#once again mesmerized by the way you draw the hair op...

[libraryofloveletters]

Okay so potential fic idea? You’re PG’s best friend and she sets you up on a blind date with Derek 🥺

Dinner And A Drink 

Derek Morgan x Reader 

Warnings: first date awkwardness, alcohol mentions and consumption

Category: fluff 

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: the convos are kinda dull cause first date awkwardness and ishi, I'm so sorry I took so long to write this omg 

----

“I promise he’s a nice guy!” Penelope gave your shoulder a little nudge, 

“I told you I'm not ready Penny” you ignored her pleas. 

Penelope had been your best friend since you moved to Virginia for university, you worked in a little coffee shop right by her apartment building. She’d stop in every morning, or whenever she got called into work, for a coffee. She wasn’t overly picky at first but as you got to know her, more of her bubbly personality came out as well. Penelope was only a few years older than you, but it wasn’t a major difference. 

She was currently trying to get you to go on a date with one of her coworkers. It had been a few months since you broke up with your ex boyfriend and she thought it was time for you to get back out there. 

“I just don’t want to set myself up for disappointment again pens” you wiped off the counter. She twirled her spoon in her cup, the shop was empty and it was only the two of you in there. 

“I promise he won’t be a disappointment, just this once. He’s the sweetest guy I've ever met” 

“Do you have a pic-” 

“A picture ? I do but I'm not going to show you” She smiled at you. 

You looked at her wide-eyed and brows furrowed, “what do you mean you’re not going to show me?” you asked her. “That’s the purpose of a blind date” she replied.

“Okay fine” you sighed, “let me ask you a few questions before I officially decide” 

She took a sip of her coffee, waiting for you to question her. “What’s his name ?” 

“Derek” 

“How old is he ?” 

“That’s for you to find out” 

“What does he like ?” 

“You can ask him that on your date” 

“Are you going to keep telling me to ask him my questions ?” 

“Yup” 

You sighed, “fine, just this once” Penelope smiled and pulled out her phone. “Oh good we still have time, let’s go” she grabbed her coat and your hand before pulling you towards the door. 

“Time for what ?” 

“To get you ready for your date sugar plum” 

“Tonight ?! Penelope I have to find something to wear, I gotta do my hair, I need-” 

“You're coming to my place. Let me worry about the outfit, you do your hair” 

The love you had for Penelope was unmatched, hence why you’re getting ready for a date with only a 2 hour notice. She made a phone call to who you could only assume was Derek on your way back to her apartment. 

The 2 hours went by rather slow. Penelope worked her magic on you, she fixed your hair, picked out your outfit and even gave you a little pep talk to calm your nerves.

Penelope drove you to the restaurant, she told the bare minimum about Derek on the way there so you weren't at a total loss and so you didn’t have time to pick apart the information she provided you with. 

“Okay honey bun, just tell the girl at the door you’re here for Morgan, she’ll take you to the table” 

You sat in the car for a moment, looking out the window at the restaurant. Penelope gave your hand a squeeze. “If you want to leave, just tell him. He’ll understand” she kissed your cheek leaving a little red kiss mark on your face. You got out of the car and before you could say goodbye to her, she had driven off. 

No turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, you brushed off the wrinkles from your shirt and headed into the restaurant. “Hi, uh I'm meeting someone here” you told the girl, she could see you were nervous. “First date ?” she asked, you nodded. 

“What’s the name ?” 

“Morgan” 

She led you back outside to the patio. The man had his back to you, you could already tell that he was attractive, even with the lack of hair (which Penelope seemed to leave out of her information but it didn’t matter) 

“Derek ?” you asked, walking to the other side of the table so he would be able to see you. “That's me, I'm guessing you’re y/n ?” “That would be me” you smiled at him. He stood up and stretched his arms out towards you, you stepped forward and felt his arms wrap around you. 

Holy shit, he gives good hugs 

You sat across from him, Derek had broad shoulders and a nice smile. Penelope had good taste in men and she knew your type to a T. “Did she ambush you with this date too ?” you asked, just wanted to get past that awkward first date phase of the conversation and Derek laughed. “Not exactly. To tell you the truth, I had seen a picture of you on babygirl’s desk and I was mesmerized” he chuckled, “she then explained that you were single and she would ask you if you were up to go for dinner or maybe drinks, nothing too over the top” he handed you a glass of wine. 

“Oh that’s- wait, did you say baby girl ?” 

“yeah, sorry shouldn't really call someone else baby girl while I’m on a date huh?” he chuckled. 

God, even his laugh was attractive

“Oh no, that’s alright but Penelope said only one person calls her that and that’s her ‘chocolate thunder’” 

“That would be me” 

“You’re telling me she sent me on a date with her chocolate thunder?”

“She would tell you that it’s a ‘blood in the nostrils’ type thing so I wouldn't stress it” 

Well this was off to a strange start 

“What do you do ?” Derek looked over at you while you told him. 

“I’m in the arts project at Columbia University” 

“Isn’t that in New York ?” 

“Yeah, it is but I'm finishing up my last co-op program here at the art museum” 

“That’s really cool, so you paint and draw or like what’s your specialty?”

“I don’t really have one but I do draw and paint. Art curator is the dream job, if not then jewellery designer is the next one” 

“I’m sure that’s more fascinating then my job” 

“You’re a fricking F.B.I agent, I don't think there’s anything cooler than that” 

Derek laughed at your enthusiasm for his job. “You think so ?” 

“Oh totally” you smiled as you took a sip of wine. 

Dinner was nice, the two of you talked about Derek’s job and your plans for after you finished university. “Are you thinking of staying here or moving back to New York ?” “well, nothing’s set yet but I'd stay if I had something keeping me here ya know?” 

“Dessert ?” 

“Oh, no thank you, unless you want something” you told him. 

“How about a drink then ?” he asked 

“Sounds like a plan” you smiled at him

You could feel your phone buzzing against your leg continuously. “Excuse me for a minute, I'm just gonna run to the bathroom” “take your time” Derek smiled at you.  

When you got into the bathroom, you checked your phone. It was Penelope texting you to check how your date was going. 

From Penny: sorry for zooming off like that haha, I didn’t want you to change your mind :) 

From Penny: sooo how’s it going ? 

From Penny: do you like him ? 

From Penny: god I hope he’s not being rude to you 

From Penny: i’m sure he isn't 

From Penny: he’s an angel on earth I promise 

From Penny: okay don't answer me then :( 

From Penny: I'm going to have a serious talk with Derek when I see him 

From Penny: he’s stealing you from me right now

From Penny: I NEED DETAILS!!! 

From Penny: NOW!!!!

You decided to text her back before she shows up to see if everything is okay. 

To Penny: It's okay, it's good you left or I would have changed my mind. he’s not being rude, he's been very sweet actually. He’s super funny and I like him so far. We’re going to get a drink now, I'll text you after. 

From Penny: oh good I'm glad to hear that! :)) 

To Penny: Satisfied now ? 

From Penny: yes I am, have fun now 

You chuckled before slipping your phone back into your pocket and heading back to the table. “All set ?” Derek asked as he stood up. “Yeah, what about the bill?” you went to get your card from your pocket when Derek grabbed your hand. 

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I got it already” 

“Oh, thank you” 

“No worries” 

His hand rested on your lower back as the two of you walked out. “Where too ?” he asked

“There's a place down the street or if you want to go somewhere else ?” you suggested 

“Anything’s good with me” 

“My place then ? if you don't mind of course. I have a bottle of whiskey that’s just begging to be opened” you chuckled. 

He smiled, “sounds good” 

The restaurant wasn’t far from your apartment so you walked back. It wasn’t cold outside but it wasn't warm either. It was a normal autumn night, there was a warm breeze. You hadn’t remembered if you had tidied up or not and you invited him over to your place. 

Good job y/n 

You pushed open the door and braced yourself for a mess only to be met with a clean apartment. You let out a sigh of relief before stepping inside, Derek following you inside. 

“Make yourself comfortable” you slipped off your shoes before heading to the kitchen. Derek mirrored your actions, he took off his shoes and followed your steps to the kitchen. 

“Wow” Derek stood by your kitchen window, “how’d you end up with such a nice view ?” your apartment overlooked downtown and it was always beautiful when the sun was setting. 

“Honestly, I just got lucky” You pulled the bottle out of your cupboard. 

It was one of the bottles with the cork tops that you pull off but you couldn’t seem to get it off. A grunt and a ‘ow’ from you caught Derek’s attention, he turned around to see you rubbing your palm and the bottle was on the counter beside you. 

“Can I ?” 

“Be my guest” 

Derek grabbed the bottle and you turned away from him to get glasses. A loud pop caused you to turn, Derek stood there with the opened bottle in his hand. 

“Are you kidding me ?” you groaned making him chuckle. 

“You know, I almost had it, your muscles just helped” you told him before resting the glasses on the counter. 

“I’m sure you did sugar” he poured some into each glass. 

Derek picked a glass up and you picked up the other. “To new friends and new beginnings” he said, you clink your glass against his before taking a sip.

“Can I tell you something ?” 

“Of course” 

“I wasn't even going to come tonight” 

“How come ? If you don't mind me asking” 

“I just didn’t want to set myself up again, what if it didn't work ? what if I didn’t know what to say or do when I saw you, ya know ? but it wasn't like that. You made me feel comfortable and safe” you admitted to him, Derek smiled. 

“I’m glad I did. I really liked getting to know you y/n” 

“And I you, Derek” 

Derek's arm rested on your shoulder, your hand coming up to meet his, your fingers interlocking. 

“Maybe we can do this again?” you asked him quietly

“I’d like that” Derek pressed a small kiss to your temple. 

--

Taglist: @haleymalaffey @aaronhotchnerr @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @tclaerh @luke-alvez @iconicc @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @ssa-holmes @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 12

                       A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Twelve (NSFW) Chapter notes on AO3

The morning broke peacefully on the day Javier and Joseph were flying back to Paris. Claire had a huge breakfast for everyone on the foredeck and even Jamie was in attendance. He was looking better and was staying awake longer each day. He was indebted to these men for coming at a moment’s notice to help Claire with her grief.

Claire hugged each of them, waved, and blew kisses as the cab rolled away. Maia had come with them and now walked with Claire back to the boat.

“Has Jamie said anything about the scars yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Has he told you how he ended up with Hesser?”

“No.”

“Well, we have ten days at sea before we hit Jamaica. Maybe all that time alone will make him talk.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Darius was excited to get out to open water so Claire and Jamie got comfortable on the foredeck to say goodbye to Greece, civilization, other boats, people, everything except endless miles of ocean.

”Can we talk a bit Sassenach? Every time I get ready to explain things, I decide it’s not the right day to ruin for you and I put it off.” He stuck his nose in her hair and pulled her smell into his nose. “God, you smell good.” He sat up and looked into her eyes, “are you ready mo chridhe?”

“Yes, although I don’t think you’re capable of ruining my day. Your mouth is too beautiful, your eyes are too mesmerizing, your body is too close to me. So, do your best Mister Fraser, and don’t pout if I smile through your story.”

“It starts when I woke up in what I thought was a hospital. I was so scared, and I just wanted to find you, but people were holding me down and that made me fight more. My back was on fire and every movement was excruciating, even so I fought them until they knocked me out. This happened every time I woke up, many times. I saw the doctor standing over me once, at least I thought he was the doctor. He started shouting at me about not having a candidate for the white house and it was all my fault. He finally settled down and told me it had been a month since I fell into the water with Frank. I was shocked it had been that long. He said my wounds were starting to heal, but it would be a long recovery. He handed me a tape recorder and your voice soothed me and gave me hope.

“I can’t imagine how awful it was for you, alone, severely wounded with that man hovering over you. But you’re home now Jamie, and we can forget this whole incident if we try. We’re free with new identities, a shitload of money, our friends, and adventure ahead.”

Jamie brought her hands into her lap and looking straight into her eyes he shook his head sadly. Hesser plans to train me in espionage and counterterrorism. I refused and he laughed, telling me dead men don’t have a choice. Claire, there is a branch of the American government called Black Ops and Hesser is the chief. They answer to no one, not even the president. When he is ready they will come and get me for six months of training.

Claire sat up, "that’s ridiculous, he can’t force you to become a spy, or terrorist, whatever it is!”

Jamie held her hands to make her look at him and he shook his head looking like it was the end of the world.

“It’s not a matter of me, Sassenach, it’s a we”

“What are you saying? I will be abducted and forced to train in espionage, for Hesser?”

“He knows you are Casper, and I am the painter. He owns us and he is giddy with it. The worst part is no help or backup. If we die during the mission we have no identity within the CIA.

“That is why he saved you. So he can turn you into his personal super-spy and he can end your life anytime he wants just by turning your location over to the Europeans.”

“Hesser wouldn’t waste his time reporting me. He has no compunction about killing unnecessaries. His words.”

Claire was seeing the bigger picture and it terrified her. Hesser would become their puppet master and throw them into any horrible situation he wanted. It was unfathomable how cruel he was, it would be a life of torture, always looking over her shoulder, waiting for them to take her. She wanted to vomit and scream at the twist of fate that now promised a very short life for both of them.

“ I am going to lay down.”

Claire had pulled the bedspread off the bed and lay sleeping in her bikini. Jamie watched her with a crippling need for her love. It had been almost three months since they last made love and he fought with his painful erection every day until he felt strong enough to let it go with her. He could barely breathe because his heart was hammering in his chest. He could not stop himself from touching her.

Claire felt Jamie’s warmth press into her from behind. It was foreign to her and she felt her body react instantly. His arm came across her chest, strong and commanding, holding her in place and rolling onto his back, pulling her with him. He pulled at her bikini top savagely and she heard the straps rip as the garment was cast aside, leaving her breasts naked for his mauling hand. He pinched her nipple and she gasped before trying to get away from him. She wanted to control the activity and make sure he was safe from harm, but he wouldn’t release her nor did he speak. She felt the hair on her neck stand up when he panted into her ear.

He ran his hand down her stomach and into the lower part of her suit where he dropped his other hand and ripped it off of her. His mind was not his own anymore. He felt like a different person, out of control with need, barely able to have a coherent thought.

“Spread your legs, love,” he breathed into her ear.

“Jamie..”

“Spread them.”

His amazing fingers played with her bud and spread her lips open to the fingers of his other hand pushing into her.

“My God, your wet. Your body wants me and you’re powerless to stop me.”

He would not let up on her, even when she pleaded in her headlong rush to orgasm. She felt his strong wet fingers pull her chin to his lips kissing her into submission and his fingers were once again inside her body moving in and out in sync with his tongue. Claire moaned and her body was shaking when he stopped.

“Turn around Sassenach, I want to watch your eyes when you come. Straddle me, love, that’s it.”

She was out of her mind with this possessive lovemaking and watched Jamie quickly move through her knees and down on the mattress to hold her pelvis tightly and pull her down on his assaulting tongue. He could see her breasts bounce with her oncoming orgasm and the erotic scene nearly finished him. Claire moaned through her release and Jamie pulled her to him and held her while she pulsed and jerked. The second she opened her eyes, he took control again.

He flipped her to her back and ripped the buttons off of his shirt followed by his shorts. Claire was in a lust drunk haze and tried to rally with his fresh onslaught on her body.

“Tell me you love you me.”

“I love you, Jamie, more than anything.”

“Tell me you belong to me, tell me how you will make me come.”

“I belong to you Jamie and I want to feel you down my throat.”

Jamie rolled to his side and grabbed a fist full of hair, very close to her scalp so he could direct her head. “tongue out,” he panted and moved her tongue up and down the length of him before he shoved her face into his balls and watched her lick and suck until he almost lost his mind. She felt him lift her head to his cock and push her down on it, keeping her head clear of his view. He yanked her head away and held her away from him while he regained control.

“On your back.”

He pulled her legs straight up and held her ankles with one hand and watched his dick go in and out of her. Claire was moaning with a second orgasm building pressure and she begged him to let go so she could spread her legs and let him bang into her throbbing center.

He pulled her legs apart and pushed them wide. With each thrust he pressed into her and told her he loved her, he desired her, he would never leave her. Claire was mewing with every contact until he pushed into her deepest body and felt her orgasm start. Jamie just closed his eyes and felt her pulsing, her wetness, and heard her moan his name until it was over.

Two deep thrusts and he joined her in the erotic stratosphere where arms and legs disappear and existence is reduced to your core that pulses wtih euphoria.

Jamie grabbed his chest as he panted and dropped to her side, pulling her close.

“I’m sorry for being a brute, love.”

She tried to speak and gave up forming words that would fall tragically short. When she could speak again, she pulled Jamie’s head up from her shoulder and looked in his eyes.

“I will fight for you Jamie, no matter what Hesser throws at us I will never give you up. Please say you will never give up on me.”

“Never, ever, ever, will I give up on you, Claire.”

Jamie held Claire while she napped and his mind was racing for some way to out-think Hesser. He had them in a vise grip and cared not a lick for their lives. They were utterly disposable and when one was taken, the other would agonize until they returned. He wondered how long sanity would hold up under that torture.

Once Claire was deep in sleep, he made his way to the boat garage and placed a fresh canvas onto his makeshift easel. He didn’t make drawings or sketch the final picture but stabbed his brush into the earthy colors on his pallet mixing them lighter and darker, adding shadow colors and light ivory and peach, browns from light to dark and transferred the color to the canvas to rough out the forest where he played as a child with his three best friends, Ian, Angus, and Rupert. He painted the gorge, then changed it to the ravine they loved with a giant tree overhanging the edge and a long rope tied to its outstretched branch. He roughed in Rupert, clinging to the rope, smiling in the dappling sunshine. In his mind, he heard Rupert’s voice telling him he would always be on his side, no matter what.

Jamie threw his brush into turpentine and ran up the stairs to the bridge, where Darius was looking at his maps.

“I need to get to Jamaica right away, even if you push the engines beyond what is safe. I’m serious. I need to be there yesterday.”

Darius looked at him for a full minute, trying to think of any reason someone would risk the engines to cross the Atlantic so quickly. One thing he knew about Jamie was his intelligence, so he would know the risk.

“Done.”

“How long?”

“Seven days. Ish.”

“Thank you.”

As the days passed, Jamie painted, Darius used the autopilot and fished, Maia cooked and read her chapters for her online English course, and Claire touched base with the University and then sent her letter of resignation. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. Rather, a minor event when compared to the horrific life she would endure in the days to come.

The weather turned warmer and humid two days out from Jamaica so Claire and Jamie slept on the sundeck, under the stars. If they didn’t make love when they first laid down Jamie would wake her with a warm hand and the race would start anew. It was exciting, and he would take her to the edge of acceptable passion and then push her into the erotic vortex. He had changed and both of them knew it. Making love slowly and softly was no longer on the menu but was replaced with something desperate, possessive, and domineering, yet wholly satisfying.

The last day of their journey, Jamie kissed Claire’s neck at breakfast and told her how lovely her hair was. He pulled on a shiny coil and it sprang back, making him chuckle.

Maia backhanded Darius’s upper arm and demanded he pay more attention to her. He rubbed his arm and scowled at her.

“I love you and you know that Maia, why the brutality?”

“You don’t love me enough, Darius!”

When he saw the tears start he jumped out of his chair and pulled her to him. Maia did not cry, not even at funerals, and here she was with wet cheeks. Claire felt sad for Maia and wondered what was happening.

“I love you Maia, with all my heart.”

“You love to fish.”

“I love you more than I love fishing.”

Maia looked up at him and smiled through her tears and then hugged him. And that was it. The spat was over and Maia was bouncing around the kitchen again. Claire squirmed in her seat, horrified at her sudden arousal, and ran to the bedroom.

“Jamie, can you get this splinter out of my hand?”

“Sassenach, come out to the deck, it’s easier to find in the sun.”

When she didn’t respond he followed her into their room and barely caught her when she jumped on him. He found her bossy lovemaking adorable until she pulled him into orbit and the slave became the ruler.

Later, Claire walked out to the foredeck and was stunned by the crystal clear water and marine life that was everywhere she looked. She grabbed the bridge phone and asked Darius how long to get to the island.

“One hour and I want a promise you will wait until we’re moored before you jump overboard. Claire?”

“Yes, yes, I will jump overboard, goodbye, and hurry.”

Jamie was dispatched to make sure his wife stayed on board and the two of them hung over the side of the yacht to watch for sea life. Jamie helped Darius with mooring the boat and the girls were overboard without a backward glance. Darius dug out the snorkels, flippers, and masks and threw them overboard before locking up the yacht and diving into the water. They all found a slice of heaven in the clear water and did not return to the boat until the sun was setting.

Jamie was exhausted and could hardly get the fork to his mouth for dinner. Darius told him to pace himself because they would here for as long as they wanted. Jamie laughed and said “too much fun” with his mouth full of peas. Claire found him asleep on their bed still in his trunks and she smiled at her prince, praying for some time before one of them was taken for training.

The following day they tendered to shore to look around and find some local fun. Jamie promised Claire he would catch up and took off to find a store and then a post service. He paid cash for the fastest service to Germany, then Scotland.

Three days later, Jenny received a package from a remailer in Germany. She pulled out a card and read the note as she struggled to the kitchen table to sit down.

Dear Mrs. Murray, Thank you for your order. Enjoy your new phone and see the operating instructions before plugging it in the first time.

She had not ordered a phone which was confusing, but she was stuck on the handwriting because it looked just like Jamie’s. That was impossible, and her eyes stung with fresh tears remembering him. She pulled out the folded instructions and on the inside he had written, “keep the phone on and with you at all times. JAMMF” Jenny stared at the letters and backed into the refrigerator before running upstairs to wake her husband and show him.

Ian rolled toward the tapping on his shoulder and smiled at his pregnant wife. He stared at the handwriting and the initials on the instructions. This was Jamie’s way of contacting them without phone taps finding him, or the cruelest joke in history. He pulled Jenny to his side and pulled the phone and cord out, plugging it in.

“We will keep it charged and on us at all times. Okay, Dove?”

Jenny reached for the ringing phone two nights later and immediately started to cry. She heard Jamie’s voice and thought she would choke from crying so hard. His calming voice helped her get over the shock that he was still alive. He asked her to wake Ian and turn on the speaker to which Ian replied “go ahead, Jamie.”

Jamie told them everything about Frank, Casper, his wife, and Hesser, the man in charge of Black Ops.

“Ian, will you find Rupert and tell him everything I’ve told you?”

“Of course Jamie, I’ll do it tomorrow. Why Rupert?”

“He’s a good friend and might have some pointers about dealing with Hesser, maybe he learned something in the special services.”

“Jamie, I feel so bad for you and Claire. I wish there was something we could do to help. Can ye get that tracking device out of yer arm?”

“I hope so, it’s something we’re working on.”

Jamie ended the call soon after and told them he would call another time. He never thought he would pit a friend against the likes of Hesser and hung his head in shame for having no other solution. It was never confirmed, but he knew things about Rupert and his time in the service. He prayed for forgiveness and his guilt raged for several days after.

Ian smiled at Rupert through the window as he walked up to the construction trailer. Rupert was the job manager for a new shopping center going up in Edinburgh. He launched out of his seat, shook hands with his old friend, and the two sat down to talk for a bit.

Ian knew there was a special bond between Jamie and Rupert because Jamie saved his life when they were eleven years old. Rupert, Angus, Ian, and Jamie were inseparable when they were kids, always looking for something fun to do with the long summer days. When it was hot, they would head into the forest to find the big tree that hung into the ravine, right over the rushing creek that cut through the woods. Jamie was first to swing into the center of the ravine and let go, falling ten feet into the water. Ian was next followed by Angus, but Rupert wanted nothing to do with it. It took all summer, but they finally talked him into it and he held the rope shaking from head to toe. He was quite sure he would fall to his death but none of his friends had, so he forced his bravery and jumped off the edge of the ravine. Unprepared for the stark terror of clinging to a rope over a drop that seemed one hundred feet down he refused to let go. Jamie got concerned and backed up to jump off the edge with enough speed to reach the rope. If he had missed, the momentum of his body would have dropped him into the rocks on the other side of the creek, so it was utterly heroic to an eleven-year-old.

Jamie caught the rope and told Rupert to hang onto to his waist, and then he dropped them into the water, pulling Rupert to the bank and going on about his bravery. Jamie was his hero after that, and Rupert made no attempt to hide that fact.

Ian looked Rupert in the eyes, remembering his break down at Jamie’s memorial, and decided to just blurt it out after swearing him to silence.

“Jamie’s alive Rupert, but he’s in trouble, so keep it secret please.” Ian told the story of Jamie being rescued and revived by a man named Hesser, a Black Ops CIA boss that threatened to turn him over to his captors or kill him outright if he didn’t follow orders. He covered Jamie’s marriage to none other than Casper, the art thief, the very person he gained his freedom to catch. Rupert seemed to be playing with something in his desk drawer while every word was seared into his brain. When Ian stopped talking, Rupert looked up, “Ye tell Jamie, I gotcha brother.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ll be prayin for im.” Then he slapped Ian on the back and walked him out to his truck.

One week later, the moonlight shined on the raised barrel of a sniper rifle with a twelve-inch silencer attached to its end. An eyeball looked through the night scope from over a mile away and twisted the calibration dial and focus. Rupert crouched on top of a water tower with a clear sight to the CIA parking lot and Hesser’s vehicle. He had been in this position for three nights, waiting for the man to show up. When he climbed the tower that night he was relieved to see Hesser’s car in the lot and waited for his five-second opportunity to remove him from Jamie’s life. When Hesser walked out of the building Rupert trained his rifle on the man’s head, exhaled, and took his shot.

To the CCTV cameras, it looked like Hesser bent down to unlock his car door when he was actually sprawled on the blacktop missing half of his head. He wasn’t noticed for an hour, giving Rupert time to break the rifle down into separate plastic bags that he would return to his comrade-in-arms. He still had to drive the pieces back to Maryland, then he would jump on a plane back to Scotland. The only emotion he felt was relief that Jamie and his wife were safe.

“James Fraser, get out of the water this instant!”

Jamie looked up at Claire on the foredeck, hands on hips, looking exasperated. He knew there was no use putting this off and swam to the aft deck, throwing his flippers up on the boat and hoisting his body up after them. He found Claire in their bathroom with a chair pushed into the vanity right under the sink. She pushed Jamie’s head back and started mixing the chemicals to turn his red hair blonde.

She looked down at him and smiled, making his stomach do flip-flops. “Don’t look so scared Jamie, it will look good, I promise.”

“I don’t care how it looks Sassenach, it is a bit late for this, isn’t it?”

“Not if we can find a doctor on the island willing to cut into my arm and remove the whateveritis.”

“Why not use me as the guinea pig?”

“Because you have been brutalized enough lately. It’s my turn.”

Jaime could smell the chemicals being squeezed onto his hair and ran his hand up Claire’s leg, making her squirm and laugh. He closed his eyes when he felt her hands spreading the mixture through his hair. He thought about Rupert and wondered if he had taken the initiative. So far the news had been devoid of any attack on the CIA chief, and each day was one day closer to men boarding their boat and taking one of them away. Jamie shivered at the thought.

“You have twenty minutes to wait. Do you want your book?”

“Hmm?”

Claire could see Jamie was already falling asleep, so she left him alone and got the chair ready on deck to cut his hair. When she rinsed out the hair color, she noticed it looked very light and wondered if she made a mistake. The sun dried his hair as she cut it and when it was combed into his new style, he almost took her breath away.

“Are you looking that way because blonde is not a good color on me, Sassenach?”

“Quite the contrary, actually.”

“Wow, you were good looking before, but now you’re drop-dead gorgeous! That’s an American saying I learned,” Maia giggled, “it means you look even better.”

“Thank you, Maia,” he chuckled.

The next day they all went ashore, Jamie and Claire had a doctor appointment to remove Claire’s tracking device and the others wanted to see a bit of Jamaica. Claire was getting uncomfortable with the women staring at Jamie. One stopped on the sidewalk and just watched them pass.

“Jesus Christ, haven’t these people seen blonde hair before?”

Jamie gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. When they entered the medical facility, Claire was getting nervous. What if the doctor turned them over to the police? It wasn’t everyday people came in with trackers in their arm. At least she didn’t think so.

The Jamaican doctor nodded a few times and looked at Claire’s incision that had healed to a thin red line. He was a man of few words which sharpened the edge Claire was feeling.

“Lay here and I will try to find it.”

The doctor came back into the room with a medical device that used sonar technology to find foreign objects under the skin. He pressed a wand into Claire’s skin around the incision and listened with headphones as he calibrated the machine. He was getting concerned because the machine was blinded by another pulse, but that was impossible. He moved the wand to Claire’s leg, then feet, then her back before he removed the earphones and turned the machine off. His face did not look right to Claire, and she was ready to come undone.

“Please doctor, tell us something, I am getting terrified because I thought this would be an easy removal.”

The doctor sat on his stool and shook his head. “The chip in your arm might be identifiable like a GPS bouncing off a satellite. But it is using some kind of sonar technology to ping into your body. Until you discover what it is pinging to, you should not remove it.”

“What?”

“What do you think it’s pinging to doctor?”

“It’s only a guess, but it might be looking for a second object that was introduced into your body at the same time. It could be anywhere and small enough to inject.”

“That makes no sense, doctor.” Jamie could hear the almost hysterical pitch to her voice.

“I think I understand. Sonar technology is also on the chip and it pings looking for something, like a specific shape that they injected. If we have the chip removed the ping sends a warning that it can’t find the shape. That’s as far as I got. So what then?”

“If someone wanted to know your whereabouts enough to implant a super RFID chip they don’t want you removing it and getting away. Just a guess, but when it’s removed, it may lock in your coordinates and …”

“The sky is filled with helicopters looking for us.”

Claire looked quite pale all of a sudden, and Jamie pulled her close. The doctor picked up his equipment and headed toward the door. He looked at them both.

“A life of crime does not suit either of you. Why not do an honest day’s work? Handsome men get pictures in magazines, make lots of money, put a hex on my nurse so now she just waits at the clinic door!”

The doctor laughed and left before seeing Claire’s eyes roll. On the way out, she regarded the nurse with an I-dare-you-look and they left, more rattled than before. Back on the yacht, they filled the others in on what they learned.

“That is diabolical,” Darius shook his head.

“I don’t get it,” Maia looked wide-eyed at the group.

"It’s a sonar warning system in case they have the chips removed. They put something else in their bodies that the sonar looks for. If it can’t be found, because the chip is removed, it locks in their location and they flood the area with agents. It is pretty hard to hide a yacht of this size.”

“Just take the other thing out as well then.” Maia looked at the three of them like they were dumb.

“They have no idea where the object is. It wasn’t implanted with an incision, it was probably injected.”

Maia rubbed her temples like she had a headache. “I’m going for a swim before I start dinner.”

Maia left to jump overboard, Claire went to feed Adso, and the guys went to the bridge to think and bounce ideas. Five minutes later, Maia ran up the aft deck and saw Claire sitting in the saloon staring into space.

“I get it now! Oh my God! You look like you just lost your best friend, but I’m still here, so get your ass in the water. Claire?”

When she didn’t move Maia boldly walked into the saloon and stood next to Claire dripping water on the Persian rug. She pinched her suit and a fat drop of water squeezed out and rolled down her hip. She pointed at it rolling down her leg.

“Okay, okay, Maia, I just want to sulk for five minutes.”

“No!”

Claire jumped in the water followed by fins, masks, and snorkels that Maia threw overboard. She felt the usual excitement pulling her fins on and decided to worry later, diving deep to catch up with her friend.

Darius and Jamie were on the side deck watching the girls dive for shells. The contrast of moods was not lost on Jamie.

“How can they be so happy? All they do is hunt for pretty things, they could at least spear some fish for dinner.”

He and Darius both laughed at the absurdity of his statement.

“I need to speak freely, Jamie.” Darius looked out at the ocean and took a deep breath. “What if the second object does more than act as a warning when the chip is removed? You said Hesser placed no value on your life other than what you could do for him. What if the second object is programmed to kill you, like releasing a neurotoxin if the ping stops?”

Jamie had a pained expression on his face and gripped the railing, making the veins in his arms stick out. “Certainly something to consider. Thanks.” He slapped Darius on the shoulder and left the bridge to find sanctuary before he lost his mind. When the turpentine hit his nostrils his racing heart slowed down and the painter came out. He pulled a canvas out of hiding and set it on his easel. It was Darius, on the bridge, the morning of their wedding. He stood looking out at the water with the glorious purple, orange, and magenta of the sunrise seen through the windows. Jamie was intrigued by his face. A wide smile flanked by deep grooves, solid jaw, and floppy hair, but his eyes shined with intelligence and calm confidence. His shirt was open and the instruments were reflected off the flat planes of his chest and stomach. Jamie’s expert use of color contoured his face like a photograph, and he stood back to look at the finished painting. He lettered “The Captain” in a lower corner and left to clean up for dinner.

Climbing the steps to the saloon was a shock when the rays of sunrise stung his eyes. He could hardly remember the hours of night going by, but the image of Claire looking at the picture and kissing him goodnight finally surfaced. He was filled with gratitude for such an extraordinary partner.

[hopetofantasy]

Wandering Romance

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): none applied.   Created for @skamevents Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”  

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.  

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

—————————————————————

CHAPTER 2: 'No one sees what I see in you’

—————————————————————

“So this is it then?”

A beautiful boy with mesmerizing eyes lying in arms. The warmth of love. It felt like puzzle pieces finally fitting together, after months of frustration and searching for anything that might look like it. Something that had been missing for quite some time. It just didn’t add up? Long sighs, hurtful eyes, loaded silences that made them more sad than happy. Their love wasn’t strong enough to deal with this...

No, he didn’t believe that.

They were strong enough.

Just not now...

He was caressing the cheek of his lover, his best friend, his partner in crime. Another part of the pair, the amazing family they had. Fathers. Their boy. All tossed away, like it was nothing. A paper crumbled in the trash. Like they never even were. And because of what? Why? Why now? Why this? This wasn’t right. They both knew it wasn’t.

He sighed to stop the spiraling.

His hands started to clench into a fist. He was so angry at first, he was so angry and sad at the world. He was promised forever, they both promised each other that their love would survive anything. The perfect man in a beautiful white suit and him wearing the black one. Ying and yang. Always complimenting each other, begging for a deeper connection, receiving it and now cutting it away.

Like his heart.

“Is this it? Can’t we keep trying? Please?”

His eyes were staring inside those deep ones. His tanned skinned hand slightly caressing his lover’s arm. Mindlessly. They were used to pillow talk until the early morning, the sunrise. The night sky turning from dark blue to light orange hues, exactly the color he once made by accident, trying out the paint samples on his palette. A beautiful coincidence. Just like the night they met.

As if faith knew.

When the other boy didn’t answer, he just went for it. His lips trying to convey everything he felt inside the troubled mind, his hands feeling every hitched breath taken away from his other half, the softness of a wanted caress, but also the sting from nails digging in his back, the bite of pleasure, the strained movement of legs  - as if love couldn’t be felt without some pain. It suited them, he thought. Every day could be a high. Every day could be a low.

His fingers gripped the sheets of their shared bed. Sharing it for the last time.  

“Oh my god, schat”, exclaimed the one.

“I love you”, answered the other.

“I love you too”, was moaned.

“Don’t leave me, please”, was said.

A tear rolling off a heated cheek.

Kissed by soft eyelashes.

The silence that followed wasn’t wounding. It was passion, it was love, it was a high that never experienced a low. A white light behind the eyes. Stars for their lights. Something shared only between them. And never would be again.

“Let us go... please”

The whisper.

And that’s when Sander woke up from his dream.

When he started to cry.

-^-

“Papa, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, darling, always. What is it?”

“How did you and paps meet?”

Oof, that was such a loaded question for a Monday morning. And he didn’t even have his first coffee yet. His eyes instantly analyzed David’s face, which was just a pure reflection of playfulness and wonder. The tiny boy seemed to concoct something on his breakfast croissant. It looked like choco spread, decorated with speculaas cookies.

What is this? Where the hell did he get that idea? This can’t be healthy right?

“Sweetie, did you eat a hearty sandwich before shoving this in your mouth? You can’t live on sweets, you know that. You won’t grow to be a big boy, then!”

“But, papa, I like it. Can I have this, like... one time?”

Oh no, not the puppy eyes.

He was a real manipulator with those big brown orbs. The kid was 9 years old, for God’s sake, how could he be this smart? He knew exactly how to play the game to convince them of mischievous things, things that were bad for him and stuff they needed to say ‘no’ to. But it was sooo rewarding to just say ‘yes’. Just to see the beautiful grin creep up onto the face he loved so much.

Something Sander wanted to collect in a jar and pull out whenever he had his ‘cloudy days’. David didn’t understand the concept of bipolarity yet, so once he was old enough to notice something, they had sat him down to explain. “David, sweetie. You know how papa is sometimes a bit different?”, Robbe tried to approach the subject, while their son stared with unsung tears in his eyes.

“Yeah, he lies on the bed and sleeps and don’t eat and is very, very sad. I don’t understand. Does papa hate me? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry...”

If the room was a stethoscope, the family would’ve heard a heart breaking. It was one thing that Robbe had to deal with his mania and depression. Now another innocent soul was being corrupted by his stupid brain and Sander just couldn’t deal with that. The pain he might induce, the worry in his soul almost growing too much. But as always, his other half seemed to know what to do. While holding his hand, to anchor him back to this world, Robbe explained.

“No, darling. Papa will always love you. Even if you did bad things. But now you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? You see, people have a bright sun inside them. And sometimes that happy, beautiful sun will have clouds blocking their light. Clouds who bring in bad weather, like being tired, not being hungry, not wanting to talk, have sad thoughts, just wanting to sleep all the time. And that’s okay. Because after a few days of rain, comes the sunshine, right?”

“And sometimes a rainbow!”, their beautiful boy exclaimed.

A couple of teeth missing in the front, but his smile was beaming nonetheless. It melted their hearts. “Yes,” Sander whispered softly. If he wasn’t sure about how much he loved his curly angels before, he knew now. When did he become so lucky to have such beautiful love? Him and his loving partner hugging their soft boy, giggling all together, without a care in the world. A fulfilling life.

Perfection.

“Papa, are you there?”

Sander blinked back some tears, while trying to focus on the situation at hand. David was glaring at him, already halfway through the disgustingly sweet croissant in his hands. Some crumbs were falling down the plate. And the choco paste tainting his pink cheeks. The look in his face was peculiar, like he tried to figure out what his dad was thinking. If he was going ‘cloudy’.

“David... I do remember that I never told you ‘yes’, right?”

The answer was a simple shrug.

“You didn’t answer my question about paps, either. C’est la vie.”

To say that Sander was perplexed, is an serious understatement.

-^-

When Sander was thirteen, he knew.

He wasn’t normal.

This was way before he was diagnosed with bipolarity, but that wasn’t the only thing not fitting the ‘standard normal’. He knew the boys in his class and he simply didn’t like them. They were all talking about video games, Call Of Duty: Black Ops, while eating their weight in greasy snacks and referring to girls like pieces of meat. Making jokes about what they learned from their older siblings or watching too much nighttime television.

And he didn’t.

He liked to write, he wanted to be a writer someday. And paint. Drawing was amazing. Sander loved walking around with cut jeans, graphic band t-shirts and a bleached buzzcut. One day, he’d love to have a pierced eyebrow. That was considered cool in his book. Maybe his career would be ‘rock-and-roll’ artist, since he played the drums too. Something to get his energy out.

Because he had ADHD.

At least, that’s what his doctor said. He just wanted different things than others and sometimes all at once. Was that weird? Apparently so. But he wasn’t entirely convinced about having the disorder. It sounded ill-fitting. Like a shrunken skinny jeans in the dryer, the broken mug in his room where he put his discarded pencils. It didn’t make sense.

Because he was who he was.

He liked who he was.

But who was he exactly?

He knew the day he changed schools. His mom somehow knew, the way only mothers do, that the previous school wasn’t the right fit for him. His course orientation was ‘sciences’ and he almost failed everyone of his classes. Sander was struggling to keep afloat. Almost drowning at the formulas and facts and figures. Those were more abstract to him than art. Art made sense, somehow?

And that’s why his mom send him to an art school.

There he saw people with asymmetric hair, nose rings and cut t-shirts. Girls with alluring auras, rainbow shoes and paint covered arms. Boys with mesmerizing eyes, fresh make-up and decorated backpacks. Beautiful souls who talked about art like breathing. Who understood things like writer’s block, portrait frustration and tunnel vision.

And he fell in love with them, all of them.

His people.

It took him a few years to understand what else made him special. Because he did fall in love with people’s souls, their auras, instead of a specific gender. It was a highlight in his life when he figured that one out. He finally knew another piece of the puzzle. Life was complicated, but knowing something more about yourself, made it so much easier.

His first crush was on a dark skinned boy from his drawing class. He didn’t reciprocate feelings, but liked Sander as a friend. Ekon appreciated the way Sander caught him in his art pieces. Complimented him on how he perfectly attained his off-beat smile, when someone made a joke at his expense. He was a quiet boy. But a boy, nonetheless.

And then there was Saartje. An unconventional girl, even for an art school. She seemed to walk around like an ice queen surrounded by raging fires. Hated every thing he suggested to lift her sculptures to a new level, always answering his comments with a cold stare. Such a soft girly name for such a raging bitch.

And Sander couldn’t help but fall.

Hard.

Without parachute.

But she used that to her advantage.

His love was treated as an exchange. If Sander would shut up about his newest passion called David Bowie, she’d give him a kiss. When he asked her on a date, she would think about it. Maybe if Sander could persuade the teacher to give her a better grade? And if he paid? Being the hormonal teenager he was, he obliged. And he believed. He was tricked into uncertain love.

Something he carried with him.

Especially after his eventual diagnosis. He dated Britt. He thought he deserved this kind of love. The uncertainty, the doubt, the hardships. It was all his brain’s fault, for being the way he was. Love? Love was something to be earned, not to be given. And nobody would give that up so easily for someone as broken as him.

Until that one boy,

in the moonlight.

He never saw true beauty ‘til this night.

And his heart,

did love as true again.

-^-

“Do you want any help with that?”

“Papa, I know how to make myself look like Bowie, you know.”

Sander snorted. He was truly a son of his, wasn’t he? This tiny boy was sitting on a high chair, right in front of a mirror, attempting to put on the make-up in a dramatic way. The tip of his tongue spilling out his lips, trying very hard to focus. He couldn’t stop staring at this sight, which filled him with pride. He must have taught him well.

The next generation was secured.

“Dad, stop staring at me and go find my other dad.”, David said sternly.

Ok, but who was the parent in this relationship exactly? Sometimes Sander didn't know. Yet, catching the eye of the supervisor right behind him, he was sure that everything was going to be a-okay. Maybe he did needed to find Robbe and the boys. It’ll do him some good. It had been ages since they had some real interaction that wasn’t through a phone.

It wasn’t difficult to spot them through the crowd of curious adults. The exaggerated screaming at each other was enough. Robbe had been pulled into the biggest hug by Milan, flanked by a jumping Moyo, giggling Aaron and a serious Jens. It sounded like the weirdest end of the world. But the feeling that coursed through his heart wasn’t unusual.

Pride.

For what they all achieved.

How they all stayed together.

Through hell and back.

Moyo had, somehow, become a successful club owner of a couple of nightlife establishments all around the city. From an only-known-by-initiates speakeasy to a high paid, high-end sky club, he knew what he wanted to do with his life and brought it to the table. Jens, on the other hand, went on a totally different route. After failing to start a few start-ups, he became g a video editing/sound mix freelancer and stay-at-home dad to help his lawyer-wife.

Aaron was still on the grind as a social worker, working until late at night to fight for the hardest cases. “These people deserve a happy ending”, he’d always say. And Sander couldn’t agree more.

Last but not least, Milan. The interior designer with an ecological mind. He had helped them out with the decoration of their home, which was totally picture perfect. And still cheap as f.

After the whole ordeal of greeting, Robbe seemed to have a huge smile plastered on his face. That was good, Sander though. Lately he looked so lost, certainly in Sander’s neighborhood. And he didn’t know why. As far as he knew, he didn’t say or do anything wrong. On the contrary. He’d encouraged Robbe to bring Wouter along, saying it was totally okay to find love again.

Where was that bastard, anyways?

“Heeeeeey, Jack Frost!”, the entire group turned towards him and engulfed him into an instant hug. Causing a lot of high pitched giggling, ‘omg, your hand is on my butt’-s and eye rolls. The warmth next to him was familiar, though. As was the scent. Which made his heart drum a little harder, like it wasn’t stating the obvious already. Pulling away, the electrified gaze lingered.

“How are you?”, the one asked.

“I’m good.”, the other answered.

He wanted to know more. Sander always wanted to know more. His heart never stopped beating for this boy, so everything he would say, would be engraved in his soul. His broken mind. His eternal love. That would never change. Even through the pain, he knew that they belonged together. That it was neither fault. Life just happened.

Like always.

But before he could ask anything else, a woman approached the brown haired man. Some colorful glasses, a beautiful classic dress and an intrigued smile on her face. Robbe immediately greeted her as ‘Mrs. Raymaeckers’. “I saw David backstage. Are you ready to see the performance, Mr. Ijzermans?”, she politely asked. Robbe slowly nodded his head with a careful smile.

“Ofcourse, David is going to be amazing, he was bouncing off the walls about this. I’m interested in what he’s going to play...”

“Ah yes. The David Bowie thing. He’s truly special, isn’t he? Unique in some ways.”, she giggled, while wrapping her hand around his arm. Causing a lot of heads unsubtly turning towards the gesture.

“I love how he has such a playful spirit. Does he have that from his father or his mother?”. She blinked rapidly. Auburn hair tossed over her shoulder. A beaming smile.

Wait...

Was she...

Trying to flirt with him?

A potential married man?

Sander saw how the other boys desperately held in their laughs. Some of them failed. Robbe’s cheeks reddened slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer this delicate question.

She just assumed he was straight?

That was such heteronormativity.

It irked the beach blonde man, that people could still think this way, like a child couldn’t have two fathers or mothers?

“He has that from me, actually.”

Six pairs of eyes bore into his. Most of them applauding the ballsy move on his part, one of them grateful for this way out. The last one, however, went through a whole process.

Confusion, calculation, realization and shame.

“Oh... I’m sorry.”, Mrs. Raymaeckers sheepishly stated. "I didn’t know. I just assumed... Ahem. Well, I’m gonna check the rest. Bye, Mr Ijzermans. Bye, Mr-”

“Driesen.”, he answered coldly.

“Bye, Mr. Driesen.” And with that, she was gone. As fast as the wind.

He didn’t like it.

He just didn’t.

How people could still think the way they did, how they would just come up to potential married men and flirt with them? How was that okay?

He knew he was clenching his fist, because of the pain. Fingernails making tiny half moons. It stung. Jealousy and anger tasting like poison in his mouth. His stare trying to find a fixated spot to calm his breathing.

He found it in some deep brown eyes.

A cautious smile coming towards him. He knew. Robbe always knew what Sander needed, even when he didn’t know himself. He was intuitive that way. His beautiful man, such a perfect human. The father of his child. And he couldn’t help, but sigh. Breathing slowly, heart thumping. A small caress around his fist, trying to soften the harsh ache. Only making the ache in his heart greater.

“Robbe”, he whispered silently.

“Yeah, Sander?”

He didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. Robbe needed to live his own life, making his own mistakes, battle his own prejudices. Feeling his own real love. So Sander just stood there. Looking at the face he adored the most and he started to notice something. It almost looked like Robbe was anticipating this, was waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of truth.

And that's when they heard it.

A David Bowie lookalike coming onto the stage.

Childlike coughing in the microphone.

The first notes of a guitar riff.

The scratchy start of ‘doodoodoo''.

The song.

David Bowie.

The sign.

“You've got your mother in a whirl She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl Hey babe, your hair's alright Hey babe, let's go out tonight You like me, and I like it all We like dancing and we look divine You love bands when they're playing hard You want more and you want it fast They put you down, they say I'm wrong You tacky thing, you put them on.

Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress Rebel rebel, your face is a mess Rebel rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so!”

[grapehyasynth]

Summer Secret, Chapter 4

“Stop looking at me like that,” Jemma whispered.

“Like what?” Fitz asked innocently, though his hand slipped a bit on his pool cue as Jemma bent over the table, the neck of her shirt draping obligingly open.

Her strike was true, sending two of the striped balls into a pocket, bringing her tied with Fitz. She smiled in satisfaction – people always forgot that thought Fitz was an engineer, she herself had on occasion out-performed him in physics seminars and examinations – and sidled over to him, accepting the glass he’d been holding for her. “Like you want to ravish me on the felt.”

She gave him credit – he didn’t choke on his beer, though his cheeks flushed prettily. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, probably only to me. And probably only because I was projecting.”

Fitz shook his head, not following.

“I was thinking about ravishing you,” Jemma explained patiently. “Go on, then, your turn.”

As she’d expected, he missed his next shot, rather badly.

“I should know better than to play with you,” he muttered.

“All’s fair in foreplay,” she said cheerily.

\\“Jemma,” he groaned, for well on the sixth time that weekend, as she sauntered over to make her next move.

It was her extended family’s last night in Perthshire, so everyone of legal age had gathered at the nearby pub – nearby being a half hour drive, in this case; it was the countryside – for a last hurrah. The adults were at a table in the corner, snorting into their drinks at Uncle Robbie’s pantomimes, which were even more elaborate and absurd than normal, even though he as designated driver was drinking only soda water.

Jemma’d promised herself she’d be good, sitting on the other side of the table from Fitz, tucking her feet under the seat so she couldn’t find his to play footsie, focusing on speaking with her aunt rather than becoming hypnotized by the way Fitz’s jawline stood out sharper as he chewed on the free corn nuts. But the tight, loud, raucous, friendly atmosphere of the bar and the heady warmth of the ale she was drinking quickly put her inhibitions at risk. She couldn’t stop glancing at Fitz, her eyes drawn to him even amidst the ample goings-on around them. Her fingers tingled, wanting to spider across the table to him; she kept licking her lips, wondering what he’d taste like tonight, maybe of wheat and hops with an undertone of lime and salt.

Eventually, it’d been nearly too much, and she’d needed to distract herself from drinking and from her failing efforts to play it cool. She’d put the notion of billiards out to the table at large, to maintain appearances, but the adults waved them off.

Now, with them both well towards tipsy and prowling around the pool table, brimming with competitiveness and denied desire and the strain of the clandestine, the tiny bit of Jemma still capable of worry wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to remain at the table with the others, or perhaps to have taken a walk to clear their heads.

Mostly, though, she was alight with the reality of playing and flirting and drinking with her gorgeous, brilliant, cocky, easily-embarrassed, secret boyfriend.

Jemma eked out the win in the end, only using her breasts and sticking out her bum to distract Fitz a few times. She’d never have done it with anyone else, having too much pride in her abilities and a need to prove herself, but Fitz already knew she was damn intelligent and manipulating him a bit wouldn’t change that. Besides, she thought, as she brushed behind him as he set up a shot and saw the back of his neck redden, she didn’t think he minded that much.

As agreed before the start of the game, Fitz, as the loser, bought them both shots. They linked elbows and threw back the gin, which they chased with a local, fruity soda.

“Wish we could go to a movie theater or something,” Fitz sighed as they lounged at the bar, letting other patrons use the pool table for a bit.

“Mmm?” Jemma traced the condensation on the wood of the bar, pretending to be watching the game but really studying the curve from his forehead to his eyebrow, down his cheek, into his lips— “Is there something good out? One of those superhero summer hits?”

“What? Oh—” Fitz blushed again; she really enjoyed making that happen. Her loosened animal brain wondered if his cock and balls would show the same rapidity of blood flow. “I didn’t actually mean – I just thought, where do kids go when they’re trying to snog but can’t do it in front of their parents? And that’d be the movies.”

“There really is nothing out here,” Jemma agreed grimly. “I love it, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always thought you and I could—” Now it was her turn to blush, and she quickly shook her head and avoided Fitz’s searching gaze. “Point is, it’s lovely here, wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but it’s all fields and trees and wide open spaces with nowhere to be alone.”

Fitz glanced towards the corner, checking that the adults were still fully involved in their conversation, and shifted on the bar stool so his body was mostly obscuring Jemma’s. He slipped his hand over the surface of the bar and under hers, stroking her palm with his fingertips.

“Just another week,” he murmured, eyes focused on the billiards game, though they didn’t move to follow the action, just sort of rested there abstractly. “In another week we’ll be back at Sci-Ops.”

“Alone at last,” Jemma concurred. Following his lead, she slid her free hand into her lap, then over onto his knee and up his thigh. The hand on hers on the bar convulsed at the tracing touches. “One more week.”

Jemma’d been trying to get a rise out of him, letting her fingers drift closer over his jeans towards the crotch, making his leg twitch, but despite the inebriation his gaze was steady, soulful, hungry but controlled. If she was getting a rise out of anyone, touching him like this, it was herself – her chest was getting strangely tight and there was an insistent narrowing of her thoughts and sensations.

“Excuse me, I have to use the loo,” she squeaked suddenly, not trusting herself to stay there a moment longer, and she hopped off the stool and dove through the crowd to the washroom in the corner, hoping Fitz wouldn’t be too put out.

The ladies’ was blessedly empty, so she sat for a moment on a closed toilet, practicing the meditation techniques she’d never really mastered as she stared at the faded red stall door, before she got up and wiped her face down with a wet paper towel. She was as bad as a stereotypical horny teenage boy, for goodness’s sake. She’d always needed porn of some sort, before, to get her going, but now just being near Fitz seemed to be enough. She wondered if she’d be able, from now on, to get herself off just by closing her eyes and imagining his touch—

She glanced at the empty stalls again, considering. It certainly wasn’t the most sanitary of places to masturbate, and she’d have to be quiet in case anyone came in, but she couldn’t very well do it back at the cottage, and it was becoming a rather pressing issue. (Not for the first time, she was glad female arousal didn’t reveal itself quite so… prominently.)

The main door swung open, but Jemma’s initial frustrated disappointment was swept aside as Fitz strode in, as if drawn by her long-distance pheromone call for relief.

“Fitz!” she hissed, suppressing her spike in arousal as he entered in favor of focusing on what was clearly the more important question at hand, “what the hell, this is the ladies’!”

He didn’t answer, but rather strode to her in a few steps, grasped her about the waist, and spun her up against the door, lining their bodies up completely. He flipped the latch next to her hip, locking the door, and brushed her hair from her shoulder so he could mouth at her collarbone. “You were saying?”

She gasped, pure heat rushing from his lips on her skin to her lower abdomen. Satisfied at their privacy, and frankly unable to care about anything but the man against her, she grabbed his face in both hands and dragged him to her, desperate for his kisses.

He did taste of lime, and salt, and gin, now, and Jemma lapped into his mouth a bit messily, chasing the flavors of Fitz. Perhaps it really was best for everyone if they kept their relationship private; this sort of kissing wouldn’t ever be appropriate in public, and she couldn’t imagine kissing him in any other way, she wanted him so badly. Kissing him was just like teasing him at billiards, or their never-ending academic rivalry, or arguments over favorites from their various television obsessions: heated, affectionate, all-in; the moment one of them gained the upper hand, the other would come up with some new, nibbling at the inside of lips or licking the roof of a mouth or drawing away so the other had to chase.

“You know,” Jemma panted, on one such of the latter occasions, dipping her head out of the way so Fitz ended up moaning against her ear in frustration, “this puts me in mind of something I saw on a show once—“

“This is what you want to talk about now?” he growled, stepping his feet outward so his legs bracketed hers.

“I think you’ll find it informative,” she promised, pressing her hips forward so she could feel his erection. Her breath hitched, and she heard Fitz inhale as well; they both glanced down, mesmerized by the contact. Jemma began to swivel her hips, almost imperceptibly, as she went on. “As I was saying, in this show, this man and this woman were engaging in a compelling flirtation, and they were at a bar, separately, and the woman went to the bathroom and the man came in, dropped to his knees, and went down on her, just like that.”

“Went down, as in—”

“Ate her out,” Jemma murmured, letting her hips fall back against the door so Fitz’s stuttered forward in loss. “Licked her until she came. Just like that. Right there in the bathroom.”

Fitz mumbled something hoarsely and dove back in to kiss her. “Do you want me to do that, Jemma?” he whispered, pupils blown wide, obviously getting hard from the idea of licking her pussy. “The door’s locked, after all.”

There was nothing Jemma could imagine wanting – needing – more, at that moment, but someone banged against the door, calling drunkenly for them to open it.

“You’re sweet,” she sighed, kissing Fitz hard, three times quickly. “But we’ve already been in here too long. You run along and I’ll just… take care of things myself. But I’ll hope you’ll keep it in \\mind,” she added, and she slid her hand between his legs and palmed him through his jeans. “For next time.”

“I’ll keep it in mind alright,” Fitz said faintly, stepping back to let her out as he unlocked the door. A woman pushed in, not even noting the presence of a man in the ladies’ as she hurried to urinate. “I’ll keep it in mind tonight, as I’m wanking in the shower. Bloody hell.”

“Good.” Jemma glanced through the open door, but the Simmons party wasn’t in view. She snuck a last bite at his earlobe. “Give you some time to brainstorm. I’ll do the same.”

Fitz grinned at her like a dopey, lovesick dog in heat and backed out of the restroom, tugging his t-shirt down over his crotch.

[zexxcandell]

👿 - An Enemy

Two Du’meres

Nine tolls of the morning bell peeled out from Cathedral Square as the citizens of Stormwind milled and moved about their daily lives of the rebuilt capital.  From man to dwarf to elf and gnome, these were the happier times of the early kingdom.  When heroes were heroes, pirates ran afoul of paladins, and the Scarlet Crusade was the worst that the people coped with. The cold war with the Horde was in full effect as a boy king would be guided by both dark and light counselors in these twilight days.  As the bell finishes it's final peel the sound rings among the cobble stone streets and along the rooftops before passing into the purple thatched homes of the Mage Quarter, slipping through an open window of a lavish town house.

A finger would softly poke at the open nose of Zexx Candell, following up with a snort and rub of his hand as the finger would skip back.  Again the long digit would move ever slowly forward before gently rubbing at the tip of his nose cause him to snort and cough again as his larger hand would come up to swat at whatever was poking him.  A soft musical laugh followed as the finger danced back once again as a melodic voice would fill his ears, a slow smile coming to creep along his face.  One final poke would end with his hand flying up to grab the other by the finger and joined laughter following, the kind of laughter of young love that wasn't content just remaining laughter.

Ten tolls of the morning bell resounded, Zexx lay across the bed his feet hanging over one side as he looked upside down at the woman before him scrambling to get dressed.  His grin was large and happy as she in turned returned to him with as much warmth and love as he felt in his heart for her as well."What?" she asked of him as she shimmied into her dress, the young man's blue eyes watching her intently as she began to smooth the red fabric out before she asked him again.  "Zexx?""Sorry Ops, was just I guess a bit mesmerized by you there for a second," he chuckled as he slowly sat up with a groan, his arms stretching out before him to stretch out his body complete."Uh huh, well you need to hurry and get out here.  Some of us have jobs we need to attend too," Oplisca spoke as he leaned down to pick up his trousers from the floor and throw them at him from behind."I have a, uff, job," Zexx retorted as the leather britches struck him in the back of the head and wrapped about him before sliding down behind him in a pile."I mean a real job, not flying around with your dwarf buddies and pillaging the Dark Irons in Blackrock and the Badlands.  You know the kind of job that doesn't end with bullet holes and explosions." Oplisca responded to him with the same tone she'd used many times before regarding his work with the Stonefist Clan."Aw, why would I want to do that?  If I had to sit still that long I'd probably kill myself in a week!" Zexx half laughed as he pulled his pants around and slipped his legs in with a grunt as he turned to plant his feet on the rich carpet of his lover's room.The woman stiffened in her spot as she heard him, her eyes closing as she held tight to the amulet she was starting to put on, her voice growing angry and hurt as she responded to him, "That's not funny, Zexx."The swordsman's shoulders slumped as suddenly seeming more like a kicked dog than a cavalier warrior he tried to be as he stood up from the bed and moved up behind her.  His arms gently wrapped about her waist as he laid his head in the nape of her neck and spoke softly, "I'm sorry, that wasn't appropriate at all.  I didn't mean it like that."Oplisca took in a shaky breath as she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of her lover.  Oil, herbs, sex, and drink.  How the hell did she let him come to her like that every night?  She could feel the hairs on his chin brush along her bare skin as she smiled and remembered quite well why, but she'd be damned if she let him know.  "I know you didn't mean.  Just, don't talk like that ever alright?  You know with my mother, I just can't go through with that again.""I know, I know.  I'm sorry, Ops."  His words brushed along her skin with the ease of his breath as she was beginning to be half tempted to turn and throw him back into bed.  But it was getting late.  She gently pat at his hands about her waist to get him to let go of her.  "Come on, love.  I have to get to work or Kinowin will get suspicious.""To hell with Kino, stay with me," He spoke again into her neck as she opened her eyes and rolled them, gently bumping back at him to let her go.  His strong arms still wrapped around her made him only snicker as he tried to bump back at her, their mutual laughter coming together after the tense words earlier."I can't and you know that.  The shops needs to be open and I have vendors coming later today." She could hear him grumble something before gently rubbing at her waist and letting her go to step back, Oplisca only smiled as she fastened the emerald amulet about her neck.  She peered over her shoulder at him as he began to scrounge about for his belongings his light footwork taking him about the room to gather his stuff.  Looking at herself in the mirror, the half-elf woman smiled softly at her image in the silver glass.  

Oplisca Du'mere was lucky enough to get near all the physical traits of her father as she was able to get a good of her mother's nature.  Her long blonde hair pulled up into a bun on the back of her head to reveal her slightly pointed ears from her mixed heritage.  The blue eyes she had gotten from his well were mixed with the quiet dignity instilled from her mother along with the willowy body both of her parents had had.  Her hand would check the gold rings she kept on her fingers and once again smoothed her red robe as she smiled widely at the professional image she portrayed.  Sighing happily she turned around to see the direct opposite of her image.Zexx was Zexx.  Her young suitor was all about living on the cheap and enjoying each day, she supposed that was why she found him so endearing.  His toothy grin was infectious and his bright blue eyes were an even match for her own though far more wild than she could ever be.  He come into her life in a whirlwind with his mates into the Recluse and to her own surprise she was quite smitten with the pirate.  Or was he a warrior?  Or a knight?  Watching him struggle to put on his beat up boots, she had to cover her mouth not to laugh at him as he hopped around on one foot.  She loved him and she was sure he loved her.  "You look ridiculous."Zexx came to a halt in his hopping to look up at her, grinning back to her he would finally hold still long enough to shove his foot all the way into the leather boot.  Stepping forward he would twist his ankle and leg about to get comfortable before hoping a moment and stood proud.  "Maybe, but hey got my shoes on before you.""Good," as she stepped lightly over to her door and lifted up his sword belt to carry over to him with a clatter of leather and steel.  "It means you can get out of here before Kino sees you."

"Pff, how long do you expect to dance around your brother?  He's gonna figure it out.  I mean, we're not exactly the most quiet couple," his grin broke out on his goateed face, she rolled her eyes and moved back to slip her shoes on."As long as I want to, thank you very much.  You don't know Kinowin as I do.""I know he's mad little wizard with delusions of grandeur," Zexx grumbled as he strapped on his belts, the leather tightening as he checked the basket hilt of his rapier and pommel of his short sword.  "I can deal with him.""Maybe, but I don't want you to deal with him.  I want you to get along with him." Oplisca went to grab Zexx's vest from floor and offered the worn blue vest to him as he gently snatched him from him.  "He has plans, and when they don't go his way he make it very well known.""Well, when are you gonna get to have your own plan?"  Zexx muttered again as he turned the vest about and pulled it on with a grunt, finding a string handing off the hem of it as he began to tug at it drawing more of it out."Stop that," Ops scold him as she slapped his hands away and deftly took the string in the practiced manner of seamstress to snap the string he'd been pulling before placing it in his hand.  "When are you going to buy some new clothes?""When am I gonna buy new clothes?  When am I gonna get a job?  When am I coming back? When when when.  Cripes, woman, when are you gonna quit picking on me?"  Complaining loudly as he opened the door to her room and held it open for her.She smiled sweetly, grabbing her shawl the small fainting couch in front of her bed before wrapping it about her shoulders.  Oplisca came to a halt before him, leaning up to plant a soft kiss to his lips.  "When you get out of my house."  Giggling she made her way down the hall with him trailing her steps.

It was raining outside, a light drizzle that helped to signal the end of the summer and beginning of the autumn time despite the perpetual green of the quarters magically aided foliage.  Oplisca stood quietly in the drizzle as she pulled up the shawl over her head with a smile as Zexx closed the door to her home with a click, hearing Flo inside say goodbye before the oak cut her off.  A smile still on her face as she turned to face her slowly dampening lover as she stepped in close to him, his grin returned to her before wrapping his arms about her waist and leaning down to kiss her once again.  The electric shock of young love flashed between them again as they stood in the rain for a few moments in embrace, caring little for whoever might be passing by.  Oplisca would be the first to break the embrace and stepping back from with that same bright smile, letting it linger a few moments not needing words to express her.  Backing away she would turn and head down the alleyways of the quarter toward the little textile shop she owned, the swordsman never stopping in his grin watching her red clothed form disappear among the crowd.  Once gone he would whistle a tune and waltzed away from the Du'mere house into the city streets himself.

Far above the quarter among the magically hidden rooms of the Sanctum sat a hunched figure.  His robes blue trimmed in lavender and silver lovingly stitched by a quick and gentle hand matched to his high fitted hat as leaned back from the scrying orb before his chair.  His blue eyes blazed with fury as he clenched his hands into balls of anger, the chair he sat in soon kicked back to fall to the stone floor with a clatter.  Kinowin Du'mere had seen all and would know all.

"Insolent girl!  How dare she disobey me?  She does not even begin to fathom..how could she..with that talent-less imbecile.  I will burn them.  I will burn them both and they will know not to trifle with me," by now the wizard was pacing about the magical study he had procured, shouting as he let his fury burn the room.  His clenched hands soon lite with blue flame as he gnashed his teeth at his disobedient sister and that worthless interloper, the arcane energies flowing through him with ease thanks to his emotional distress.

As quickly as he lost control he was slowing down, his breathing returning to normal as he felt an icy cold fill his being and steady him.  The voice of reason in his head gently chiding him for throwing a tantrum and putting on his own private little show.  It was pathetic.  Chastised and calming again, Kinowin would slowly lower his hands and stand still a  moment taking deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth.  Now was not the time to lose his head, there was too much at stake for Oplisca and himself.  He would end this.

((Sorry about the long wait, but I hope you enjoyed @shadowdagger-family ))

[wildefiction]

Focus

WORD COUNT: 2,766

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Reader has an awkward encounter with someone at lunch

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Possessive Behavior, Clumsiness, Awkward Interactions, Flirting

SEVEN

Going through the motions of getting ready for bed was something you’d never paid a lot of attention to. Tonight, certainly hadn’t changed that. If anything, you were more distracted as the events of the evening played on an endless loop in your mind.

Changing into cotton sleep pants and a tank top, you wandered into the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth.

Was tonight a date then? When you’d agreed to having dinner with Chris, you’d assumed it was strictly business. Or at the very most, a friendly get together between friends.

Pulling the covers back, you slid between the cool sheets of the firm hotel mattress. Creation had sprung for a room at the convention hotel – something you definitely weren’t used to. Normally, when working an event, the logistics of transportation and sleeping arrangements was left to you. Having it taken care of in advance was a nice gesture. Maybe Chris had been responsible. Chris.

At the opposite end of the hallway, the man in question sat at the edge of his own bed, huddled over the phone clutched in one hand. He’d written and re-written a goodnight text to [Y/F/N] several times. Why was this so difficult? Conversation had always flowed easily between them. Dinner had been comfortable. But, the kiss? The kiss hadn’t been planned. It had, however, felt right. His original intention over dinner was to catch up with a friend, and maybe hint at his developing feelings. While hesitant, he’d given her the opportunity to control the situation. She too, had been careful. Still, that seed was now planted and Chris wondered if she was thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her. Maybe it was his knowledge that Rob was starting to show interest, maybe it was the fact that he’d had a growing crush on [Y/F/N] for years. Either way, he was both fearing and looking forward to what the morning would bring.

Taking the safe route, he typed out a quick text and set his alarm before switching off the bedside lamp. Throwing himself, still fully clothed, face-down on top of the blankets, Chris pulled a pillow towards his body. Burying his face into the cotton fabric, he did his best to clear his mind of the idea of what it might be like to have [Y/F/N] in his life on a regular basis.

The following morning [Y/F/N] pulled herself out of bed, sleep having eluded her most of the night. Rummaging through her suitcase, the pair of skinny jeans and Foo Fighters shirt on top of the pile worked well enough. Padding barefoot over to the mini-fridge in the corner of her room, she thumbed through the individual packets of coffee and tea, settling for a strong cup of earl-grey. While waiting for the water to heat in the small coffee machine, she allowed her mind to wander. When thoughts became coherent she was abruptly reminded of the previous night. Apprehension prickled across her skin, the tiny hairs on her arms standing at attention as waves of goosebumps flowed over them. Finding a small container of half and half in the refrigerator, you stood mesmerized as the liquid swirled through the dark caffeine.

When you’d finished getting ready and had gathered your camera bag, you took a deep breath, squared your shoulders and pulled open the hotel room door. Today would be fine. You’d made the conscious decision to treat today like any other, one kiss wouldn’t change anything…right?

The walk to the elevator was quiet, the steady hum of the ice-machine keeping you company while you waited. Once on the bottom floor, the doors opened to a sea of people. The energy level in the lobby was immense, their excited conversations making you feel right at home. The bustle of the crowd was something that, ten years ago, would have terrified you. Spending the last decade of your life traveling to conventions that were twice this size had gradually made you more comfortable around people. Thinking back to the extreme introvert you’d been at your first show, you laughed to yourself. While you still valued quiet time spent binging shows on Netflix, you also now really loved being in the thick of things. Weaving through the sea of bodies, the photo op room straight ahead, your comfortable confidence turned quickly to embarrassment when you tripped over an abandoned duffel bag. Having purposefully hugged the wall to stay out of the way, it was doubly embarrassing. Watching, dismayed, as the paper cup clutched in one hand flew out of your grip and landed on the polished wooden floor, you threw your arms out in front of you, squeezing your eyes shut. Tense, you prepared to hit the ground. Cautiously, you cracked open an eye when you didn’t immediately collide with the hard surface that was now covered in tea. Blinking first at the puddle on the ground and then glancing towards the small group of people who’d seen what was about to happen and had stopped to help, the narrow fingers wrapped around your upper arm took a moment to register. Solidly back on your feet, you turned to find Rob standing behind you, concern written across his face. “Hey [Y/F/N], are you alright?!” his blue eyes scanned your body for any hint of injury, and, satisfied that nothing was amiss, he released your arm. Of course, it had to be Rob who’d witnessed just how uncoordinated you could be. Heat colored your cheeks as you nodded, trying your best to not draw attention to yourself. “Yeah, I’m good. Clumsy maybe, but that’s nothing new..” With a disgruntled sigh, you moved to clean up the mess your cup had caused. “My poor tea.” You’d really been looking forward to it too. Looking up from the floor when Rob kneeled to offer his help, you reached out, covering his hand with yours, “I’ll get this. I’m sure you have other places to be.” “Thank you though.” “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…? I’ll see you later?” Nodding, you watched as he rose to his feet, turning once to look back over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. Twenty minutes later you’d finally made your way to work, apologizing to Chris for being late. He didn’t seem to mind, a careless wave his only response before resuming his set-up. As with the day before, people began lining up outside the door before the first ops were scheduled. Busying yourself with preparing your camera, you didn’t notice Rob walk in from across the room. “Hello again [Y/F/N], you sure you’re okay?” Glancing up from where he stood nearby, Chris’ face filled with confusion, “why wou–what happened?” As earlier, with Rob, you waved off his distress. “Nothing happened, just me being my normal awkward self.” Shooting him a quick smile as a sign of reassurance, you turned to thank Rob again for his concern. “Here…I, uh, I got you this.” He carried two cups, one now held out in your direction. What transpired next might’ve been embarrassing had you stopped to think about it. Skirting the table you stood behind, you were vaguely aware of some noise of excitement leaving your body - eyes lighting up with appreciation. A quick press of your lips to his cheek left him blushing, the fingers of his free hand traveling up to linger over the spot. “You’re a life-saver, thank you!” Turning with the cup in your hand, you raised it to take a long swallow - the warm liquid comforting with its notes of lavender and bergamot. “Really, it was no trouble - I figured if you were anything like me, not having your morning caffeine wasn’t really an option.” Placing the cup securely at the back of the table, where it couldn’t possibly spill, you missed the calculating look Chris shot at Rob. Several hours passed without further incident, and you were really beginning to enjoy yourself. While normal conventions were fun, the feeling of absolute inclusivity and the interactions between guests and their fans at these Supernatural specific events really couldn’t be beat. Suddenly ravenous, you glanced up at the line of people waiting for pictures with Misha. There looked to be about twenty left; the last several of them having made it into the room. Having looked at the schedule, you knew that a break for lunch was imminent. After the last person filed out of the space, Misha ducked through a side door, one of his favorite tricks in the ever - entertaining game of conveniently losing his handler. The poor woman had stepped out of the room for an entire fifteen seconds, and had now returned to see her charge missing in action. Curling one hand into a shaking fist at her side, you looked to make sure she was okay as you started walking towards the door. “I’m gonna go try and find some food, did you want to come?” The question was directed at Chris, who’d spent the first half of the day being his normal, flirty self. Nothing seemed to have changed in his behavior after the kiss last night and you weren’t sure if that was because it hadn’t meant anything to him or if it had and he was waiting for you to decide on where this was going… whatever ‘this’ was. “I’ve actually got some snacks stashed away in my bag, but feel free to take as long as you need.” Chris’ eyes flicked across the room to where Misha’s handler had composed herself in an impressively short amount of time. “I swear, that man is such a child!” Shaking her head, she leaned into the wide metal bar that stretched across the door, disappearing through the opening after waving goodbye to the both of you. A mischievous smile pulled at one side of Chris’ mouth, as he sauntered over to where you were standing. Coming to a standstill behind you, he raised his hands to rest on your shoulders. Flexing his fingers, he began to massage the muscles of your neck. Rolling your shoulders and humming with contentment, you allowed your eyes to drift shut. Leaning over your right shoulder, Chris’ breath was warm against your skin, “unless you wanna stay here…with me?” A prickling warmth ran through your body with his suggestion, but you really were hungry. With a sigh, you turned around, catching the brief look of disappointment on Chris’ face before his features settled into pleasant indifference. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you stepped closer, staring up at those incredibly clear blue eyes. “As much as I’d like that, I really do need to get something to eat. You won’t like me when I’m hangry.” With a small chuckle under his breath, Chris took the hint, stepping back to give you some space. “Fair enough, fair enough.” Grabbing your wallet from beneath the table, you headed for the door. Turning to wave goodbye to Chris, your heart quickened when he winked, grinning like a fool before turning back to his work. ‘Damn him and that infernal winking…’ The door opened right as you reached for it, “Oh, hello again [Y/F/N]..are you following me?” The teasing smile on Rob’s face made you laugh as he stood back to hold the door for you. “You wish, Benedict.” It was your turn to wink as you smiled, heading past him into the surprisingly quiet hallway. Everyone else must be at lunch too. “Hah..yeah, maybe.” Raising a hand to rub nervously over the back of his head, he looked a little sheepish. “Oh, uh, [Y/F/N]?” Slowing, you turned to look back over your shoulder. “Yeah, Rob?” “I..uhm. Did…did you want to grab drinks later?” “It’s totally cool if not – I just..uh..ne-nevermind…” stammering, his face turned red as his anxiety took over. Looking to make a quick retreat, he turned towards the photo op room, looking anywhere but at you. Worry creased your forehead. Securing your bag over one shoulder, you called out, “Hey, wait a second!” The man was still blushing as he turned back to look at you, his eye-contact fleeting at best. “Not even gonna wait for my answer?” Reaching out, your fingers brushed across arms that were tightly crossed over his chest. The hint of a lopsided grin his only response, you could see the cautious excitement in his stunning blue eyes. What was it with the men at this convention? They were all so beautiful, you were almost afraid to meet anyone else. “Drinks sound fantastic. How about tonight? I know I’ve got the promotional shoot with you and the band after lunch – we could grab a bite too?” The tentative smile on your face must have reassured him, because he nodded, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief. “See? Not so scary after all.” Nudging him with one shoulder in an effort to get him to relax, it was your turn to blush when he did manage to speak. “Yeah, I’m sorry…you’re just…you’re really pretty and that makes me nervous.” “Well, you seem really sweet and I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ll see you later.” Squeezing his shoulder, you turned away, determined to find something to eat before anything else distracted you. ***** “What was that?” Chris had approached Rob as [Y/F/N] continued down the hall. “I thought you weren’t going to pursue her?” Rob was almost in a daze, he couldn’t believe she had agreed to going out with him. He turned to face the other man, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Figured I’d try…I mean, the most she could do was say no, right?” Chris remained silently contemplative. Over the years, he’d seen his friend unknowingly steal people’s hearts. It really wasn’t his fault; the man was unapologetically enchanting. Chris loved Rob like a brother, he just hoped both of them being interested in [Y/F/N] wouldn’t change that. ***** Sitting in a rare, quiet corner of the hotel bistro, the special of the day having just been delivered – you pulled out your phone, scrolling through various social media feeds while enjoying your lunch. After several minutes an odd feeling washed over you. Looking up from the metal basket that held your lunch, you were surprised to see someone standing at your table. The woman looked to be in her early thirties, a cheerful, if not completely sincere smile plastered across her face. “Hi there! You must be [Y/F/N]?” Large, chocolate eyes stared down at you – the woman’s tense posture unnerving. Noting the Supernatural shirt she wore, you smiled back at her. “Hi, yes, I’m sorry – uhm, have we met?” “You’re here for the convention, right? This is my first one and I’m terrible with names…” Setting the remainder of your wrap back in the cheerful, paper-lined basket it had come in, you dusted off your hands – extending one to introduce yourself. The woman’s eyes flicked between your outstretched hand and your face for several agonizing moments. Choosing to ignore your handshake, she adjusted her bag – pulling out the chair across from you and lowering herself into the metal seat. “So, how do you know Chris?!” Baffled at the abruptness of her question, and at the fact that she’d yet to introduce herself – you weren’t quite sure how to answer. “Uhm, well, we’re friends? He uh, he kind of taught me a lot of what I know about photography. We’ve known each other for years.” Deciding to overlook the odd behavior the woman had shown initially, you tried to keep the conversation light; friendly. “Are you guys friends too?” You were genuinely happy to meet new people and if she was friends with Chris, you knew the two of you would get along quite well. Chris’ positive personality and raw friendliness attracted only the best people. “Chris and I are very good friends. I’ve been to every convention since they’ve started. So, yeah, we have a special relationship.” The tight-lipped smile still lingered on her face, her eyes narrow. Standing abruptly, the shrill scrape of the chair legs against the stone floor was deafening. Turning without so much as a goodbye, the woman hurried off – leaving you both perplexed and a little concerned. Without a doubt, that was the strangest interaction you’d had so far. Making a mental note to ask Chris about her, you finished your lunch before making your way back to the convention.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TAGS: @wings-of-a-raven @jamielea81 @natasha-cole