation of fresh produce in innovative and sustainable ways.

By exploring these diverse applications, readers can gain a deeper appreciation for the versatility and adaptability of high cube containers, opening up new possibilities for their projects and ventures.

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When it comes to purchasing high cube containers, several factors should be taken into consideration. From assessing the condition of the container to understanding delivery and customisation options, finding a reputable supplier or dealer is crucial. Tips for navigating the purchasing process and guidance on customising and transporting the container ensure a smooth and successful acquisition. By being well-informed and prepared, individuals and businesses can make confident decisions when investing in high cube containers.

Conclusion

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In conclusion, high cube shipping containers offer many benefits and advantages that make them an ideal choice for a wide range of storage needs. From their versatility and customisation options to their durability, cost-effectiveness, and environmental sustainability, high cube containers present a compelling case for individuals and businesses seeking reliable storage solutions. Whether you're in need of additional storage space, a customisable workspace, or an eco-friendly solution, high cube containers offer a world of possibilities. It's time to explore the potential of high cube shipping containers and discover how they can meet your unique storage needs.

Source From: Why High Cube Shipping Containers Are Ideal for Your Storage Needs?

[gfdjgj]

Their Housekeeping Cleaning Services

Offices and Showrooms – Lobby, Showrooms, Boardrooms and Office Rooms

Clean glass doors and windows.

Dust all furniture and horizontal surfaces.

Dust and clean telephones

Clean and unclog drinking fountains.

Clean air vents and air grills.

Vacuuming carpet areas.

Empty trash or recycle bins.

Stripping, buffing and refinishing of floors.

Elevators, Corridors and Stairwells

Clean mirrors and windows.

Cleaning trash or recycle bins.

Clean railings and ledges.

Clean air vents and grills.

Vacuuming carpet areas.

Damp mopping on hard floors

Removal of scuff and heel marks, stripping, buffing and refinishing of floors.

Clean exterior glass

Eating Areas/Cafeterias/Kitchen areas

Damp cleaning and sanitizing tabletops and chairs.

Damp cleaning pedestals or table legs.

Cleaning interiors and exteriors of refrigerators and microwave ovens.

Cleaning and sanitizing countertops and sinks.

Cleaning trash or recycle bins.

Dusting all horizontal surfaces.

Cleaning interior glass partitions and doors.

Vacuuming carpet areas.

Damp mopping, removal of scuff and heel marks.

Stripping, buffing & refinishing of floors.

Restrooms (Bathroom) Cleaning:

Cleaning or sanitizing and washing all vitreous fixtures.

Cleaning pedestals or table legs.

Cleaning interiors and exteriors of refrigerators and microwave ovens.

Cleaning trash or recycle bins.

Cleaning and sanitizing countertops and sinks.

Cleaning walls and partitions.

Cleaning interior glass partitions and doors.

Refilling soap dispensers to normal limits.

Cleaning and unclogging drinking fountains.

Dusting horizontal surfaces.

Sweeping, damp mopping and disinfecting all floors.

Damp mopping, removal of scuff and heel marks.

Stripping, buffing and refinishing of floors.

Cleaning glass and mirrors

Facade Cleaning

High-rise glass curtain wall cleaning

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Window Cleaning:

Cleaning of all exterior and interior perimeter windows and glass partitions.

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Complete maintenance of carpets, upholsteries, fabric partitions and workstations: spot removal, deep-steam cleaning, deodorizing, scotch guards.

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All chemicals such as floor Cleaners, hard surface cleaners, glass cleaners, hand wash liquids, carpet shampoo, Upholstery Brighteners etc. are of premium quality.

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[anantradingpvtltd]

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[projectoffice5487]

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[kjack89]

For the prompts for 300 fics, some kind of angst and reconciliation fic? I know that’s vague but I’m in the mood for some angst with a happy (or not!) ending, and you’re my go to for that :)

Angst with an optional happy ending? Nonny, you know me too well.

This is part 1 of what will be either multi-chaptered or just longer once I get it on AO3, so at the moment we’re just dealing with some light angst, and who doesn’t love that on a Saturday night. Hopefully the second part will be posted in a few days.

E/R, modern AU. Former relationship.

Enjolras pulled his hood even tighter over his blond curls and glanced over his shoulder before reaching up to feel for the key hidden on top of the door jamb. He was surprised, and more than a little concerned, when his fingers touched nothing but very dusty wood, and he chanced another glance over his shoulder before rapping lightly on the door.

The door opened no more than an inch. “Password,” a gruff voice barked, and Enjolras sighed.

He really should’ve known.

“Grantaire, if you don’t let me in, I will break down the door and use one of the splintered pieces of wood to kill you,” he said, as patiently and politely as he could, just in case someone was listening.

Grantaire opened the door enough to admit him, closing it after him and locking the doorknob lock and deadbolt before sliding the chain into place. “Firstly, I’d like to see you try,” he said with a grin that Enjolras did not return. “Secondly, for future reference, the password we were looking for was ‘my full glass’, with a security question of ‘what do I believe in?’.”

Enjolras tugged off his hoodie and balled it up before tossing it onto the couch, one of the few pieces of furniture in the tiny, cramped apartment. “Would you also have accepted ‘nothing’?” he asked waspishly.

“No, but I would’ve accepted ‘absolutely fucking nothing’,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Adjectives matter.” His smile faded when he caught sight of the shiner beginning to darken around Enjolras’s left eye. “What happened?”

“Same thing that always happens,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning you have other, less visible injuries that you’re not going to do anything about until it’s too late to keep them from getting worse?” he asked dryly

Enjolras rolled his eyes and dug his phone out of his pocket to send a quick text. “What are you even doing here?” he asked, purposefully ignoring Grantaire’s question.

He didn’t see the look Grantaire gave him, but he could hear it plainly enough in his voice. “It’s a safe house,” he said. “I think that’s somewhat self-explanatory.”

“No, I mean—” Enjolras did glance up then, to examine Grantaire for an impatient second before telling him, “I didn’t even see you at the protest.”

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m pretty sure we can charitably refer to that as a riot,” he said.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked back down at his phone, which he powered off before disassembling it to remove the SIM card. “Whatever nomenclature you want to give it aside—”

“Speaking of nomenclatures,” Grantaire interrupted, “can we talk about how we’re referring to this as a safe ‘house’?” He flopped down on the couch. “This is a safe studio apartment. And I’m being generous with the term ‘studio’.”

“It’s illegal,” Enjolras informed him without looking up from his phone.

“Well no shit, this place is just plain criminal.”

Enjolras tucked his SIM card in his wallet before setting his phone down on the coffeetable. “No, I mean it was illegally built. It won’t show up on any building schematics or floorplans.”

Grantaire blinked. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning as long as you and I are in here, we don’t exist.”

Understanding flitted across Grantaire’s face. “I can see how that would have its advantages,” he murmured before glancing up at Enjolras. “Speaking of, how long do you think you and I will be staying in this lovely 250 square foot box?”

Enjolras shrugged, going to pour himself a glass of water from the tap in the corner of the apartment designated as the kitchen. “Hard to say,” he said, carrying the water over to the coffeetable and hesitating for only a moment before dropping his cellphone into it. He looked at Grantaire. “I assume you took care of any of your electronics with a GPS signal?”

“Yeah, but unlike you, seeing as how I don’t have the disposable income to just buy a new iPhone after every riot, I just left mine at home.”

“I don’t buy a new phone after every riot,” Enjolras muttered, feeling his ears burning red, and he sat down on the futon with a huff. “Only ones that ended badly and with potential criminal charges.”

“So...every riot.”

“I certainly hope you find yourself amusing enough to get through the next few days,” Enjolras said sourly. “Because we’re going to be here awhile.”

Grantaire groaned and tipped his head back to rest it against the back of the couch. “What did you do this time?” he asked, sounding resigned. “Molotov cocktail? Improvised incendiary device?” He turned his head to give Enjolras a wink. “Of course, that’s more Courfeyrac’s style than yours…”

“None of the above,” Enjolras told him, suddenly wishing he still had his phone to give him something to do with his hands. “I, uh, may have – shoved a cop.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Shoved?” he repeated. “What does shoved mean in this context?” He didn’t wait for Enjolras’s answer. “And keep in mind that I’m not a cop or a prosecutor before you decide to obfuscate or lie.”

Enjolras shrugged again. “Maybe not, but you could also be tried as an accessory if I explain further.”

“As if I wouldn’t immediately execute my fifth amendment right against self-incrimination.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Cute,” he said. “But you weren’t there.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “And it’s on them to prove that,” he said coolly.

“So you’d risk a perjury rap for me?” Enjolras asked skeptically.

Something darkened in Grantaire’s expression. “I’ve risked worse for you,” he muttered, and Enjolras looked away, feeling his face color and hating himself just a little for it.

He bit back his initial response of defensiveness, of turning the tables back on Grantaire and asking him just what, exactly, he had risked over the course of what one could charitably call a relationship and more accurately call a friends with benefits arrangement – but then again, when had they ever been friends? – but something in Grantaire’s expression stopped him.

Or maybe it was just because he was stuck with his ex for the foreseeable future, and even he knew this was a bridge not worth burning right that moment.

“A cop decided to beat up a Black girl,” he said. “She couldn’t have been more than 14, and he didn’t even bother with his baton. She was on the ground and he wouldn’t stop, so I…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I stepped in.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “So you’re looking at aggravated battery,” he mused, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s, what, a class X felony? So you’re looking at 6 to 30, unless you can plead it down.”

Enjolras made a face. “Battery’s a stretch,” he said dismissively. “I’ll probably get slapped with aggravated assault.”

“Because the state’s attorney’s office is going to take one look at your record and decide to be generous.”

Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head. “How do you know all this anyway?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I watch a lot of Law & Order reruns.” He gave Enjolras a critical look. “But potential criminal charges aside, are we just supposed to wait here with no link to the outside world until things blow over or something?”

It was Enjolras’s turn to shrug. “Or something.”

Grantaire sighed. “Great,” he said mournfully. “Well, thankfully, I was planning on quitting my job anyway, or I’d definitely be fired after this next round of no-call, no-shows.” He shoved himself up off the couch and slumped over to the small refrigerator humming ominously in the kitchen, and he opened the tiny freezer portion, pulling out a miniature ice cube tray. “That’s just pathetic,” he said, shaking his head.

Enjolras frowned. “Please don’t tell me you’re already making yourself a drink.”

“Hilarious,” Grantaire said. “But I already checked, and the only booze someone thought to stock this joint with is a couple bottles of bourbon, and I take my bourbon neat.” He cracked the ice cube tray into a ragged dishcloth, which he bundled up before carrying it over to Enjolras, holding it out for him. “This is for you, to try to keep that eye from getting worse,” he said, a little gruffly.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before taking the dishcloth-wrapped ice and holding up to his eye, wincing at the cold. 

Grantaire looked at him carefully. “I’m guessing from the way you’re sitting, you’ve also got hit in the ribs – bruised or broken?”

“I’m sure they’re just bruised,” Enjolras assured him, but judging by the look on Grantaire’s face, he didn’t believe him.

Instead, he returned to the kitchen and refilled the ice tray, placing it back in the freezer. “So what are we gonna do now?” he asked off-handedly.

Enjolras shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve never exactly been someone good at relaxing.”

Grantaire snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow, watching with his one good eye as Grantaire flopped down on the couch again. “You know, there was once a time when you would’ve given anything for it to be just you and me, alone, with no outside world for a few days.”

He had intended for it to be a funny, lighthearted memory, but he knew immediately by the way Grantaire sucked in a breath that it had landed as anything but that. They clearly weren’t to the point of joking about what they’d once had yet – if they’d ever get to that point. “Yeah, well,” Grantaire said, carefully avoiding Enjolras’s eyes, “that was a long time ago.”

Enjolras felt himself flush, but before he could offer some kind of apology, or explanation, Grantaire cleared his throat. “I think I’m just going to take a nap,” he said, still avoiding looking at Enjolras. “Riots really take it out of me.”

“Oh, right,” Enjolras said, hurrying to stand. “You can have the futon—”

“Nope, I got dibs on the couch.���

Enjolras frowned. “Take the futon,” he said. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch.”

“And I’m not going to make the person with potentially busted ribs sleep on the couch,” Grantaire shot back. “Besides, I checked out the futon before you arrived, and trust me, you’re not doing me any favors by switching.”

He said it with a sort of forced levity that told Enjolras not to push it further, so he didn’t. “If you say so,” he muttered instead, standing up and making his way over to the small pile of books stacked along one wall, hoping he could find something to keep his attention. 

By the time he returned to the futon with a novel that looked like it might do the trick – or at least make him angry enough that he’d have written a very thorough letter to the book’s publisher by the time he got out of there – Grantaire had rolled over onto his side, his back to Enjolras, ostensibly asleep.

But even though it had been a while since they had slept in the same bed, let alone the same room, Enjolras still knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was faking being asleep. And as he cracked open the book he had grabbed, he knew that Grantaire’s too-even breathing definitely indicated that he was not actually sleeping.

Which meant he preferred pretending to sleep to Enjolras’s company.

If that was any indication of how their time stuck together in the safe house was going to go, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel that they would both be very lucky if they made it out of there alive.

>>Read part 2 here>>

[heloflor]

So, given that I didn’t have much time to work on fics recently because school, I’ve decided to relieve some stress by making a random representation of how I imagine Cavendish and Dakota’s house in their time-period looks like. And since I have no plans to ever describe it in detail in a fic, here it is ! Though, given how bad I am with designs, showing the house is mostly an excuse to infodump on domestic headcanons.

Regarding the last names, I didn’t make a typo for Cav. I like to imagine the two getting married way before the events of the show, with Cav taking “Dakota” as a last name, mostly because he got several siblings in-law on the Dakota side who adopted him on the spot.

And about the representation of the house : yeah it looks like shit. Since I can’t draw, I’ve decided to do something rather quick using MSPaint but yeah, not the best thing in the world. Though, if I get back to playing the Sims 3 at some point and end up making a Dwampyverse savefile, I’ll most likely try to recreate that house and could share a few pics.

I also went with a rectangular house with one floor instead of some futuristic-looking thing, mostly because I have no imagination when it comes to design. Though, you could still use the excuse that they want something more “old-timey” given their job or that they don’t have all the money of the world so they chose a simple house for the small cost. But yeah, by the end of the day, the choice is mostly because I can’t design shit.

But still one thing in my defense : looking at episodes that take place in the future like “Missing Milo” or “First Impressions”, it seems that most buildings are square-y with the roof being the weirdly-shaped part, with B.O.T.T. being one of the few exceptions. And looking at “A Christmas Peril”, the buildings are definitely more wacky but it’s 20 years later so…

I could also mention that I’m a bit unsatisfied with how empty the living-room and the bedroom ended up being but I’m drawing a total blank when trying to come up with the kind of stuff Vinnie and Balth would have that are linked to their interests. Though, maybe the excuse of them not being often at the house works ? Idk. Let’s just say I have ideas for the “basic” stuff, aka what you find in basically every single middle-class house, but draw a complete blank for anything that’s decorative. Still posting a map of the house tho because I don’t really consider it a work in progress if I simply have no idea and may never do. I’m very bad at design so bear with me on that one ! It’s not only about the house, it’s also about the fluffy headcanons !

So here’s under the cut some random info about the look of the rooms and furniture + a bunch of headcanons regarding Vinnie and Balth’s lives in this house. For each part of the house, you first have the info about how it looks first and then the headcanons.

Those headcanons are made with the idea that Vinnie and Balth are married (duh) but also, for a few, that Vinnie has three siblings + a few in-laws that he has a good relationship with.

(very long post ahead)

General :

- They bought the house in 2162, 2 years after getting married.

- It’s in the suburbs, or at least what the future version of the suburbs would look like. In other words, the presence of a backyard is debatable.

- There could be a garage for their time vehicle, so that they don’t have to go to headquarters every single day. And if not an actual garage, there’s at least some space to put it. In both cases, it would be near the bedroom’s side of the house.

- While the walls outside would have that futuristic “metallic” look, the walls inside would be a bit warmer. At the very least, the inside isn’t “future metallic white”, especially with Vinnie having photophobia.

- The intensity of the lights in every room can be adjusted. That way, Vinnie can put the dimmest light and navigate the house without his glasses. This is mostly useful for showering and midnight snacks.

- When they went house-hunting, Balth was the one who insisted that they needed a place with those kinds of lights. This is also the same kind of lights that Vinnie had in his now-former apartment.

- You know how near the end of the episode “First Impressions” you have Balth going into Mr. Block’s office ? Well, the way the door opens in that moment is how the door opens for every room of the house, perhaps excluding the main entrance (I like the idea of their front door being an “old” one, aka the “normal” doors we have today).

- Every room would have a spot that can create “tactile panels”, like some holographic tablet that can be used to change the settings of the house, for example changing the lights or the internet or even lock the doors and blinds.

- In 2175, when they were forced to leave the future, Vinnie stole a device from B.O.T.T. that made him able to create some kind of forcefield around the house that only he and Balth can remove. So, even if they’re not there anymore, the house still is theirs and can’t be sold to anyone else. And before you ask why B.O.T.T. didn’t simply send agents to bring the duo back and force them to open the shield : the forcefield works with hand-scan detection and Vinnie convinced Balth to use their left hands, the hands with the wedding rings. So if time-agents come knocking, they could try convincing the agents to let them use the bathroom first and they could wash their hands and use the soap to remove the rings. That way, the scan wouldn’t work and the agents would have no way of knowing why.

    Living room :

- There’s more furniture than showed here like souvenirs from previous missions or some random stuff that belongs to them. I just don’t have enough imagination. : /

- Likewise, the corridor has a few pictures or posters, like pictures that Vinnie didn’t have the space to put in his memory room but still wanted to display. Also, I want to say that Vinnie would display pictures of his family (sibling, in-laws and nephews) but I’ll see him more as having an album for family pictures, or a framed picture on his nightstand.

- There could definitely be a carpet or two. They would either be modern ones to fit the fact that they’re from the future or vintage stuff found in some of their missions. One of the carpets would be under the coffee table. Another would be in the big-ass space between the living-room and the kitchen, or in the corridor.

- The style is a mix between old and new stuff, with also a few things related to their interests. Like, for example, the couch could have an animal pattern or something (AND BY THAT I DON’T MEAN REAL ANIMAL FUR).

- Speaking of the couch, after looking up “futuristic couch” on the internet, they would absolutely have one of those gigantic couches that have like a bed attached to them due to how big they are. Btw I have no idea which company came up with this design and I couldn’t care less. It’s just that the design looks cool and would fit a futuristic house.

- The side table is a floating square, given how we see in “A Christmas Peril” that tables in the future don’t have feet anymore (that’s one way to protect your toes).

- The floor lamp is more futuristic. It’s like a white orb attached to a lamp foot.

- The TV is attached to the wall. The remote is some kind of holographic tablet, kind of like the house settings thingy.

  - This is where Balth would spend most of his mornings and evenings when they stay home. He’d just be sitting with a cup of tea, most of the time also a book, with the sun illuminating the room, just feeling comfortable and peaceful. The side table/cube was bought specifically for Balth’s tea. He would also use the lamp while reading in the late evening, either for the peace of having little to no light and solely focusing on the book or as a way for Vinnie to be in the room with the lights at the lowest setting. And speaking of Vinnie, he would sometimes join his husband on the couch, lying down with his head resting on Balth’s legs (cue Vinnie falling asleep, leading to a frustrated Balth who needs to pee but doesn’t want to wake him up).

- Since there’s a mini-table for when Balth drinks tea, the table right in front of the couch is mostly used for Vinnie to rest his legs on.

- And speaking of fluffy headcanons : movie nights. From time to time, aka minimum once a month, probably more, the couple would be in their pajamas cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, with Dennis resting in Balth’s arms.

For the movie choices, Balth would choose science-fiction, especially if there are any Professor-Time-themed movies, but also historical fiction (for some reason I tend to see Balth as having a liking for history ? I think it’s because of the way he dresses + his small rant about pirates in “Game Night” ? Idk honestly. It’s mostly a random headcanon that’s here for some weird reason). As for Vinnie, it’s mostly animal documentaries (Balth falls asleep halfway through but Vinnie doesn’t notice until after it’s over) or animated/family movies (the future equivalent of D*sney, S*ny pitcures, P*xar etc. Which are movies Balth would enjoy as well). For some weird reason I’ll also see the two of them being into mystery movies (crime-solving movies basically).

And if they sometimes decide to watch other genres, I could see Balth having a liking for some romance movies, because for some reason I like the idea of Balth being sappy. Besides, the guy is passionate when it comes to proving himself at his jobs and takes them pretty seriously in order to reach his objective. And given how he can be insecure and sometimes feels like a ball of anxiety, who’s to say he isn’t passionate when it comes to love too ? And no, I don’t mean passionate as in “making out all the time”, I mean passionate as in taking relationships seriously and making it work while also wishing to make sure his partner knows that he’s loved, even if Balth isn’t really the best at expressing his affection all the time.

On a different note, to get back to other genres : Vinnie would probably like horror movies. Because if cuddling in front of a sappy movie is great, having your husband show his love and trust for you by clinging to your arm out of fear is even better, nevermind the fact that you’re as terrified as he is.

    Kitchen :

- It’s one of those kitchens with two walls of cupboards/cabinets, both on the ground and elevated. One of the cabinets is used entirely for snacks. Because Vinnie.

- The wall separating the kitchen and the living room “has a hole in it”. It’s like you have a small wall with cupboards, a hole, and a wall connected to the ceiling with a few cabinets. Basically, you look up “kitchen cupboards” and imagine that the space in-between is a hole instead of the wall (why is it so hard to explain something so simple ?).

- This would be the most futuristic-looking room of their house. Looking up at references, they’re that Pinterest post showing a room with white cabinets with round corners and what seems to be slide doors. This is pretty much how I’ll see their kitchen, except bigger, with a different wall color and with one wall not being here (see above).

- The table is floating because of course it does. The chairs don’t tho. Also the chairs are as futuristic as the rest of the room. And looking up the internet again, the chairs are shaped like chairs.

  - So I put a stove but tbh I’m not sure how much these two would cook, given how in the show they’re always seen eating out (granted they don’t have a kitchen in their ‘apartment’ in Milo’s time). And given how most things seem automatized in the future, let’s just assume that the house can do most of the cooking itself with like a robot (aka plot-convenience technology) but still needs the necessary furniture and ingredients for the recipes. Also, if there’s an issue with their cooking system, they’ll probably know a few recipes and can feed themselves (Vinnie’s oldest brother Enzie would definitely teach his younger siblings a few recipes, at least enough to survive on their own. And he would be more than happy to teach his brother in-law as well).

- I put 4 chairs at the table but honestly I could see them keep 2 at all times and put the others in the storage room, especially the times they get very busy with their job for a few weeks and don’t have the time for social life.

- At some point, Balth probably tried to convince Vinnie to have better food habits and tried to put his snacks on the higher shelves. Not only did it not work because chairs exist but also it led to Vinnie getting frustrated. So Balth dropped it. Though, he would still try to talk Vinnie into working out to stay rather healthy.

    Memories room :

- Vinnie’s personal space. He basically saw the third biggest room of the house and went “mine now” and Balth had no issue letting him have it (hard to say no when Vinnie’s eyes shine like that).

- He already had a memory room in his old apartment.

- Basically, Vinnie brings back souvenirs from his missions, along with pictures he took, and put them on display. For more information, I made a post about it a while ago, so check it out if you want info on it.

And side note : I learned more about ADHD and autism later on and found out that the correct word for Vinnie’s passion for animals is a special interest, not a hyperfixation. The main difference between the two terms is how long your interest last. The reason I used “hyperfixation” in my post is because 1. I didn’t know that “special interest” was a term that existed and 2. people with ADHD kept talking about having hyperfixations and most people see Vinnie as having ADHD. So yeah, my bad for using the wrong term. And while I won’t change the current text from my post, especially with someone in the notes correcting me (I don’t want them to look like an idiot), I’ll definitely add a few words at the end of the post about it.

 - This is where Vinnie spends most of his time when at home, trying to keep the room in the best condition.

- There’s a window in the room but Vinnie condemned it in case some of his souvenirs were sensitive to the sunlight.

- The room is made entirely of shelves, with like four-five rows on the same wall. The shelves are either integrated into the walls or they’re floating because future. In any cases, there’s nothing around the shelves, it’s just shelves with stuff on it.

- When you enter the room, one of the rows of shelves next to you has all the animal-related stuff he gathered before starting a relationship with Balth. The rest of the room can have a few animal-themed objects but the pictures tend to be more linked to him and Balth.

- Likewise, when you enter the room, on the shelf you’re immediately facing, there’s a miniature recreation of their wedding altar with their wedding picture in its center. The miniature is made out of the future equivalent of papier-mâché and the altar is themed around time-travel with objects from all kinds of time-periods and cultures. And for those who might ask regarding the picture : Vinnie has a black suit and carries the bouquet while Balth has a white suit. Both have a hat that’s basically Balth’s usual hat (with the Professor-Time goggles, because themed wedding) but colored like their respective suit.

    Balthazar’s office :

- The room has quite a few libraries but this is mostly decorations. Basically, this room is more of an 1800th century study than anything, especially a rich/royal study. Yeah, for some reason I see Balth as having an office that’s just “rich 1800th century” aesthetic. I think it’s from the headcanon of him being a runaway prince 🤔.

- So yeah. The bookcases are vintage, the piano is your usual black piano, the armchairs are vintage and tbh Balth almost never uses them because he’d rather read in the living room, and the desk is vintage, though the stuff on the desk is futuristic. Balth is up to date with the technology he’s using to work, he just likes the older aesthetic for the rest.

- On his desk, despite literally living with the guy, Balth has a framed picture of Vinnie (again, I want the stubborn gay disaster to be sappy from time to time, with his love language being small touches and attention to details like for example being able to quickly see the kinds of foods Vinnie like the most so that when he’s in a bad mood, Balth can get him that specific food to make it better ; or learning Vinnie’s body language to know when he’s upset or bothered by something).

  - Balth mostly spends his time here to make the reports on their missions or work some administration stuff when needed. When he isn’t at his desk, he’s there to play the piano.

And yes, I throw out the window that line from “Backwards to School Night” that indicates Vinnie doesn’t know about Balth playing piano but tbh I ignore or question quite a few things from this episode such as : the line indicating that Vinnie and Balth don’t live together in their time-period since Balth doesn’t know Vinnie’s weekend habits ; the line about how the ray thing age you down to 90% your current age and yet baby Vinnie seems younger than the parents despite his adult self seeming older; the fact that Melissa read a book 16 times in the span of 6 minutes ; the fact that it’s called a “age regressor ray” and not a “age regressor ray-inator” (seriously, I am the only one always expecting Vinnie to say “inator” and being disappointed when he doesn’t ?).

- The couple absolutely sing songs together with Balth playing the piano. Or at least Vinnie would sing a song in the middle of the living-room and have Balth be annoyed by it, only for Vinnie to hear Balth play the same song on the piano later and join him.

    Bathroom :

- Not much to say here. It’s a bathroom. It’s futuristic-looking. The mirror is a cabinet. The tub is round. The bin comes in and out of the wall. The clothes drier also irons the clothes. The toilet is glued to the wall. The walls are dark gray or dark blue or at least a darker color so that Vinnie doesn’t have to dim the lights to the lowest level when he’s showering. There are also several little lights along with a main one so that Vinnie can light the small ones instead of getting a headache due to the brighter light. During lazy/slow days, Balth would take baths instead of showers (and Vinnie would want to join him to make out). Balth may or may not sing in the shower (Vinnie definitely does). That’s pretty much it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

    Guest/Storage room :

- Only used as a guest room when one or several members of the Dakota family are visiting the states and end up in the Tri-State-Area. So for 90% of the time, the room is used as storage.

- Bed’s not that big and very “squary”. Might or might not be floating.

- It’s mostly random junk that they don’t know where to put and don’t want to get rid of, like some stuff they got from their missions but that Vinnie doesn’t want in his room or some old things they want to give at a garage sale or that one Professor-Time body-pillow that Balth refuses to let go of while Vinnie just wants to trash the thing. The body-pillow being in the storage room in a junkpile was their compromise on the issue. Also, whenever someone might stay in the room, Balth makes sure there’s no way they will find the body-pillow (his sister in-law Bettie would never let him live it down).

- Not much to say here either aside from that.

    Master bedroom (the room in which the proportions are way bigger than the rest of the house because I have no idea what I’m doing) :

- I described the room quickly in my fic “nightmares” but yeah basically the room has several posters and pictures related to their interests, along with a bookshelf full of animal encyclopedias, time-travel facts, history books, Professor-Time fantasy books etc. There are also albums, whether it be family pictures or album of the two of them.

- Like for the living-room, there can definitely be more than what I described/pictured here. I’m just really bad at imagining the kind of stuff people would have in their bedrooms related to their interests. And speaking of which : at some point, there was the aquarium that Vinnie mentions in “Time Out”.

- Unlike the other rooms in which the windows have roller blinds (apparently that’s the english word for it ?), this one has curtains on top of it because Balth likes to open the window in the morning but he doesn’t want Vinnie to hurt his eyes. So with curtains, he can open them enough to light the room but not enough for the light to reach Vinnie’s face.

- The bed is pretty classic for a futuristic bed but with round edges and these two idiots definitely go crazy with the sheets design (animals, food, Professor-Time, past time-periods, stuff like that). Also, the bed is “open”. By that I mean that, if you look at futuristic designs, there tends to be some roof thing above the bed and linked to it. They wouldn’t have that.

- The nightstands are floating cubes.

- “Dennis’ chair” is just some random old wooden chair where Dennis stays most of the time. Balth almost never takes him during his missions and Dennis is a comfort object that Balth mostly talks to when sitting on the bed, movie nights aside. So the bear stays in the bedroom.

- The bookshelf would also be made of wood.

- The wardrobe is futuristic, with doors that can open by themselves with sensory detection. Also, unlike what that poor “drawing” shows, the wardrobe is “taller” than it is “larger”.

- The armchair is an egg chair.

  - They sleep

- They spoon

- Balth is the big spoon because 1. he’s taller and 2. he grew up sleeping while embracing a teddy bear and old habits die hard.

- When Balth goes to sleep or wakes up, he can’t help but play with Vinnie’s hair and give the small man a few kisses, feeling satisfaction in seeing his husband smile or try to pull away while laughing.

- Vinnie sleeps on the side closest to the window while Balth sleeps on the side nearest to Dennis.

- Balth’s nightstand has an alarm clock that’s basically just a holographic square with numbers on it, while Vinnie has an album or some random animal trinket. Vinnie’s alarm clock is not feeling Balth’s warmth against him. But if Vinnie has to use an actual alarm, the sound would either be some old-fashioned song or an animal noise (is this starting to get too much insistence on the “animal-loving” side of him ?)

- While Balth likes to read in the living-room, Vinnies likes it better to chill in the bedroom when reading. Also, during weekends and vacation days, Balth would sometimes read in bed before sleeping (yeah for some reason I really like the idea of Balth being a reader. I think it has to do with him being old or british ??? Weird brain is weird. And besides, if Balth reads, it would most likely be science fiction related to Professor Time). Vinnie uses this time as an excuse to cuddle.

- They have themed pajamas. Balth mostly has Professor-Time stuff (clocks, Heinz or Perry’s faces etc) while Vinnie has mostly animal-themed or food-themed pajamas.

- Vinnie sometimes sleeps naked in the summer. Balth is still trying to figure out how he feels about that.

- Random headcanon regarding Dennis : while he belongs to Balth who keeps him close when in doubt in order to vent or when he wants to get comfortable somewhere, I actually like to believe that, between the two, Vinnie is the one who talks the most to Dennis, mostly because Vinnie would just enter the bedroom and casually greet the bear, or he and Balth would have a dumb argument and Vinnie would playfully tell Dennis “Can you believe that guy ?” while pointing at Balth. Just, Vinnie being Vinnie and having random one-sided conversations with the bear.

And a little cute thing : while Vinnie really just talked to Dennis because why not, seeing the guy like the teddy bear so much would actually make Balth feel better about himself. I like to believe that grown-up men having plushies would still be seen as a ridiculous thing by most people (because toxic masculinity) and Balth got the habit of hiding Dennis when he was still trying to find the right guy for him. So seeing Vinnie have no issue whatsoever with the teddy bear and even liking him would definitely help Balth’s confidence, along with warming his heart.

- And since this post is all about headcanons : two things about phones and these two being sappy that have nothing to do with houses.

1. One day, Balth left his phone on a table and Vinnie decided to take a selfie with it because why not. After seeing that, Balth acted frustrated but ended up putting the pic as his phone background. Ever since, Balth’s phone background is a picture of Vinnie. The most recent one is from “We’re Going to the Zoo” with a picture of Vinnie holding squirrels in his arms while a third one is coming out of his pistachios-filled pants. The pic on the phone is a closeup, only showing Vinnie’s head and upper body. And for those who like angst, I’ll let you imagine how he must have felt having this as his phone background during the rogue arc.

2. Vinnie’s (numeric) phone password is 2703, aka march 27, the date of his wedding anniversary. The day is put first and the month second because Europe. Also, during busy weeks, this would be a good way for Vinnie to remember the anniversary.

(fun fact : I was trying to come up with scenarios for fics when I ended up thinking about Vinnie’s password and that number came to mind. So I just went “guess that’s their wedding date now”)

[fleechin]

Separatory Funnel

Here’s my 2020 Portal Secret Santa for @artistyutaki, she offered a few prompts but one that I thought was interesting was Chell and GLaDOS/PotatOS hiding from Wheatley in the later chapters of Portal 2. I thought I might as well tie it into some of Chell’s thoughts about the ordeal, while also showing what Wheatley’s up to. I also noticed she was interested in the idea of computer gore, with plates and cables all over the place, so I tried to incorporate a bit of that in as well. I also threw in a tiny nod to Mel and Blue Sky since she mentioned she’s a Blue Sky fan. So this ended up being longer than I thought, and it’s my first time writing a proper fanfic of sorts, but I really hope you like this! I had a great time making it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was not the best place to be in right now. 

Not that it ever was down here, but where Chell was at this exact moment was especially not great. She didn’t complain though, it could always get worse. Actually, it usually did get worse, especially right about when she would wonder if it ever could. Perhaps it was best not to ask that question right about now. Sure, she had just fallen from a deactivated funnel and landed in a dark office whose only door was blocked by overturned desks, monitors, and furniture, which happened to be heavy enough that it’d be a pain in the back to move but for whatever reason the Portal Gun didn’t want to pick up. On the bright side, at least she didn’t fall all the way back down to the 1950s again.

Realistically though, knowing Aperture, it was bound to get worse no matter what she did. If even superstition was anywhere near reliable at this point, it would have been an improvement compared to everything else in this insane complex that somehow had only gotten stranger and more… alien-like, almost, after its founder had died of moon rock poisoning. At least the idea of a set of metal underground spheres laced with asbestos and full of half finished test chambers, the brainchild of a man proudly named Cave, was somewhat navegable. There was an understanding that if one were to see some place and travel far enough in that direction, they would eventually get to that place. If that place moved downwards in freefall, it would be because of the design of the facility, not some sarcastic supercomputer trying to keep her testing while calling her fat.

This bundle of desks, chairs and monitors was somehow all tangled up, with the wires going all over the place. It looked like she would have to either pull the whole thing at once or remove each one separately.

The recordings she heard from Cave Johnson painted a general picture, though they didn’t get awfully specific. But seeing as ground up moon rocks were all the rage down here back in those days, and hearing Cave coughing while ranting about lemons for some reason, it wasn’t difficult for her to figure out exactly how they managed to finally bring down the founder of Aperture. The real surprise? That somehow every other employee at Aperture hadn’t inhaled the stuff and keeled over. It had to have been a possibility, as there was no way that anyone smart enough to work a portal gun would have taken it upon themselves to design any part of this place without being crazy enough to consider the idea. 

This table was a lot heavier than it looked. Hopefully she could fold it over. It wasn’t exactly easy to see the parts that let the table fold on itself when it was this dark.

Could she have been one of those scientists? Chell couldn’t remember anything about herself before waking up under Her testing course, however long ago that was, or whether she was actually adopted, like every personality construct in this place seemed to think was a big deal. Any attempt at figuring out how she got down here would have to be based on guesswork. She was a test subject, which made her a likely employee at some point, though if Her insults were anything to go by, she was only a part time employee. Not committed to this job, just doing it on the side to make ends meet.

She finally managed to fold the damn table, and began to drag it out of the way.

At least that meant she wasn’t some Olympian from the 60s who got tricked into going here. Or a homeless person that got plucked off the streets of some town in Upper Michigan all for the promises of $60 at the end. She wasn’t sure how much that would be in today’s money, but wasn’t about to get optimistic. The real downside to it all was that she never would be able to figure it out. She didn’t even know how long it had been other than that it was long enough to concern Wheatley about brain damage, and even if there were information available about her and why she was here to begin with, she didn’t want to go out of her way to find it. Her main goal was getting out of here as quickly as possible, so there was no time for expositional detours. 

At most, she could stumble upon her backstory without looking for it. Figuring out what happened to Caroline was enough for one day, or however long it had been since she had last gotten some sleep. Besides, it would probably be a huge letdown anyway. Maybe she really was adopted after her birth parents considered her completely unlikeable even as a baby. Maybe her last name was something boring, like Smith. Or Jones. Maybe her name wasn’t even Chell at all. But hey, at least it wasn’t Cave. Hopefully.

Of course, she could just ask the supercomputer turned potato battery where she came from. Yes, that would be a great idea, confiding in who up until recently was her own worst enemy about a detail that She had constantly made fun of. She definitely wouldn’t take advantage of that fact and tell her all about how little Miss Chell SmithJonesWhatever couldn’t hold a single job until she came here because everyone hated her. They seemed to be on good terms now, but she wasn’t going to risk jinxing herself. Besides, she had a rule. No talking in Aperture. Nothing that any AI said was ever worth a response. 

So the lights didn’t work in this room anymore. Phenomenal.

Regardless, even though it still didn’t explain whether she was one of the employees, part time, or otherwise, who might have almost inhaled ground up rocks that cost anywhere from a TV to a house - she wasn’t about to do the math to figure anything more precise than that - it was at least clear that she had made it into Aperture under vaguely legitimate pretenses, and that they considered her smart enough to get her hands on a machine that, in the right hands, could’ve solved the world’s climate crisis by generating free energy. It was damning with faint praise.

Which just so happened to summarize the remarks from her semi edible companion. Not directed at her, for once, rather the situation at hand. Neither one of them were the most frequent of talkers, but She was more willing to comment on the situation. Funny enough, once they happened to agree with each other, Chell could reasonably rely on her as somewhat of a spokesperson. 

“After seeing what he's done to my facility, after we take over again, is it alright if I kill him?” 

Chell looked over at the glowing yellow circle, the only part of Her she could actually make out in the darkness of the room, and could only shrug her shoulders. Do whatever you want, she would have said. Frankly, as much as the two had been getting along, Chell wasn’t about to act like this was some new found friendship between the two. As far as she was concerned, the facility deserved to explode in a mushroom cloud with a giant blast radius. The bigger the better. If she was lucky, it would kill Her, Wheatley, and every other personality construct. Just as long as she wasn’t there for it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since he was connected to the mainframe, Wheatley had been trying to figure out how to work this new body. Now that his only test subject was missing, admittedly due to a mistake on his part, he could explore further. There had to at least be some way to hack the solution euphoria program. But until then, the next order of business was to redesign his lair to his own liking. Not too bad a job She did, but it didn’t quite have the Wheatley style to it. Needed a bit more work. Namely, getting rid of that stalemate button. No way that could remain. 

“Right, so, asking the announcer... voice... guy... didn’t seem to do anything.” He said out loud, “Guess he didn’t quite understand what I was getting at. Hmm, wait a minute, maybe if I go and change this setting, then- Это программное обеспечение повреждено. Удалите его и обратитесь к администратору. Aaaand, nope, still there. Hasn’t even budged a little bit. Guess that didn’t work.”

He then remembered the complexities of hacking the neurotoxin emitters and thought he might start there. “Oh, um hello, Mister button, there.” He said in an accent beyond the rage of any human’s hearing, “I’m a representative of the mechanical parts… association, and we are inviting you to a… convention! Yes, a convention, with all sorts of members, cubes, turrets, even other buttons! And we’d like to invite you! Full expenses paid, shuttle bus straight there to the convention. And there’s going to be a whole panel on buttons! Who knows, they might even have you as a guest speaker! All you have to do is head straight down to the lowest part of the facility! That’s where the bus is! Just head on down there and you’re good to go!”

The button didn’t budge. 

“Not one for conventions I guess? Perhaps you’re more of an introverted sort of button. Doesn’t mind being pressed but also fine with staying where he is.”

Wheatley, being the genius he knew he was, figured he ought to look in the old tapes to see what Her old room looked like. Ever since She had been killed, the facility had been in some disarray, of that much Wheatley was well aware. The relaxation center had taken a hit, for sure, and it seemed the rest of the facility was none the better. Wheatley wondered how long it had been, and though he probably could have figured it out, this new interface wasn’t exactly what he would have considered user friendly. 

Come to think of it, he could figure out a few things at once by going through the recordings. For one, he could figure out what Her old room looked like and what She had done about this pesky little button. Or more interestingly, how her whole room got destroyed just from being shut down, that was always a mystery there. 

All he could find were tapes, and they didn’t seem too promising. Just video feeds of the room, none of which showed if the button was there at all or what she had done with it. Maybe skipping around a bit would work, perhaps it would show something. Nothing so far…

Wait a minute now, here were the tapes of when She was killed. Yes, this was definitely the same test subject all right. Silent as always, she was. Maybe her brain damage was pre-existing.

Well this was concerning. Neither neurotoxin nor the built in rocket turret defense station was enough to even faze her. All that nameless lunatic needed were a couple of seemingly easy portals and in less than the required six minutes She was dead. 

If that silent test subject was still alive, she could find any flaw in his lair design and it’d be bye bye Wheatley. 

First immediate order of business, no portal surfaces anywhere in the lair. That shouldn’t be too hard, just meant he would have to move some panels around. There, piece of cake, only a few panels detached and falling off. That was probably normal.

“Right, no portal surfaces anywhere. Check that off the list. Ding! Next we can- OW! Great, another panel just went and fell right out of the ceiling. Hit me right in the… to be honest I’m not sure what this part of me even is. Doesn’t really look like it does anything useful. Tell you what, how about I take this part off, don’t really need it do we? Won’t be hurting anymore, I imagine. Here we go, unscrewing… and done!”

The offending plate came off of his right side, pulling down several attached cables right out of their sockets, leaving them to dangle around and coil around the floor like snakes. Snakes that occasionally gave out electrical sparks. That probably existed somewhere in nature. Electric snakes. Maybe unicrons ate them. Wheatley made a mental note to look that up, right after learning how to play cards. 

“OK, wow that was actually pretty painful. Guess they don’t simulate any anaesthetic in this thing. Aaand now the lights are flickering on and off. Those are the lights, right? The flashlight doesn’t seem to be helping, so maybe I killed that too. That’s probably normal. Happens sometimes. That’ll probably fix itself.”

In the meantime, he at least had time to see what else was in Her old archives. Maybe there was a guide to fixing whatever was going on. Nope, nothing there. He did find an old security protocol system. Aperture Employee Guardian and Intrusion System, it was called. Interesting, that could help make sure she never got anywhere near his lair. Wait, no, that system was shut down locally. Before She went back online even. Odd, not clear who did that. What else was there… Oh, hang on a minute. The Cooperative Testing Initiative. That sounded useful. Wheatley kept reading. 

Yes, these two little bots seemed to be the fix for everything. As soon as he could he had one of each type assembled and sent straight up to his lair. 

“Hello! Right, so I understand you guys are built for testing, and what have you. So, I have selected you two to be my next testers. I need a few favors from you two though. See those cables down there? The ones that are kind of sparking there a bit? Those? Yeah, ever since I unhooked those, the lights have been flickering on and off.”

Blue looked at Orange, somewhat confused.

“You guys don’t see it? Wait, it just happened again real quick right there.”

Orange shook its head.

“So that might just be my optic sputtering out then. Yeah, that’s not great. Either way, I need you guys to try and get those back into me so I can see again. Now you might be wondering why I can’t just use those grabbers of mine and do it myself? Turns out, if I ever try to fix myself without someone else to help out, I’ll die. So you guys will have to do it for me.”

They both suddenly appeared nervous, and Blue slowly approached the bundle of wires. They sent out a spark and they both flinched. Upon reaching the wire, Blue picked up the first one, which went back in without a hitch. The second one was still going through the exterior plate that Wheatley had just unscrewed off. Pulling it as hard as possible didn’t work. Orange, annoyed, went up and pushed Blue out of the way, then slowly pulled out the cable and stuck it back in. By now the flickering was still happening, but only in randomly appearing colors.

“Great! OK now just one more to go! Home stretch!”

Orange was ready to pick up the last cable, but Blue, unrelenting, snatched it out of Orange’s grasp, and emphatically plugged it in. And then the flickering stopped.

“You did it! Bingo! Oh, man alive, that’s much better. Aaand now it seems you guys are knocking each other’s heads out of their… socket, things, whatever they’re called. Not really getting anything productive out of that, besides I kinda need you guys for something else.”

Neither Blue nor Orange were hearing it though. Once they had decided to play the classic game of Knock the Other Bot’s Head Off, there was little that could stop the competition. For personality constructs designed to get along, they did this a lot.

“Ahem, knock knock, anybody there?!”

It was getting heated. Now Blue was running around with Orange’s head, Orange’s body trying to chase after it but only managing to flail around miserably due to lack of eyes.

“ENOUGH!”

Wheatley hadn’t had an outburst like that in a while. It was a little easier when his only test subject and her potato weren’t driving him up the wall smashing his monitors and not giving him the relief when he wanted it. But the lack of test solution euphoria was starting to make its presence known once more, and it made him impatient as ever. Both bots stopped to look over, then Orange snatched its head and put it back on, glancing angrily at Blue.

“You know, there are bots in orphanages that don't even have heads to steal. Maybe think about how lucky you two are and stop fiddling around like that, yeah?”

They both looked at each other, shrugged the mechanical equivalent of their shoulders and gave each other a quick hug. Wheatley didn’t understand how they could forgive each other so quickly, but he wasn't about to object.

“Right, so, what I need you guys to do is see if we can find any neurotoxin reserves. Ever since I hacked the main factory, genius, I know; we haven’t had any neurotoxin to dispense. So I’m building you a testing course that should lead to where the neurotoxin facility was to see if you can find any clues. Alright, Go team!”

Several panels cleared out of the way to reveal two elevators facing each other, one blue and one orange. The bots looked at each other before taking off and heading to the disassembly machines. In less than a minute they had reached the first test, a simple introductory course with a laser and a redirection cube. And no test of Wheatley’s would be complete without his signature, the word TEST written in lights on the wall. 

These two were smart enough to have figured out how to solve it rather quickly, and Wheatley immediately felt the rush of solution euphoria. Whether it was the amount of time since he had last felt it or because he was testing new subjects, this felt much better than the last few tests he had gotten his other subject to try. Now he could focus on the text task, seeing if there was a trap he could build, just in case those two weren’t dead. Getting rid of the button would have to wait. Maybe if they found some turrets or explosives to keep anyone from reaching it, that could work as a solution. For a little while at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having cleared out all the tables, chairs, and any other debris lying around in what was once an office, Chell could finally get through to the other side and out the door. And the potato on her gun had done a great job at keeping her company. 

“Oh good, now we can get going again. Maybe we can find a way out of here.”

Chell picked up the portal gun and made her way out of the office. To her disappointment, the walkway just led down to the entryway to another test.

“Great, it looks like we’ll need to keep testing a little while longer. And I’m not sure we have that much more time left. Look on the bright side though. Maybe we’ll get to see more of that moron’s inventions. Maybe he’s gotten so desperate he’ll have tried to fuse a turret with a redirection cube and give it laser eyes.”

Chell couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. She resented that Wheatley had become like this, and somewhat missed him in a way, but it was nice to occasionally poke fun at his less than amazing intelligence.

“If a defective turret and a pile of trash had a baby, he would make an excellent pet for that baby.”

Chell’s smile grew slightly bigger and she chuckled silently. It was kind of nice to hear Her jokes while not also being the recipient. The classic insults thrown her way, that she was fat, adopted, unlikeable; those didn’t work on her at all. But they were at least well crafted, almost stand-up quality, though she never would have admitted that. Despite being a murderous former supercomputer with zero conscience up until this point, she did have a bit of a knack for humor. Chell would at least miss that when she left this place.

This was the end of the walkway, and Chell jumped down; her testing break was over. It was going to get tough before she finally did make it out of here.

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 321

THE BENEFICIAL EFFECTS OF LIGHTNING: Part 2

NEGATIVE IONS

Refreshing places, usually located in the mountains and near waterfalls and seashores, where health resorts are traditionally situated, have high negative ion concentrations. Areas with high levels of positive ions often make us feel uncomfortable and irritable.

In addition to providing a rewarding visual experience, waterfalls may be beneficial to our health. Those wishing to enhance their body and mind through breathing exercises should do so by a waterfall. Nearly everyone agrees that visiting a waterfall is a stimulating, refreshing, and energizing experience.

The energy produced by falling water causes negative ions, for as the falling water breaks into droplets, electrons (negatively charged parts of an atom) are separated from water atoms. These electrons combine with oxygen atoms in the air to create negative ions, which then are inhaled and absorbed into the bloodstream. Negative ions are not known to permanently cure anything. However, experts believe that they help our bodies by accelerating the delivery of oxygen to our cells. Some researchers believe that they may stimulate cells that regulate the body's resistance to disease.

Plants grown in an ion-enhanced atmosphere show a marked increase in size and growth rate. Air-borne bacteria greatly diminish in number when there is a high negative ion count in the air. Synthetic materials, forced air circulation, improper humidity levels, excess static electricity, and a lack of fresh air all contribute to an ion imbalance. Natural negative ion levels should be maintained through full-spectrum lighting; natural materials on walls, floors, and furniture; windows that open to the outside; and living plants. These should be kept in mind when designing a place in which to live.

On average, 1,500 ions are found in a cubic centimeter (roughly the size of a sugar cube) of fresh air. Of these, about 45% are negative ions and the rest are positive ions. At Yosemite Falls in California, a reading of 100,000 negative air ions per cubic centimeter was recorded.

The fresh air after a thunderstorm, on a mountain top, or by the seaside are due to high negative ion concentrations. The reduced well-being often felt in highly polluted areas, cars, smog-enclosed areas, artificially air conditioned offices, or in hot dry weather conditions are usually due to an unduly low negative ion balance. Negative ions can be found in the billions on mountain tops, waterfalls, and by the sea. Radioactive substances in Earth's crust and cosmic rays cause most ionization. But fire, crashing water, and plants during photosynthesis also produce negative ions. They give the air its invigorating freshness, which is so good for us.

Physiologically, the presence of negative ions in a sweat bath is as important as the heat. The discovery of negative ions in certain types of saunas a few years ago became headline news in Finland. Until then, the sauna's healing power was attributed to relaxation and increased circulation. Now, negative ions add startling new possibilities.

IONS AND OUR MODERN LIFESTYLE

We now live in an environment that virtually eliminates negative ions. Rural areas have a higher concentration of ions, but many of us live in towns and cities that have very low levels due to dirt and pollution. Pollution from car exhaust, smoking, overcrowding, and even breathing all contribute to this.

Modern vehicles have many problems. For example, opening a window lets in polluted city air. Many drivers, especially long-distance ones, keep an ionizer in their vehicle to help them maintain a high level of alertness and concentration. In addition, this can relieve car sickness and remove pollen and smoke. In cities, closed rooms, cars and elsewhere, the proportion of negative ions is markedly reduced compared to what it is in undisturbed nature. According to experts, positive ions rob us of our good senses and dispositions, while negative ions enhance them, stimulating everything from plant growth to overall bodily well-being. In general, people who are sensitive to air-borne allergens will benefit far more and quicker from the cleansing action of negative ions.

A second potentially important factor is the person's body voltage, for a high body voltage could alter considerably the ion ingestion rate. Perhaps the same effect as positive ion enhancement could be produced by a high negative body potential, even if the ambient air ion concentrations are balanced. Control and reduction of bodily voltage to a near-zero condition should reduce any such effects and restore ion ingestion due to the ambient air ion balance condition. For Muslims, body voltage to a near-zero condition is achieved when they prostrate during prayer.

Ironically, even today's air-conditioned buildings, vehicles, and airplanes frequently become supercharged with harmful positive ions because the plastic and metal fans, filters, and air-conditioning duct systems strip the air of negative ions even before it reaches its destination. In addition, fluorescent lighting, electrical and electronic equipment, television screens, and static-producing as well as artificial fibers in carpets, clothes, and upholstery, all reduce the level of negative ions and increase the level of positive ions.

Desktop PCs have a cathode ray tube monitor that produces a positive static charge during normal operation. It also sweeps the nearby air of negative charges, depleting the negative-ion concentration in the immediate vicinity. Apparently when ion concentration is lowered by this or any other means, such as air conditioning, workers complain of headaches, lethargy, dizziness, and nausea. Tests conducted in England indicate that the more complex the task a person tries, the more he or she is affected by negative ion levels. Also, women are more responsive than men to negative ion depletion or enrichment.

The graph below provides some average sample readings of negative air ions taken in various locations. Note that the body responds to levels above 1,000 ions per cc.

[etrey]

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[alj4890]

A Second Chance

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda)

A/N Weeks have gone by. The paternity results are in and Thomas has now taken Amanda to his attorney’s office to finish changing Kathleen’s last name to Hunt along with making her the heir to his fortune. He decides to take a chance and asks Amanda to go out to dinner. Just the two of them.

@lxaah11​​ @alleksa16​​ @penguininapinktuxedo​​ @blackcoffee85​​ @stopforamoment​​  @hopefulmoonobject​​   @krsnlove​​   @annekebbphotography​​ @hopelessromantic1352​ . @sunflowergirl05​  @desireepow-1986​ @greywitchyshots​​ @lilyofchoices​​​ @moodyvalentinestories​​ @emceesynonymroll​​ @my-heart-beats-for-ya​​ @aworldoffandoms​​ @ab1901​​  @flyawayboo​​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​ . @trappedinfandoms​​  @kate-mckenzie​​ @cordoniaqueensworld​​ @everythingmarvelsherlockspn​

Masterlist

Catch up here with Chapter 5

Chapter 6

"And sign here." Myles pointed toward the necessary spaces.

Thomas finished signing his name then passed it to Amanda.

She signed under his name.

The attorney leaned back in his chair and explained the new will and trust Thomas had created for Kathleen.

Thomas half listened as he thought of what the last few weeks in California had been like. Having Kathleen and Amanda living in his home had been eye opening. Uninterrupted time with his daughter had strengthened the bond between them.

Once Kathleen had chosen her bedroom; he had removed all the furniture and taken her shopping. Amanda had gone along, smiling often at the two of them as they debated possible furniture and décor. He bought everything that Kathleen liked. He even strung twinkle lights across the ceiling, replaced the simple drapes with ruffled pink curtains, and bought a menagerie of stuffed animals to fill it with. Her first night with all her new things had been one of celebration.

She asked if the three of them could have dinner in there and then watch a movie.

Thomas never thought the day would come where he would be sitting in a pillow fort, eating Chinese takeout, and watching Tangled. Yet here he was loving every moment.

His gaze cut to Amanda as Myles handed her the paperwork with Thomas now legally Kathleen's father. Once the paternity test had come back revealing she was his, he had pushed his lawyer to get her last name and his will changed as quickly as possible.

Amanda had been supportive of his decision. Kathleen was thrilled that she now had his name and practiced writing it out on the little chalkboard he had bought her.

The only thing that could make this better for Thomas would be if Amanda's last name was also legally changed to his.

Living with her had shown him how deeply in love he was. When Kathleen went to bed at night, he would entice Amanda to remain with him to either watch a movie or go for a swim.

He used those moments to find out all he could about her without pushing her into a romantic relationship.

He wanted her. His desire for her had only grown stronger. He did not want one night with her. He wanted the rest of her life.

He wanted to marry her. Finally have her as his.

Finally have his family.

He suspected she might feel something for him. He would catch her looking at him, almost like she did all those years ago when they were dating.

Yet there was something else there in her eyes. Her smile was warmer each time he did something sweet for her or Kathleen.

She had become more relaxed around him. Amanda had stopped shying away from touching him. There had been a few times as they watched Kathleen playing or coloring that she would quietly slip her arm around his waist.

But he wanted more. These sweet in between moments could be the norm while they took the next step. He knew how affectionate she was when in love. Thomas intended to have it all for himself.

He just did not know how to broach the subject.

"And that's it." Myles said.

Thomas blinked and refocused. "Everything's set?"

"It is." He smiled at the two. "Ms. Hunt will have no financial worries." He glanced at his watch and apologized for having to rush out to another meeting. He told them to call if any other concerns came to mind.

Amanda reached across the table for Thomas's hand. He turned to her once Myles left the conference room.

"Thank you for this." She said, rubbing her thumb over the top of his hand. "It isn't the money, but knowing that in the eyes of the world, Kathleen is your daughter."

He gripped her hand. "I know you say that you don't need child support, but I would like to have a part in caring for her, paying for whatever she needs."

"I understand." She let go of his hand and stood up. "Shall we?"

He stood up and took her hand again as she passed by, tugging her close. Her eyebrow lifted in question.

"How would you like to go to dinner tonight?" He asked.

"My schedule is so busy," she teased, "I'm not sure if I can join you and Kathleen this evening."

He smiled. "I meant just us." He lowered his eyes to their clasped hands. "It's been a long time since you and I went out. I'm sure Rachel and Stephen will watch Kathleen."

Amanda laughed at the thought. When Thomas had told his sister about Kathleen being in his home, she and her husband Stephen had shown up that very night.

Unlike Holly and Addison, Rachel had understood why Amanda had kept Kathleen a secret from all of them that were close to Thomas.

"You were wise not to trust us to keep our mouths closed." Rachel said one night. "We all would have flayed him alive with our tempers." She then added that if they had been told though, the misunderstandings could have been rectified so much sooner.

She and Stephen immediately fell under Kathleen's spell. The little girl in turn adored the two that were her new relatives. They took her out every day for special aunt/uncle/niece time. In other words, they spoiled her every chance they got.

Holly and Addison, along with Matt and Ryan, also accepted the little girl as their own. They could hardly get over the fact that Thomas was not only a father but that he had eased into the role without any difficulty.

The four along with Rachel and Stephen watched the family of three closely, especially Thomas and Amanda. They knew how he had pined for years for the duchess. Now that the two had a reason to see each other on a regular basis, the group wanted to see them together as they should be: a couple.

"How about it?" Thomas repeated. "A night out without a children's menu?"

She laughed and shook her head at the menu joke. "That sounds nice."

"I'm taking that as a yes." He put his hand at her back and guided her toward the elevators. "I'll make the reservations and pick you up around seven."

"Pick me up?" She teased. "My, we really are going all out with this dinner."

Thomas couldn't quite contain his smile. "It isn't every night I get to have you to myself."

Amanda felt her heart triple in beat. Did he mean that in a romantic sense or a platonic one? He probably only wanted a night out as an adult and was merely offering her the same as a friendly gesture.

As much as she tried to deny it, she felt that old love for him stirring to life more and more as time went on. His obvious love and care for Kathleen touched her aching heart in ways she had not anticipated.

She loved seeing him so uncertain yet trying to make his home special for their daughter. Seeing him agree to every little whim Kathleen had, made her smile at the sheer sweetness.

Then the little things he did for Amanda made her fall even more in love. He remembered things from their past that astounded her. He surprised her one evening with her favorite meal from a local Mexican restaurant. He had all her favorite classic movies on hand, explaining to Kathleen how he had developed a new love of many of them due to her mother. He had restocked his pantry with her English Breakfast tea bags and brown sugar cubes. Every gesture chipped away at the wall she had erected around her heart.

Their conversations at night caused a longing in her that life could be like this. Being with him while their child was tucked safe and content in her bed, it was her old dream, the very one she had tried to forget.

How could she though when he was all that she had ever wanted?

**************

"Which do you think?" Thomas held up two blazers.

Kathleen tilted her head as she studied the navy blue and then the charcoal gray. She was sitting in the middle of his bed amid a variety of dress shirts. "I like that one." She pointed at the gray. "And I like this shirt." She held up the black.

"Perfect." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You have quite the eye for color coordination."

"I have two." She scrunched her shoulders with a giggle.

"I am very grateful for that." He replied with a smile. "Now then, anything else you can think of that I should do to make the night special for your mother?"

Kathleen propped her head on her hand as she thought. "Flowers. Mommy loved the ones you brought for my birthday."

"I can't believe I forgot about that." He muttered. He made a quick phone call and ordered a bouquet of tulips. "Anything else?"

Her little brow furrowed in thought. "Uncle Max said that she loves to dance but she doesn't do it anymore."

"Then I suppose it is up to me to remedy that." He wrote that idea down. "You have been a tremendous help."

Kathleen plucked at his bedspread. "Daddy?"

"Hmm?" He went into his closet to choose a tie.

"I'm a Hunt and you're a Hunt." She squirmed a little. "But Mommy's not."

He paused in his search. "No, she isn't." He saw the unhappiness on her little face and went to her. "What's wrong?"

"Mommy isn't part of the family." She whispered with a sniff.

He knelt beside his bed and took her hands in his. "Yes, she is."

"But she's still a Bridgerton." Kathleen pointed out. "Can't she be a Hunt too?"

"She can." He replied. "I plan on doing all I can to make her want to be one." He smoothed her hair out of her eyes. "It is up to her if and when she wants to change her last name."

Her eyes widened. “Are you going to marry her?”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. “Whatever your mother wants, I am going to do.” He held his daughter’s hands. “As soon as the moment is right, I will ask your mother to marry me.”

"So, we can be a family?" Kathleen asked excitedly.

"We are a family." He stressed once more. "We simply are one with two different last names at the moment." He picked her up and hugged her tight. "Why don't you go choose some movies to watch with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Stephen? I need to start getting ready."

"Okay." She hugged him once more then skipped out of his room.

***************

Stephen let out a low whistle when Thomas came downstairs.

He glared at his sister and brother-in-law when they let out a couple of catcalls. "Where's Kathleen?"

"In the kitchen with Amanda." Rachel grinned when he immediately went in that direction.

He paused in the kitchen doorway and watched the two.

Kathleen was sitting on the counter, giggling while Amanda spoke with a funny accent.

"These cookies are mine! No one else shall have them." Amanda pretended to sneak away with the tray she had removed from the oven.

"Mommy!" Kathleen gasped between her laughter.

Amanda turned around and brought them back over. Her own smile was bright at hearing her daughter's sweet laugh. "Be sure to share with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Stephen."

"I will." She promised. Kathleen looked up and called out to Thomas. "Do you want a cookie, Daddy?"

"No thank you." He joined them and helped lift Kathleen off the counter.

Amanda paused halfway in placing the cookies on a plate. Her eyes drifted down Thomas in his dark gray suit and black dress shirt. His tan skin and jet-black hair seemed even more noticeable...even more handsome. "You look nice."

He smiled softly as his eyes touched on her figure. "Thank you. I've always thought you looked beautiful in red."

Amanda nervously smoothed her short skirt. "Thank you."

She handed the plate to Kathleen and watched her carefully carry it into the living room.

Thomas stepped closer to Amanda. "I've been looking forward to tonight."

She finished wiping her hands while a smile played about her lips. "Oh?"

He nodded. "Are you ready to go?"

She looked down at herself. "I think so, unless you think I should wear something else?"

"You look perfect." He took her hand and pulled her along behind him.

Kathleen was snuggled between Rachel and Stephen on the couch. She waved  goodbye to them while eating a cookie.

"Have a good time." Rachel told them as she walked them to the door. "And don't hurry home."

************

71Above, Los Angeles...

"I forgot how much attention you draw when out." Amanda teased when they were seated at their table.

He frowned slightly at the people whispering and pointing. "So did I. I don't know why they do so."

She chuckled and picked up her menu. "It couldn't have anything to do with your handsome looks or immense talent."

He shook his head in exasperation and turned his attention back to her. "Would you like to go somewhere else?"

"We can if you wish." She said. "I can ignore them."

His eyes touched on how she looked in the soft light reflected from L.A.'s skyline. He was not quite ready to abandon the romantic restaurant because of a few nosy patrons. "I can ignore them too."

Her smile was warm as she lowered her eyes.

Thomas set out to charm her. Every story, every bit of flirty teasing, every brush of his fingers against her hand; it all had one purpose. He wanted her to fall in love with him again.

Amanda's cheeks were a touch pink under his steady gaze. She would often lower her lashes while smiling with his flirting. He had forgotten how those mannerisms used to encourage his attempts in romancing her.

He began to feel confident in his efforts with her leaving her hand in his and the almost permanent smile on her face. Once dinner was over, he took her to the next planned part of their evening.

"Aren't we going home?" Amanda asked when he drove on into the city.

"Kathleen shared an observation with me." He answered. "I thought it was time to try again."

Amanda lifted an eyebrow at his attempt at being mysterious. "Care to share what that observation was?"

"I think I'd rather leave it a surprise." He chuckled when she groaned.

"I think you've forgotten how little I like surprises." She huffed while folding her arms.

"I haven't forgotten." He told her.

"Ah, so you've resorted to torture now on your evenings out." She shook her head in mock disappointment. "Shame on you, Mr. Hunt."

Thomas couldn't quite wipe the smile off his face at her teasing. It was reminiscent of how things once had been between them. He missed having that. She was one if not the only one that brought out that playful side of his personality.

"A night club?" Amanda said in disbelief when he parked the car. "This is what Kathleen suggested?"

"She merely shared that Maxwell had told her how much you loved to dance and that you haven't done so in a very long time." He explained.

Her brow furrowed with that observation. "I don't think I've been dancing since that trip you and I took to Cabo."

He paused as memories of that vacation came to mind. That was a month or two before they-- "Amanda? Was Kathleen conceived during that trip?"

Her eyes widened as she quickly did the math. "She must have been! We were there at the end of December and I had her in September."

He placed his arm around her waist. He remembered that trip well. It had been a series of one romantic moment after another. Knowing that Kathleen was created during such a time made it seem all the more significant.

"What are you thinking about?" Amanda asked when he remained silent.

Thomas lowered his eyes to her. "That night we spent on the yacht in Cabo."

She didn't know how to respond. That night was one that she had never been able to forget. It had been one of the most romantic of her life. One of the most passionate.

He pulled her closer to his side once they were in the club. The place was crowded, and music blared from the speakers. They both cringed from the strobe light and the vibrations from the bass.

Amanda rose on her toes to speak in his ear. "Let's get out of here."

He began to shake his head, determined to take her dancing.

She laced her fingers with his and pulled him out of the building.

"Amanda, I don't mind--"

"I think I've outgrown the club scene." She explained. Her smile was warm as she stepped closer, raising her hands to his crooked tie. "I prefer being out with you in places where I can actually hear what you say."

His lips curved softly. He set his hands on her waist as she worked on his tie, tempted to pull her flush to his body. "So do I." He took her hand and led her back to his car. "One more place to go that I think might make up for this."

"Thomas, there isn't any need to--" her breath caught when he placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her between him and the car. Amanda lifted her eyes to his, wondering what he was going to do. Hoping he might...she stopped thinking. "You have already given me a wonderful night out."

He leaned closer to her. "I want this night to be special."

She swallowed and tried to keep from focusing on his mouth. "It has been."

He stepped away from her and opened her door. "If you don't care for our last stop then I will take you home."

She almost reached out to pull him back to her. "Okay."

He smiled a touch proudly when he heard the slight intake of her breath once more. He got in on his side of the car and drove off.

A short time later they were walking along the docks.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with our remembering Cabo, would it?" She teased when they stood before his yacht.

"I actually had this planned before that memory was brought to mind." He helped her aboard and followed after her.

He opened the door to the main saloon.

Her lips parted in surprise. A bouquet of tulips sat beside a bottle of champagne resting in an ice bucket on a table near the couch. A glass covered tray was set on another end table holding various desserts.

"Someone is going to a great deal of trouble." She teased when soft music drifted through the surround sound speakers.

He pulled her into a slow dance. "This? No trouble at all."

She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he swayed with her to the beat. Amanda closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to drop all the cautious barriers she had placed around her heart so that she could enjoy being in his arms once more.

Thomas set her other hand on his shoulder and wrapped both his arms around her. When she raised her head, their eyes met before lowering to the other's lips.

He waited on her to make the first move. He needed her to be the one to make the decision on giving him a second chance. He briefly closed his eyes when her fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Their bodies were brushing against the other's as the tension built between the few inches that separated their parted lips.

She pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Thank you for taking me out." A self-depreciating smile formed. "I haven't had a night out on the town in a very long time."

"Thank you for accepting." He murmured, keeping his gaze on her mouth.

She tried to ignore the need to kiss him. Ignore the need to see if it was like it once had been. Feel that electric tingle across her skin.

She knew it was foolish to play with this type of fire. She had resolved to never again take a chance on love. Kathleen was to never suffer from her decisions.

Amanda had vowed to be single for the rest of her life the week after Kathleen's birth. She knew she could never have some man have a say in her daughter’s upbringing.

But Thomas was not some random man. He was the father of her child. He was innocent of all the previously thought wrongdoings.

He was here, right where she had once hoped he would be. Thomas was showing her the type of attention she had once craved so long ago.

What if she gave in to his wish and tried a romantic relationship again? What if it ended horribly?

What if it didn't?

She hesitated and lifted her eyes to his.

Thomas saw all her vulnerable uncertainty in the hazel depths. He knew he should stick to his plan and admit he was more in love with her than he had ever been once they were in Cordonia. He believed he needed her to see how he could fit into her life there as well as anywhere else.

But he did not think he could wait any longer.

"I'm in lo--" his phone rang.

He pulled it out of his coat’s interior pocket. "It's Rachel."

Amanda's eyes widened. "Kathleen? Do you think she's--"

Thomas quickly answered.

"We need you to come home." Stephen explained. "Kathleen became sick and has been crying for Amanda."

She snatched the phone out of Thomas's hand. "What happened?"

"She was fine, playing, then complained about her stomach hurting. Next thing we knew, she ran to the bathroom and threw up." Stephen's voice sounded strained. "She began to cry which caused her to throw up again."

"I'm on my way." Amanda swiftly left the saloon and hurried off the yacht.

Thomas chased after her. "Amanda, wait a mo--"

"I don't have a moment!" Amanda snapped. Her stiletto heel got stuck in one of the slits on the dock. Her foot came completely out of her shoe.

Thomas knelt and pried it loose, slipping it back on her foot. "Everything is going to be fine."

"My daughter is sick." Amanda said in a disapproving tone. "I shouldn't have gone out."

"She probably ate too many cookies." Thomas tried to make her see reason.

"I don't care what caused it." Amanda cursed when she stumbled over another plank.

Thomas caught her before she hit the dock and pulled her close. He gently tilted her chin up. "I will get us home as fast as I can."

Her frown eased. "Thank you." She held onto his arm as they made their way off the dock.

***************

Amanda hurried upstairs as Rachel told all that had happened.

"I gave her another bath." Rachel followed closely at her heels. "She threw up all over her pajamas when she started crying."

"Poor angel." Amanda mumbled. She stepped into Kathleen's bedroom and went straight to her bed.

"Mommy." Kathleen reached out for her.

Amanda sat down beside her and held her close. "Shh, it's okay." She gently rubbed her back. "I'm here." She thanked Rachel for taking care of her.

Thomas paused in the doorway as his sister left the room. "Is there anything I can do?"

"She will need some electrolytes. Anything like Gatorade or Pedialyte." Amanda replied. "And possibly some popsicles."

“Orange.” Kathleen mumbled as she curled up in her mother’s lap. “I only like orange ones to drink.”

“Orange electrolytes and cherry popsicles.” Amanda told him.

“I’ll take care of it.” Thomas promised. He quickly left the room and told his sister where he was going.

“We’ll go for you.” Stephen offered. “That way you can help if Amanda needs anything.”

Thomas thanked them. He wrote down what Kathleen liked and gave them money. They ignored his money and took the list, leaving him uncertain with what he should do now.

************

Once he was gone, Amanda settled Kathleen back in her bed. She remained sitting beside her daughter with her back to the headboard.

Kathleen moved her head to Amanda's lap. "Will you sing the song?"

Her mother's lips curved softly as she gently ran her fingers through Kathleen's hair. "Of course."

Thomas paused in the hallway when he heard Amanda singing. He recalled that she was not known by friends and loved ones for having a good singing voice. But something about this particular song and the way she kept her voice low seemed soothing. He quietly approached the bedroom and watched the two.

Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky

Stormy weather

Since my gal and I ain't together

Keeps raining all the time

Life is bare. Gloom and misery everywhere

Stormy weather

Just can't get my poor self together

I'm weary all the time, the time

So weary all the time

Kathleen had a smile on her face as her eyes drooped closed. Her favorite part of the song was coming up.

When she went away the blues walked in and met me

If she stays away, that old rockin' chair gonna get me

All I do is pray the Lord above will let me

Walk in the sun once more,

Can't go on, everything is gone

Stormy weather

Since my gal and I ain't together

Keeps rainin' all the time

Keeps rainin' all the time

Kathleen yawned and snuggled closer. Thomas stepped in when Amanda paused in singing. He quietly told her that Rachel and Stephen went shopping for them. He then went into Kathleen’s bathroom and retrieved a cool, damp rag when Amanda asked him to get one.

She gently placed the rag on Kathleen's forehead, still humming Stormy Weather.

Thomas sat down in a padded rocker, observing the two.

Amanda carefully moved Kathleen to her pillow once she was asleep.

He followed her out of the bedroom and across the hallway to her room. "Is there anything else we need to do?"

"I'm going to change clothes and sit up with her for a few more hours." Amanda explained, stepping inside her room. She hesitated then looked up at him. "Feel free to get some rest. I'm used to doing this on my own whenever she is ill."

His lips firmed in a slight frown when she gathered some comfortable clothes and went into the bathroom to change. He loosened his tie and went to his own bedroom.

Amanda returned to Kathleen's room and rewet the rag, placing it back on her head.

She sat down once more on the bed and hummed when Kathleen moved restlessly and whimpered.

Thomas returned in a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt. He took his spot in the rocker once more.

"You don't have to be here." Amanda whispered, surprised to see him again.

"Yes, I do." He whispered back. "I have to be here for you." He paused. "Both of you."

She lowered her eyes and resumed gently running her fingers through her daughter's hair in soothing repetitions.

"Why Stormy Weather?" He asked softly.

Amanda's lips turned up in a smile. "I listened to Frank Sinatra albums throughout most of my pregnancy. One night, a month after Kathleen's birth, she cried for hours, fighting sleep. I tried everything to calm her down. Eventually, pacing and singing his rendition of Stormy Weather helped her fall asleep. It worked each time after that, and she now claims it as the song. She usually likes it sung whenever she is sick."

Thomas softly chuckled. "She would appreciate the classics."

Amanda nodded, laughing. "She loves his singing."

His smile was tender. "She got that from you. If I remember correctly, you once said you would have had a hard time not melting if you had been one of the women in the movies he sung to."

Amanda shook her head at her own foolishness. "I was born in the wrong time period."

He stood up and stretched. "Let's sit over there." He whispered when he noticed her shift, trying to get comfortable on the small bed.

Amanda followed him over to the loveseat that Kathleen had chosen for her movie corner in her room. They sat down and remained quiet as they watched Kathleen sleep.

He set his arm along the back of the couch and urged Amanda closer. She glanced down when his other hand held hers and felt that old stirring of memories. There had been a number of times when she was taking care of Kathleen that she had wished he had been there comforting her as she worried over every little thing.

She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling a calmness come over her just by having him by her side.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, letting them linger there.

After an hour, she fell asleep, turning more in his arms. He repositioned her and held her close. Thomas covered the two of them with one of the fuzzy blankets that was nearby.

He lowered his head to kiss the top of hers once more. He closed his eyes, feeling grateful to have her in his arms again. Though it wasn't quite how he had wished the night would end, Thomas hoped it would lead to an even closer relationship with Amanda.

[adalhied-prime]

Rating: T for Teen Fandom: Transformers (Bay Movies) Characters: Alison Witwicky (OFC), Bumblebee, Mikaela Banes, Optimus Prime, Megatron, Asami Stark (OFC), Miles Lancaster, Barricade, Arcee, Seymour Simmons, Other Autobots, Other Decepticons, Other Humans, Ships: Alison Witwicky (OFC)/Mikaela Banes, Other Minor Ships Tags: Self-Insert, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, [[ Basically Ro saying “Fuck Canon!” ]], [[ But not a magic fix fic cause Alison makes mistakes ]], [[ And some will bite her in the ass eventually ]], Eventual Polyamory, Eventual Xeno

Summary: When I woke up with a chihuahua barking in my face, I knew things were not as they should be, but waking up in the place of Sam Witwicky at the start of the Transformers movie? Completely insane. But, I’m here, and I know the bad route things will take if I stick to the canon. So let’s see if I can change things for the better with some help from a certain magical cube.

Chapter 45: Changing Mission Parameters

In which Alison confronts Galloway, gets ratted out, and finds a much better plan.

After our discussion, I ate the dinner Ratchet brought me and Mikaela and I fell asleep. The next day, like asked, I took the morning off, then I tried to go back to work after lunch. However, when I went to step into my office and looked at the spot on the floor where I had fallen (they said the blood was cleaned up, but why did it look like it stained?), I suddenly felt very lightheaded, like I couldn't breathe, and quickly backed out. I couldn't. I tried again a few minutes later, with the same result. That time, Ella found me, and quickly had my things transferred to one of the extra offices. The room was a bit smaller, so the furniture was arranged differently, and the walls were a slightly different color, with a different angle of light from the window. Even with my things, it looked nothing like my office before, and I thanked Ella for it when my voice came back the next day.

A few days later, Galloway asked me to come see him in his office, which sadly was only a door down from mine.

"You asked for me, liaison?" I asked as I came in, after taking five minutes to convince Cogman to stay outside the door. I sat down without waiting for an invitation.

"Yes, I did." He set his pen down and looked at me. "As you know, there is a lot of concern regarding you, and these attacks against your person."

"Of course. I know many are still disturbed by how easily Scalpel and Wheelie evaded our security."

"I more so am speaking of your health, Director. Both physical and mental."

This shit again? "I am healing well, Galloway," I raised my hand to show, and yes, the bandaging was much less than it had been before. "Ratchet examined me yesterday, and he's hopeful that, with my healing factor, I can have the bandages removed within two weeks."

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