#otp :: mickey & mason

[ceruleanmusings]

the impression that i get - mickames

i've had the basis of this dialogue exchange in my head for ages but couldn't figure out what fic to put it in and where or how until i decided to just take it out and make it its own scene instead of trying to shoe-horn it in somewhere else. i was going to wait and post this on james' canon birthday in two days but i got impatient. i need the fluff. this is set in season 2. @raging-violets @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

“You’re still here?” James asked, leaning against the door frame to Kelly’s office. Feet crossed at angles, hands shoved in pockets, arm pressed against the wood from forearm, backpack hanging off the crook of his bent elbow. The perfect pose of nonchalance—practiced nonchalance because he had to always have everything regarding his appearance on point.

Mickey glanced at him from around Kelly’s laptop on her standing desk. It was the slight crease to her brow that made him realize his mistake.

It was Wednesday.

He knew that.

He knew she knew he knew that.

She always stayed behind to help Kelly with her administrative work on Wednesdays. It usually amounted to taking messages or ignoring calls Kelly didn’t want to deal with or translating meeting notes or updating contact information for potential talent recruitment.

“You’re still here,” she commented, still looking at him but clicking at something on the screen. “Didn’t you finish laying down tracks a few hours ago?”

He did, indeed. Getting songs done in one take wasn’t hard for him but he wanted to make sure they had more than one perfect track to use. It was always good to have options, wasn’t it? “Gustavo wanted me to get some new headshots done.”

The crease smoothed out and was replaced with the tiniest of smiles pulling back the corner of her mouth. Anyone else might not have noticed but he for sure did. He’d spend enough time looking at her. He had all her micro expressions memorized.

“He wasn’t a fan of Hot Janitor or Hot Librarian?”

“No!” James rolled his eyes and stood straight. Clearly Gustavo didn’t know what he was talking about. “I, for one, think he’s just jealous.”

“Well, he has a few things to choose from on that front.”

He didn’t have a chance to dig more into that comment because her attention too quickly moved back to the screen. All mirth left her face and a deep concentration took over as she hid behind the screen once more. He twisted his mouth to the side. That wasn’t how he planned this encounter to go. He had to keep it going.

“What’re you doing?” He stepped further into the room, his steps halting and tentative. It wasn’t that he thought Kelly would stoop so low to have shock pads on the floors of her office but, well, Gustavo had some interesting ways to corral them that he wouldn’t entirely put past the staff of Rocque Records to be a little unique themselves.

“Uncle Gustavo wants his audition tapes organized.” She sighed and rubbed an eye. “Thing is it’s already sorted and named by date, but he wants folders in folders and some arbitrary system that makes sense to no one else but him.” She lifted a piece of paper that had what looked to be chicken scratch scribbled all over it.

James nodded. “Sounds like Gustavo alright.”

She hummed and slapped the paper back down on the desk. A few loose Starburst wrappers—pinks and reds—flew off the desk. “Thankfully it’s only for the last year so it’s not too much but…”

Last year? James’ ears perked up. That meant his audition had to be in there somewhere. Had she seen it? Studying her face gave him no answers. She had a way of keeping everything locked up tight. And with her concentration thrown on top of it, chipping away would have to be delicate.

“Didyouwatchmine?”

Being delicate wasn’t his strong suit.

Something crossed her face, a sort of careful contemplation mixed with that made every second pass like an eternity. “Yes,” she finally answered. The simple word nearly knocked him over. Or maybe it was the gust of relief wooshing out of him that made him take a step back. Made him take stock of the reality of the conversation they were having. She’d seen his audition. She had thoughts about his audition. He needed to know what they were.

"And?" The question burst out of him, his body nearly vibrating with anticipation.

"And I thought you were good.” She shrugged, shuffled papers again, and put them in the small metal basket marked OUT with a small white label. Oh. Good. Not great or fantastic or anything. Just good. But “good” was better than nothing wasn’t it? He could take good. “And then you stage-dived onto security.” She pointed at the screen as if to remind him.

“Yeah, well, Kendall needed my help." James shrugged. “He had my back. I needed to have his.”

That look came back to her face. Her mouth twisted to the side and, for second, he didn’t think she’d say anything but, after a small shake of her head, she continued, ”…For the record, I thought Uncle Gustavo was crazy not to initially pick you.”

“Really?” He for sure thought so, especially following up with his crazy idea that James had no talent. But to hear someone else say it to him, for her to say it to him, he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A light flush came to her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “…But it all worked out in the end. For the best, I think. You belong here.” She flashed a small smile and he may as well have burst into a thousand pieces. He wasn’t hard to please: some pie, a compliment or two, maybe tell him they were proud of him, someone acknowledging his talents and his efforts, and he was good to go. But this…

She’d said that to him before; in fact he remembered it was the very first thing she’d ever said to him, and it meant as much now as it did then, nearly a year ago. She had to have said that on purpose, right?

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” James nearly groaned when Kelly came into her office. She had to notice she was ruining the moment, right? Because there definitely was a moment and he wasn’t making it up. He wouldn’t come crashing back down to reality like that if there hadn’t been one. The little wings on his feet must’ve melted.

“Almost done,” Mickey replied though the weariness in her words clued James in she didn’t actually believe it. But it was probably what Kelly wanted to hear. “Are you ready to go?”

Kelly grimaced. “That’s the thing. We had another meeting called; it’s going to take some time. You should probably grab a bus and head home.” Mickey groaned. “I’m sorry but those pesky things called child labor laws have my hands tied.”

“You’re not even paying me.”

Kelly gestured with her ever-present clipboard. “And that makes it worse.” Her eyes slid over to James. “You should be going too.” Walking past him, Kelly moved to her desk, pausing only to give a brief glance at the scattered candy wrappers on the floor before reaching for a drawer. It slid open with a few squeaks and she removed her purse, then her wallet, then some money. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Mickey’s palm, “I won’t be too late. If I am, you girls can order a pizza.”

Mickey clicked her tongue and pocketed the money. “You say that like you’re doing us a favor, but you just don’t want to do the dishes if we make dinner.

“Two things can be true at once,” Kelly replied and then kissed her cheek. Kelly was back out of the room in a flurry, sucking the past ease out behind her in her fast-moving wake. Awkwardness settled in. Mickey shifted her weight from foot to foot before she went around turning off the computer, checking the drawers of Kelly’s desk and filing cabinets, closing the blinds, watering some plants he thought was fake, turning on a desk lamp, to turn off the overhead lights, grab her bag, and lock the door. James watched it all with curious eyes. He’d seen enough rom-coms—enjoyed them, devoured them, studied them—to know The Stall. But was it for his benefit?

“I’ll wait with you,” he said when she gave him a look, turning away from the door. “I’m heading in the same direction anyway.” She couldn’t argue that. Kelly did tell him to leave too, after all. She played with the keys in her hands, they jingled and jangled in her twitchy grip, and she nodded.

She still swung them in restless fingers when the bus drove up five minutes later. It was drowned out by the loud hiss as the bus settled and the doors opened. People gathered and bunched up, waiting to board after others got off. James swung his bag to the front digging in it as the line moved forward. Mickey boarded and he stepped back, still rooting around, giving space to others.

Finally, he found a few crumpled bills at the bottom of his bag—the leftovers of his per diem from the week—and dropped it in the collection container at the front of the bus. He quickly navigated his way past the rows at the front until he reached Mickey’s and dropped into the empty seat next to her. She froze, earbuds dangling from fingers halfway to her ears to stare at him.

“James?”

“Yes?” He settled his bag on his lap and stretched one leg out into the aisle. He forgot how close the seats could be.

“You don’t live this way.”

The bus rocked with new passengers boarding. “I know.”

“You’re going in the opposite direction.”

“For now.” She blinked. “You don’t like the bus.” She blinked again. Hmm. Maybe he needed to be a bit more obvious. “I’ll just ride it with you this way and take one back to the Palm Woods.”

It took for the bus doors to close and another hiss to be release as the bus pulled away for her to speak again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.” Her hands slowly lowered back to her lap, earbuds rolling between her twisting fingers. His skin burned beneath her scrutinizing gaze. Okay, he had to change the subject. Lighten the mood. Find a safe topic to talk about. And what better, safter, topic than himself? “So! My audition really must have stood out!”

“…Among others.”

“Did I make a lasting impression?” He bumped her shoulder with his own as he asked, smoothing over his question, downplaying it even though it was filled with sincerity. He wanted to know. Needed to know, even.

“You’ve made a few.” In the past? Recently? Right now? What. Did. That. Mean? His answer came a second later, like an afterthought, "Your first impression was great.”

Awesome! Upgraded from good to great!

“Your second, not so much.”

A record scratched in his head "....Huh?"

The bus rattled and shook as they moved over a bump. Her nerves seemed to shake out her thoughts along with it. "Aunt Kelly would send some of the auditions to us. Usually the bad ones so we could laugh about them. Yours was really good. I actually had Mel call them to yell at them for me for how wrong Gustavo was.”

His mind whirled, slow to catch back up from that jarring hit. He hadn’t been rattled that hard since the hockey state semi-finals in freshman year when he had a cheapshot from behind into the plexiglass. Like then, it took a bit for him to reorient himself. So that meant… “…You’ve seen my audition before.”

“Yes. You, um, how can I put this?” She paused and he waited, held his breath, didn’t make a sound. He wanted to be sure he caught every word. She always chose them so carefully. “You had this…soul? To the song. I haven’t heard anyone else sing it like you did. Like you were deeply feeling the words and what he was saying. Which…only made me believe it. You know?”

“Oh.” He should’ve been able to come up with something better but his brain glitched as he took on the new information.

 “After Kelly told us the news Gustavo was making a boy band? I, um, was hoping to meet you at some point. Especially after the song you chose.” He gaped at her and shrugged. “Which is why I was so confused that the James from the audition was so different from the James I met at the Palm Woods.”

“Oh.” He really needed to find something better to say. Sorry didn’t even come close. But how could he explain just what he felt when he first saw her? It was like he was struck by lightning, like everything he’d done in his life had brought him to that moment. Like he had an answer to a question he didn’t know existed or he’d been trying to find.

So he chased that feeling, that experience, and her by extension. And he messed it all up.

Boy, was he a giant turd.

Still… “…How’m I doing now?”

“…They say, third time’s the charm, right?” She bumped his shoulder with his, smiling softly. The sight of it made his shoulders drop and his breath ease. She held out one of her earbuds, gesturing to his ear. “I still have some bad auditions saved if you want to watch them.”

“Um, yeah!”

He pressed the earbud into his ear and leaned close, heads resting against each other’s while she pressed play.

[lazynotbored]

mason + mickey 9. 1. 1.

camp!au | friends to lovers | “are you sure this is legal?” | @rachellwrites​

mickey couldn't sleep and if she turned on a light to read, the moths would come for her. instead she snuck out of the girl's councilor cabin after dark, it was just a short walk she told herself. but she ended up in front of the boy's councilors cabin that was all the way across camp. she looked around for witnesses before climbing a nearby ledge to peek into the cabin. there he was, mason, her life line at camp, her best friend or maybe more, she couldn't tell just yet. it was the night, she'd decided, if she just waited for him to make a move the summer would soon be over. mickey just had to wake him up without waking any of the other councilors. easy. she dug into her pockets, she had a hair tie and a flashlight. her first plan was to slingshot her hair tie at him through the window but with some quick inspection the windows wouldn't open. instead she did the risky thing and shined the flashlight into the room it's beam was pretty focused, she pointed it into his eyes and waived it about. the lanky brunet rustled awake. once she had his attention she pointed the flashlight to illuminate her face. he was visibly scared until recognition hit. mickey held in a laugh while miming for him to come outside. he did.

"it's past lights out this better be good" he whisper scolded once they were a few yards from any sleeping quarters.

"i wanted to hang out with you" the moonlight somehow supercharged her pleading puppy dog face because he physically couldn't say no to her. she grinned in victory and took his hand. they walked passed the fire pit and the cafeteria. mason had run out of ideas for where they could be going. mickey continued through to the border of trees earning a tug from the taller male.

"we're not going in there!"

"don't be a chicken!" she giggled pulling him harder they didn't go too far before finding the edge of the fence that kept campers out of the lake unless accompanied by staff. In mickey's mind they were staff and so the rules didn't apply.

"are you sure this is legal?" he asked skeptically as she dropped his hand.

her hands moved to begin undressing "i'm not going to tell anyone are you?" she could tell he was flustered as her clothes fell to reveal a matching set of underwear. "that's what i thought." she giggled as the cool water touched her feet. she continued until only her head emerged from the water "are you going to join me?" there they were again her pleading eyes powered by the moon.

he stripped down to his boxers and jumped in, splashing mickey. she couldn't help laughing as she wiped her eyes and ran a hand over her wet hair. she swam closer, the water rippling around her like a painting. he wasn't 100% positive this wasn't a dream. "mason" she smiled as the distance between them became less and less.

"yeah" he didn't mean to swallow at that moment, but it made him feel more like prey. water droplets decorated his glasses and dripped from his hair down his nose.

"i'm going to kiss you" it was fair warning, she even let their noses touch first to give him time to object. but he didn't.

"okay" it was muttered into the warm summer air before her lips found his. the crickets seemed to cheer.

she anchored herself to him by wrapping her arms around his neck. wasn't sure how long they'd been gone, in their own realm where time stood still but once their lips parted with a clumsy smack the seconds began to tick again and their chests began to breathe deep breaths. both their faces held large grins as they silently dared the other to do it again.

[seredelgi]

Top 19 favourite slash otps part 2/2

10. Ste & Harry- Hollyoaks (UK) 9. Bruno & Pol- Merlì (Spain) 8. Pim & Gino- North sea texas (Belgium) 7. Agron & Nasir- Spartacus (US) 6. Corey & Mason- Teen wolf (US) 5. Ian & Mickey- Shameless (US) 4. Isak & Even- Skam (Norway) 3. Maurice & Alec- Maurice (UK) 2. Sieger & Marc- Boys (Netherlands) 1. Jack & Ennis- Brokeback mountain (US)

[disneywizard]

Tagged

I was tagged by @traveling-magpie​. Thanks! <3

RULES ARE EASY: TAG 9 PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET KNOW BETTER

Relationship status: Single.  Been single since...God...2008 I think, so almost a decade now.  I’ve been on dates, but no long term relationships.  It’s kinda lonely and frustrating; especially this time of year, but I believe that God has someone special in mind for me, so I guess I don’t mind waiting.  Because whoever she is, I truly believe that she’s worth the wait.  I’ll cop to having a crush on someone though.  

Last song I listened to: The Bare Necessities from The Jungle Book Soundtrack.  Classic, not the 2016 reboot.  

Last book read: Rebel Genius, by Michael Dante DiMartino.  Bonus: I’m listening to the Rain of the Ghosts Audiobook by Greg Weisman to and from work.  Two of my favorite animated television producers have written novels and they are SERIOUSLY good reads.  

Favorite color: Sapphire Blue

Top 3 shows: Easiest Question.  In order, Disney’s Gargoyles, Dreamworks Trollhunters, and Disney’s Gravity Falls.

Top 3 characters: This is actually harder than the three shows question.  Because if I’m allowed ANY three characters...Then it gets really really hard.  I’m gonna cheat.  I’m gonna do three Animated Series Characters, Three Book Characters, and Three Random Media Characters.  Nine total.  I’ll restrict myself to one per media though.  

Animated Series: Sir Griff from Gargoyles; he’s a griffin-shaped gargoyle from WWII who freaking fights Nazis and becomes one of King Arthur’s Knights. I don’t think that I need to say anything else. One sentence of concentrated awesome for you.  Clair Nuñez from Trollhunters; she’s a theater geek who loves riddles, memorizes Shakespeare, and appropriates the signature weapon of the series creepiest villain, and claims it as her own.  Clair is best Character.  Pacifica Northwest from Gravity Falls; Ford and Dipper almost claimed this spot, but I settled on Pacifica because her redemption episode is one of my absolute favorites in the whole series, and this is a series which I feel never had a bad episode.  Even my favorite series; Gargoyles had a handful of clunkers.

Book: Reepicheep; Chronicles of Narnia, Tars Tarkas; John Carter of Mars Series, Rain Cacique; Rain of the Ghosts.  I’m not giving you my reasons why for these.  READ A BOOK AND FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF!  

Random Media: Mickey Mouse; surprising no one who noticed that I go by “DisneyWizard” Quiverwing Duck; an Alternate Universe version of Darkwing Duck from DW’s recent comic run.  Lillie from Pokémon Sun/Moon who had more character development and growth than any character in the Pokémon Franchise to date.  

Top 3 ships: Typically, I’m what I refer to as a CanonShipper.  My preference is for whatever ships happen to be canon to the media that I’m consuming.  I feel if writing is good, then the creator knows better than I do who is meant to be and who isn’t, and if the writing isn’t good, then I lack interest in the property anyway.  That being said...There’s a handful of ships that aren’t quite canon that I simply adore, and don’t mind seeing in fanfiction and what not.  The top three of which are: TaiKari.  TK and Kari from Digimon Adventure/Digimon Adventure 02 This was literally the first time I ever shipped characters ever, so I’m really invested in this particular relationship.  And I hear...good things...From Digimon Tri regarding this ship.  But I haven’t watched Tri yet, so I can’t say for certain if my OTP is coming true or not.  

Dipcifica; Mason “Dipper” Pines/Pacifica Elise Northwest from Gravity Falls.  Not quite canon, but as Journal #3 notes, not quite Not-Canon either, I’ve just been a sucker for this ship ever since Northwest Mansion Mystery and the scene where they hugged, and then Pacifica said “Can I pay you to pretend that didn’t happen?”  I literally yelled at my screen “No Alex Hirsche, you cannot, you jerk!”  

The “Love Square” from Miraculous Ladybug is probably the cutest, fluffiest thing I’ve ever seen, and God I want more of it.  It’s shipping crack.  The whole show is shipping crack.  For those not aware of the show; Marinette is secretly the super-hero Ladybug, and secretly crushing on her classmate Adrien, who is secretly her partner and fellow superhero Cat Noir, who is obviously in love with Ladybug.  And neither of them knows the secret identity of the other, or is aware that they are literally in love with each other and seriously that’s the whole show in a nutshell, comeonguysyou’resobadatbeinginlovewitheachotheryouronetrueloveisstandingrightnexttoyoustopitstopitstopitstopitstopit

And I tag:  @heartstuck @phoenixwrites @christopherjonesart  @gregxb   @bookwyrmpendragon @amymebberson @atopfourthwall @joshkeaton  @kanthara UNLESS you’ve already been tagged in which case, just ignore me. :)

[ceruleanmusings]

in sickness and in health - mickames

summary - when learning she's sick, james takes care of mickey in the best way he knows how.

tag: @myloveforhergoeson @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @raging-violets

-----

"What are you doing here?" Mickey asked. Or at least tried. She had to stop and start a couple times due to the rounds of coughing that plagued her at the sight of him. James. Sitting outside her window on the fire-escape, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Kelly said you're sick," he said.

She blinked owlishly, nearly blinded by his smile. Or the sun. Her watery, half-lidded eyes couldn't handle more than the darkened room she'd been confined to for the last few hours, buried beneath her blankets until she heard a strange series of taps outside her window. Now she really wished it was just a dream. "No, I mean what are you doing here? How did you find the apartment?"

"Oh. Well, Logan—"

"Goddammit, Logan!" Her curse would've had much more effect if her words hadn't turned down in volume halfway through, leading her to clear her throat a couple times until it came back.

Her pointed a red cylinder at her. "You should've known it was only a matter of time."

Mickey made a face. He was right. The Boys were strangely persistent when they wanted to know, have, or get something. It was a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, which is why Aunt Kelly worked hard to keep them from learning where they lived. The only address they had was her last apartment. They'd moved to this one soon after for the space and told her and her sisters to keep quiet so they wouldn't find out where it was. They're destructive, she explained. This is a nice place. I want to keep it that way. As if they needed the explanation. They'd seen their whirlwind first hand. They didn't need to be told twice.

"Shouldn't you be at—" she tried asking four times before giving up, body nearly holding in half as a rapid-fire series of coughs bulleted her elbow. Huffing, she flopped back against her pillows and focused on getting her breathing back to normal. Her head pounded, or was those her sinuses? Her throat was scraped raw and she didn't know whether to keep wearing the large hoodie or take it off. It should be illegal to feel hot and cold at the exact same time. "Why?" she finally managed to ask, motioning to him out the window.

He shifted from his previous position—sitting cross legged—to lean his arms against the windowsill. His elbows touched either end of the frame. "Being sick sucks," he said, resting his chin on his arms. Then he tilted his head to the side, eyes swinging upward. "Being sick alone sucks even more," he added a few moments later, an afterthought.

Her mouth twisted to the side. That look in his eye, the tender tone to his words, the feather-soft sigh, they lasted only for a second until he pulled his veil back down but she knew sad musings when she saw it. People thought nostalgia was the bitter pill to swallow, of nothing being the same anymore. Nothing being like how one wished had to be even worse.

"Thermos?" She rasped, pointing to the red cylinder in his hands. Her tactic worked, quickly putting the light back in his eyes.

"I brought you soup." He passed it through the window. Their fingers brushed and she frowned. His skin felt ice cold compared to hers. Setting the thermos next to her, she grabbed the half empty bottle of hand sanitizer off her nearby nightstand and held it out to him. With a small pout, he rubbed the quick-drying liquid on his hands. And she thought he was terrible about sunscreen. "I don't care if you get me sick."

"Uncle Gustavo would," she said.

"I'd be out of his bald for a few days. He'd thank you."

Her mouth opened to protest then she shut it a second later. He was right. Uncle Gustavo would probably throw a parade in her honor for getting one of the Boys away from him. Not that she'd show up for it. Crowds and too much attention was her own personal nightmare. Probably should've thought of that before getting in a band.

"What kind?" Steam wafted past her nose once the seal broke. Something thick and creamy sloshed along the inside of the thermos. She wished she could smell it. At least the heat would help soothe her throat.

"It's Bubbe's Penicillin Punch. Guaranteed to make you feel better in no time. And don't worry, I asked Mama Knight to make it."

"That's probably safe." Her raspy chuckle made her sound like an eighty-year-old smoker. "Since you can't boil water." And the last time she ate something he made, her face was up close and personal with the toilet for two hours. He'd held her hair back; that was nice.

James grumbled about being able to boil it, just not knowing he had to watch it while Mickey poured the soup into the cup of the thermos. It slid out smoothly, chunks of carrots, celery, corn, noodle, and chicken bobbed along the surface. Throwing her head back, she downed half the contents in one swoop.

"You don't want a spoon? I can get you one!"

She shook her head, blocking her mouth with her hand and she quickly chewed and swallowed. The minced food and brother slid down her throat, giving her a flash of relief. "Takes too much time." Plus, the last thing she wanted was for him to launch himself off the fire escape just for cutlery. She dragged her tongue along the edges of her mouth, catching the slow dripping beads of soup before she dropped her hand. "Noodles need to be appreciated to the full extent of their noodle goodness."

"You said noodle twice."

She nailed him with a look. "You bet I did."

Her raspy laugh returned when his mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, like a fish gasping for air. Finally he draped his arms through the window, fingers lightly flicking the panda-shaped sticky note stack that had fallen onto her blankets at one point, and pressed his cheek up against his arm, looking right at her. Heat crawled up her neck, which she knew had nothing to do with her cold. "Marry me!"

"I need a diamond first."

"I can give you my last name!"

She took another swig, blocking her smile with the small cup. "You said this was your bubbe's recipe?" He nodded. She mimicked him, savoring the taste on her tongue. "Thanks for sharing her with me."

James' eyes crinkled in the corners, a bashful smile curling his lips. he pointed his chin inward. "What're you watching?"

She settled back into against the pillows, "A League of Their Own."

At least she was. Last time she checked. She had blinked, just blinked, but when she opened her eyes the light in the sky had turned to a setting golden orange, the shadows on her wall tilted and stretched, and her window sat empty. Frowning, Mickey rubbed her wet, crusted eyes and sat up straighter.

Low chatter, running water, shifting pots and pans, and wafted in through the cracked door. Sammi's shoe cubby had every space accounted for. Her mint green messenger bag hung off the post of her bed.

Realizing it was later than she thought, Mickey pushed out a yawn, stretching her arms into the air. They landed unceremoniously in her lap and she spotted the panda sticking to her side of the raised window. Humming, she plucked it off with two of her fingers.

Didn't want to wake you. Hope you feel better! xJames

She traced a finger along the x before his name.

With a full belly and equally full heart, she definitely did.

[ceruleanmusings]

look around your world, pretty baby - mickames

james' canon bday + good weather + one of my all time favorite songs = this. it's just fluff. @raging-violets @myloveforhergoeson @partiallypearl @witchofinterest

The day was so beautiful it was almost unfair. Postcard worthy, even. Stark, blankets of blue sky stretched along the horizon, melting into the rolling cerulean waves off Venice Beach nearby. A diamond sun hung high, casting gleaming beams in every direction, soaking the beachline in fading summer.

Cool chill from the grass seeped up through his back. A light breeze brushed across his face. The weight of his world rested on his chest and every strong thump of his heart backed the soundtrack of this perfect moment in time he wanted tattooed on his memories.

"What's up?"

James tilted his chin, the crown of Mickey's head staring back at him. Her locs were patterned outward in a starbust direction, like a firework exploding in all directions. His fingers twitched with the urge to drag his fingers through it but he held himself back. He knew better. The back of his hand still stung from the first and last time he tried—it was supposed to be romantic—and he knew not to do that again.

"Nothing."

She hummed, lifted, and turned to face him, resting an arm across his chest to have something to brace her chin on. The crinkle to her brows smoothed when he leaned forward further and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. She wrinkled it in that way he found adorable, trying to be annoyed but failing.

"I can hear your brain," she said. Her finger pressed the space between his eyebrows, drawing small circles. "It works hard when you're thinking."

"Ha ha." He grasped her hand in a loose grip, bringing her palm up to his mouth. She smiled in that way that knocked him off balance. Good thing they were already laying down in the shade of a palm tree. LA's finest. Resting back on his arm, other hand cradling his neck, he rubbed his thumb along her palm, the tip of his nail catching the lines dragging from one side to the other.

The top one, the longest one, was the heart line, or so Jazz said. She liked to occasionally read their palms, tell them their futures. Half the time James thought she was messing with them, because, well, she was always messing with them, but as he memorized the long, thick heartline on Mickey's palm he wondered just how much her readings were true.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Besides you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Easy answer."

James shrugged, an easy smile gracing his lips. It was true, though. He was always thinking about her. "How much more time?"

Turning her arm, she glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist. "Two hours." He pouted. Why did time have to move? Why couldn't it just stop for a few minutes? "Time'll go faster if you keep thinking about it."

"I can't help it."

With a twist to her mouth, Mickey detangled from him, sitting back until she rested on her heels and looked down at him with a tilted head. "We talked about this."

"I know." He followed, lifting to his elbows, the pout never leaving his face. "It's my birthday."

"I have to be on tour."

"But it's my birthday." Blades of grass snapped off in his fingers in sharp tugs, fluttering away on the wind when he let go.

Her shoulders bounced in a shrug. "So you said."

Pout dropping, his eyes fell to a half-lidded indignation. "You can at least act like you miss me."

Her mouth eased, turning wry with unrestrained amusement. "I think you miss me enough for the both of us." He grunted and she let out a soft chuckle. "I'll make sure to write it in the sky next time."

He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "I want a parade."

"A parade!?"

"It's my birthday!"

"And, what, you think it should be celebrated like a national holiday?"

"Duh! It comes around once a year. It's celebrates an important figure—me. Everything should go my way on my day. That's the rules."

"Life doesn't work like that."

"Well...it should."

She tucked thick corded strands behind her ear and twisted to the side. A dandelion snapped off in her fingers from her quick pluck of the ground and she held it out to him. "Make a wish. Sorry it's not a candle." The buds burst beneath the heft of his blow. They danced and swayed on the wind, bobbing and weaving catching the air currents. "That was fast." The little white nodes twinkled like golden snow. "You didn't want to think about it?"

"Didn't have to." He twisted the empty stem in his fingers, flicked it away. "I wish you'd stay."

Her shoulders sagged. "You know I can't." She lightly traced the line of his sternum. "I got lucky with the three hours I could squeeze in to fly out before i have to head back. They'll kill me if I miss the show to tonight."

But where was his luck? It was his day! Everything was supposed to work out his way! Everyone was supposed to cater to him! That's not to say he wasn't happy he could get those three hours, that she worked it out with Kelly to fly in and out for Mason's next show stop. But he'd never had a girlfriend on his birthday before. Maybe a little time was better than nothing but a whole girlfriend was better than playing phone tag for the last few weeks. What was the point of getting what he wanted, finally, when it kept slipping through his fingers?

Her hand splayed and his heart strummed beneath her palm. The tumult in his mind eased, almost as if the word she pushed through her eyes filled his lungs. Breathe. She was here. At least she tried. After all, three hours was better than three minutes. Three hours was better than five months. That was the last he'd last spoken to his dad. Better than the seven he'd last spoken to his mom.

Was she still waiting for him to call her, like she did every time his birthday came around? Waiting for the platitudes and the thanks and the recognition? Or did she forget? Was that a better option?

"How much more time?" James asked.

Thankfully she humored him. "One hour and fifty-three minutes."

They all belonged to her.

"Let's make the most of it."

She held out her hand. "Thought we already were."

He grasped it and the two stumble-stepped to their feet, balancing on the rollerblades—his—and roller skates—hers—still strapped to them when they'd stopped skating to lie down and take a break.

They cruised a few inches when, with a quick shift of his weight, James glided in front of her, crouching. Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist, and the soft press of her cheek against his threw bright flares over his sun-soaked haze, like the glitter dotted sea in the distance.

[ceruleanmusings]

.11

soon after mickey realizes and accepts she has feelings for james she has a hard time acting "normal" around him. and asking him out? forget it. she panics and keeps throwing away her phone to pace and lament and overthink every word choice of a simple text. mel points out she has it easy because she already knows james' feelings for her and she didn't have to do anything for him to like her. and while mickey knows this she also knows he could have changed his mind.

so she tries to flirt. emphasis on tries. because she is terrible, turning into a stammering mess who overexplains her thoughts and overclarifies her attempts to see if he wanted to hang out or if he was still going to their group skating outing. besides, how do you flirt with someone whose breathing could be considered flirting?

after they finally get together mickey comments that her flirting had to be really bad if on a not-yet-first-date he had to ask if she was flirting with him. james admits it wasn't that he didn't notice, it was that he brushed it off because he'd convinced himself he gave up on the chance she'd ever like him back and he didn't want to pressure her. in the end james asks her to be a bit more obvious with it, which takes a bit for mickey to get out of her comfort zone to do so. but once she falls into the groove it's easy because she loves the way he gets flustered and loves the feeling knowing she was the one to put him in that state.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Double Date - Mickames

i don't really have anything to say about this one. just that this is one of my all time favorite btr eps. i wish they did more bottle episodes, or rather more episodes where everyone was all in one place with intertwining plots. also, jett was the best part of this episode hands down! i loved all his scenes!

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

------

Mickey heaved a sigh of relief when the broom closet door closed. She rested her back against it, eyes darting from side to side. The last thing she wanted was to get caught; she’d lose her job over this! Not that she really needed the job, being in a band tended to help with a lot of expenses but she wanted to keep it.

She loved picking up shifts at Chez Fancee when she wasn’t busy. Being in the thick of a dinner rush, creating delectable French cuisine, and providing a great experience and lasting memories for the guests gave her a rush nothing could touch. Performing onstage in front of thousands of people came close. And yet here she was putting it all on the line to make sure her friend had a great date.

They can’t say I don’t do anythin’ for ‘em!

“Katie, I love your style, but knocking him out was a little much I think,” Mickey commented when Katie rushed around the corner. A tree hat sat atop of her head, accompanied by leaves and fronds hanging off her clothes. If she stood still long enough people could mistake her for a plant.

“It’s just a dinner roll, he’ll be fine,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“If that knocked Henri out, I don’t think he will be,” Mickey said, glancing over her shoulder at the closed door. She didn’t have much time to think about Henri and his apparently compromised health or balance due to a hissing by her ear. Katie and Mickey both looked in the direction of the sound. A second later James popped his head around the corner, his short hair slicked to his head.

“Pssssssst!” he hissed again, louder.

“Keep a look out,” she told Katie. Katie gave her a thumbs up sign and Mickey rushed around the corner, glancing back to ensure the manager didn’t catch her. He was a nice guy, especially for giving her a shot with her unpredictable schedule. She didn’t want to ruin that. But then again, on the flipside, she didn’t want Carlos to have a bad date with Jennifer 3. Jennifer 3 was very nice once you got to know her. And Mickey had total hair envy when it came to Jennifer 3.

“Help!” James hissed once Mickey got within reach of her.

Mickey came to a stop, blinking rapidly while looking him up and down. “With…with what?” She asked because, well, it couldn’t be with how he looked. He looked good. James always looked good, but he looked good. She actively had to remind herself to keep her jaw from dropping. Her momma always said to never underestimate the power of a guy in a suit, and she was not kidding. With James’ slicked hair and his nice clothes, he looked as if he were ready to film scenes in an old Hollywood movie. The only thing missing was a cigar nestled between two fingers.

“The guys are here!” he replied, tugging the bottom of his tuxedo jacket.

Mickey made a face, shifting the tracks of her mind from James on the glossy pages of GQ to the issue at hand. God, she hoped he didn’t notice the heat pooling in her cheeks. “Which guys?”

“All of them! Kendall and Jazz are here with Kelly and…some guy—”

“Oh, that’s Owen!” Perking up, Mickey breathed easier. This was a safe topic. “He’s our UPS guy. They were supposed to be going somewhere el—”

“And Logan’s here with some girl who looks like him and Camille’s here with Jett!” James continued, his voice kicking up a notch.

“Okay, that’s not too bad. …I gotta ask her about that later but that’s not too bad.” Honestly, she could do better than Jett. And weren’t she and Logan just together that morning? Mickey made a mental note to ask Camille about this whole situation later. Her dramatics would certainly make the story interesting, and something told her she’d need a good story after a long night. But damn they were more topsy-turvy than a see-saw!

“Gustavo’s here too!”

Mickey gasped. “Oooh, that’s bad!”

“I know!” James cried out, fiddling with the untied bowtie hanging around his neck.

“He’s supposed to be watching his blood pressure,” Mickey continued.

“…That’s kind of not the point—gah!” The end of his sentence chopped off due to him tightening the bowtie loop around his neck. His eyes bulged and his tongue stuck out, his fingers scrambling for the loop knot he’d made. Seconds passed and red grew in his cheeks. “Mickey…Mickey, help!”

“Oh my god! Stop, stop, let me do it!” Mickey slapped his hands away and stepped closer, yanking the knot away from his neck. His chest heaved with his deep breath and she swallowed the lump rising, watching the fabric stretch across it. Focus! Gathering her wits, she pulled the bowtie apart, letting the two ends lie parallel to his neck. Smoothing the ends between her fingers, she took in a Cuda-scented breath through her nose and began to let her fingers fly in practiced ease. Doing her best to ignore the rise and fall of his chest, Mickey clicked her tongue. “You can tie a necktie, but you can’t tie a bowtie?”

“Mama Knight usually does it for me.”

The simple sincerity in his answer made her take pause, her fingers fumbling before they stilled. Nose wrinkling, she pulled the half-knot apart and started again. “That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah, she’s really cool.”

She gave the finished bowtie a few tugs making sure it held tight and smoothed her hands down his chest. His heart beat hard beneath her fingers. Her eyes flew open wide and her lips parted and pushed out a squeak before backing away, directing her eyes to the floor, dropping her arms to her sides. “Sorrysorrysorry!” Her apology slammed together, falling off her tongue faster than she could form the words. If James said anything she didn’t hear it, didn’t want to hear it. The further away she kept him, the better. In fact, she managed to form some semblance of a sentence, telling him she’d be right back, before rushing off. She ducked behind the host stand when her manager and a few servers walked by, carrying large trays. It was where she wanted to go anyway. She tugged the box of items that had been left behind by patrons, rummaging through it until she found what she needed. With a triumphant grin, she hurried back to James. Along the way she grabbed an extra apron from the entryway to the kitchen; it fluttered behind her like a cape.

“Okay, tie this around your waist,” she said, a little breathless, once she reached him. “Keep a booklet in your pocket to take orders.”

“I can’t take orders!” James said, doing as he was told. A few quick twists of his fingers and the apron lay against his waist. “I’m not an actual server!”

“I know, but you’re going to take Carlos and Jennifer’s orders. And by that, I mean it’s already written. I picked out the best dishes for them. Pretend to take their orders and bring the paper to me. I’ll make sure the food is perfect and out on time.”

“Oh.” James took the notebook out of the pocket and opened it up. “You have nice handwriting.”

“Thank you.” Mickey sucked in a breath, blinked, and got her mind back on the topic at hand. “Katie will be running interference. Check on them every now and then. If you need anything, I’ll be right behind those doors. Now, how’s your French?”

“Huh?”

“French. Do you know any French?”

James’s eyes lifted to the ceiling as he thought for a moment. When he looked back down, a light had ignited behind his eyes. “Voulez vous couch—”

“Stop it.” Mickey squeezed her eyes shut as she thrust out her palm, blocking his words.

James’s shoulders rounded. “Sorry.”

“Forever.”

“Got it.”

Honestly, why was that always someone’s first answer? They needed to get more material. Whatever. She had more things to worry about. Waving her hands in front of her, she wiped his slate clean. “Forget it. How’s your French accent?”

“Oui oui, hon hon, try ze baguette.”

Her eye twitched. “…Close enough. Just keep that up and keep your face hidden and we should be fine. Just, one more thing…” She reached upwards and he obediently leaned forward, moving in sync. She pressed a large, fake mustache against his top lip, keeping a firm hold for a few seconds. Once secure she slipped a pair of glasses over his nose and took a step back, looking at him with new eyes. It was so unfair he looked good in glasses too. Her big reading glasses probably would look good on him too, on her they made her look like a nerd. Well, she was a nerd to a degree, but the glasses didn’t help. She clapped her hands together, the sharp sound making James jump. “Okay, team, we’re all set! Remember, we’re doing this for Carlos.”

“Friendship powers, activate!” James announced, pointing a triumphant finger in the air.

“I’m not doing it this time,” Katie said with a shake of her head, making James pout. Mickey jumped in, easily executing the odd handshake James had come up with, doing her best to ignore the spark at her fingertips upon their hands touching. He’d been working on it for weeks, mostly with Carlos and sometimes with her, noting it’d only be brought out when they really needed it. And Carlos really needed them.

The group split up with James holding his arm up to his face, looking much like Batman with his cape draped up to his face. With a few quick flicks of her wrist, Mickey cuffed the sleeves of her dress shirt, only catching the smirk on Katie’s face at the last second. “You two looked cozy,” Katie all but sang.

“Shut up, Katie,” Mickey grumbled. “You’re the one who didn’t want to do the handshake.”

“Because it’s dumb. I don’t know why you encourage those idiots.”

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” Deep down Mickey knew. It was because they were fun, and they were her friends. Back home she only really had her sisters as friends. And, yeah, maybe they all came along just because of their connection to Kelly but she loved the guys. They made her life interesting. She wouldn’t have fun like this back on the East Coast. She and her sisters had their own kinds of adventures but the adventures she’d been having out here with them were on another level.

“Do you really think Jennifer 3 could be the girl for him?” Katie spoke up after a moment of silence.

“I think he’s trying hard,” Mickey said slowly, “and he shouldn’t have to try hard. So, as long as we get him relaxed, anything could happen.” She bit her lip, peering past Katie to see Carlos’ and Jennifer’s table nearby. “He’s very sweet. Any girl would be lucky to have someone like him. They just have to notice.”

Shrugging, Katie went to blend in with the plants. Mickey ran her hands over her hair, smoothing down any stray kinky curls, blowing out a breath. She caught James’ eye from across the room. He grinned and held up his hand, wiggling the shaka sign. Their secret way of communicating, checking if everything was okay. She smiled and waved the sign back.

If there was one thing she learned about being around them, everything would work out the way it needed to.

She may as well sit back and enjoy the ride.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Confession - Mickames

note: as part of my series rewrites, i’d replace “big time bloopers” with an episode called “big time confession”. it’s the last episode of season 3 and would be about the mason girls preparing to go on their first tour with them, and the btr guys, dealing with the changes that come with it. this would be the ending scene of the episode and the season.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

-----

“Knock-knock.”

Mickey grunted at the rapping of knuckles on the side of her head and dragged her hands down her face. Momentarily blinded from the warm glow of the lights around the Palm Woods’ pool deck, she blinked until Kendall’s face broke through the haze. Her jumping heart slowed at the sight of him.

“Hey Kindle.” Her hands dropped to her stomach, cradling her.

He pointed to the space next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Free country.”

He sat at the edge of the pool deck, crossing his legs and resting his elbows against his knees. Mickey stared up at the dark sky above them, eyes trailing the edges of the clouds hanging above. Water lapped at her calves as she dragged her legs forward and back in in the pool. The silence between them broke when Kendall huffed. “Look, I’m trying to respect your space and everything but you need to talk to James. You’re making him crazy.”

She lifted her head, eyebrows colliding at his statement and the stern expression on his face. “What? How? I didn’t even do anything.”

“Exactly.” She blinked at the speed behind which he jabbed his finger in her direction. “You’ve been avoiding him and it’s been making him more annoying than usual.”

“I can’t help that.” She sat up all the way and brushed her loose locs out of her face. Dragging her hand through a few snarled tendrils, she pulled them to fall on one side, blocking his face. “And I haven’t been avoiding him.” Even she didn't believe that lie.

“Oh yeah? Usually you two are always hanging out and now you’re not.”

Mickey shrugged one shoulder, nose wrinkling. She gripped the edge of the pool, her knuckles whitened beneath her grip. “I’ve been busy," she said to her lap. "We are about to go on tour.”

“Ok. Fair point.” She certainly thought so. Of course, that didn’t placate him. Kendall never seemed to be one fully satisfied anyway. “Still, he’s one of my best buds. It’s not cool to hang him out to dry like that.” Slats of Kendall’s face broke through her wall of hair, breaking the concern on his face into pieces. She sucked in her breath, only for it to be sucker-punched out of her at when he continued speaking. “Especially because he doesn’t know what he did wrong.”

She’d never heard him so quiet, so hurt. Not like this. There was his breakup with Jo, but he wailed and moaned about that more than he appeared hurt by their split. She may as well have directly kicked him with how wounded he sounded. And somehow that made it all worse, made the guilt she’d been trying to ignore all day deepen and twist in a sickening whirlpool. “He didn’t do anything wrong," she whispered.

“Okay, so what’s the deal?”

God! If only she knew! Another sickening pang hit her, knocking the truth to the forefront. She knew. That was the problem. She knew what she’d been doing all along. It’d become easier to protect herself than it was to be honest with herself. Because honesty came with risk, came with hurt. But what was the difference when she hurt herself putting herself out there and doing nothing? “You really can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” The defeat in her voice scratched a line of shame down her spine.

He leaned over, nudging her shoulder with his, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “Someone once said I have a problem with being defiant.”

“Yeah, that was me," she said with a scoff.

“So you know I’m not gonna let up.”

She nudged him back. “You wouldn’t be Kendall if you did.”

His eyes softened and, for once, Mickey saw in Kendall what Jazz did: his loyalty, his support, his charisma. If it were anyone else she could hide, but he saw through her in a way she didn’t anticipate. And for once she was tired of hiding. “Just give the guy a break and talk to him.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not? You’re talking to me just fine.”

“Yeah, because you don’t matter.”

“Ouch.” He smirked.

She mimicked his smirk. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I get it, don’t worry.” He pressed his lips together and pulled them to one side, bringing a dimple out in one cheek. “You know, I used to envy James.” At the look on her face, he chuckled and said, “Yeah, I know, big surprise. Guy gets all the looks, can sing like a bird, and basically gets things handed to him. He never really had to work for anything while my mom…” He made a face and shook his head. “Anyway, he always walks around like he knows he’s going to get the outcome he wants because he’s that sure of himself. I used to think it was arrogance but it’s not.” Mickey suppressed a smile, and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, it’s a little bit of arrogance. But it’s also that he has this innate talent, this…power he exudes. I’ve never seen him try with anything…until it came to you.” Another sour pitching wave crashed against her shore. “God, it used to be so annoying how everything just…came to him on a silver platter. Literally. Once, he got new ice skates delivered to school on a silver platter because he left his pair at home before a game and his mom didn’t want him to come back for them. And when it came to girls, from the time he was ten he’d had them fighting for him. He didn’t have to do much to get their attention.

“But with you, this is the most I’ve seen him try. Not to get a girl to like him; for once I don’t think he cares about that, he just cares about you.” Her eyes burned about as much as the shame burned in her chest. “He cares that you’re happy or upset and he cares about how much you love food and the hospitality that comes with taking care of people and he cares about you finding your voice and your love for music. He’s trying, Mickey. And you know he likes you. The least you can do is meet him halfway.”

Mickey closed her eyes in a long, slow blink, shutting down the tears threatening to spill over her wall. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, let out a slow breath, and steeled herself. The last thing she wanted was to completely fall apart, even if it was all her own doing. “What would this world be without a Kendall Knight pep talk?” She eked out a watery smile. “Never thought I’d be on the receiving end of one.”

“First time for everything, right?” Kendall squeezed her shoulder. “He’s a good guy.”

“I know.” Boy, did she know. He’d only proved it to her time and time again with his deep well of patience and understanding, something he’d let peek past his mask of vanity only a few times until he slipped it off in her company. He’d made it comfortable enough for her to do the same with hers. And she thought she couldn’t drown in her shame even more.

“Is it okay if I send him over? He’s been sad-eating mini quiches for the last fifteen minutes.” Kendall jerked his thumb over his shoulder. She leaned over, following its path only to let out a hoot of a laugh just to slap her palm over her mouth at the sight of him standing alone at the food table few ways away from the crowd in the lobby. The frown on his face barely contained the snack he solemnly chewed.

“Oh, I shouldn’t laugh. But it’s so—”

“Sad. Definitely.” He patted her shoulder and hopped up from the side of the pool, shoving his hands in his pockets. Standing above her in the light he may as well have been bathed in gold.

“Ken, Jazz is lucky to have you,” Mickey said.

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s actually the other way around.”

As he retreated Mickey turned her eyes back to the rippling surface of the pool, throwing back the broken and shifting lines on her face. She blew a raspberry at her reflected face and rubbed her hands against her real one, scrubbing away the remnants of unease coating her. This was fine, all fine. It was just James. She could do this. But as he approached, a little timid but still exuding the power which seemed to seep from his pores, the word just didn’t come anywhere near doing him justice. He wasn’t just anything. Not to her.

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t ask to sit, easing himself down in a motion so fluid he may as well have been made of water. He sat close; his arm brushed against hers, sending a pleasant flutter through her.

“Hey.”

“So…excited for tour?”

That was sweet of him, giving her an out. That wasn’t what he wanted to ask; she knew that as sure as she knew her way around her bass. She looked at him, really looked at him, took in the curl of his long lashes shielding the uncertainty in his eyes. James Diamond could be scared, he’d allowed her to see that vulnerability before, but never had she seen it because of her mere presence. Or maybe it was her own projected back at her?

“No,” she answered, the sincerity surprised even her. Not the weight of it but the ease of which she held it, sat with it, let it exist.

“Oh. Don’t worry, you’ll have fun. Touring’s the best part. You get to see the fans and see the sights and see just how much your music has directly changed someone’s life.”

She knew. She’d seen it firsthand when they were still their backing band, when they were still in the background. Seen the way the guys’ eyes lit up the first time people sung their songs back to them, the awe when the crowds of fans screamed and cried for them at various airports, the sheer delight and undercurrents of gravity when decompressing after a meet-and-greet. But it was different when they were experiencing it all together.

“That’s…that’s not the part I’m not excited about.”

He hummed. “You get over homesickness pretty fast.”

“What’s it called when you’re homesick for a person[1]?” He sucked in a breath at that, chest swelling. She heard the heavy thuds of his heartbeat. Or was that her own? She took in a breath, let it out, took in another one, and pushed forward, letting her words out before she shut them off again. “Look. I-I know I haven’t been…the best person to you today. It was easier to bury myself into the work for the showcase and getting everything settled for tour. I shouldn’t have ignored you though. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Her locs slapped her face with how vigorously she shook her head. “No it’s not! I knew what I was doing. I knew it’d hurt you but I did it anyway. Because…well, because it was easier to deal with that hurt than how much it was going to hurt to say bye. To...you.”

“...Oh.”

She couldn't read his face and her muscles twitched the urge to run but she stuffed it down and kept going. “It’s easier to say it to everyone else. I didn’t know how to say it to you. I didn’t want to say it to you. It sounds so final and I don’t…I realized I don’t want us to be final.”

“…Us?”

The hope in his voice propelled her forward. “Yeah. If that’s okay? I…I really like you, James.”

A slow smile stretched on his face and sunshine cast glitter in his eyes. “Really?”

Mickey nodded, her heart beating slow and steady against her chest, stuttering her breaths. “And-and I want to give us a chance before we don’t have a chance. I know my timing is bad but…” But she couldn't miss her chance. James was special, if anyone else figured that out while she was gone, well, she'd be the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.

James’ hand brushed against her arm and he pushed her hair out her face, tucking the forefront locs behind her ear, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. Her skin burned beneath the caress of his skin on her cheekbone. “Mickey, any chance with you is worth the wait.”

Laughing in relief, Mickey leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together and she smelled James and felt the heat on his skin and counted his teeth smiling back at her and brushed her nose against his and tasted the sweet, bubbling tang of Diet Coke—the only soda he’d drink—clinging to his lips and tongue.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek when they pulled away, to stave off the giggles threatening to rise up her throat and to hide the blush on her cheeks at the lingering touch of his tongue on hers. He took the time to take her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Should we go back in?” His words vibrated against her forehead resting against his neck. She fit perfectly. “They have those dumpling things you like.”

“You just want to tell everyone.”

“That too.” His words smiled in place of having to see his face.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. They already know.” Lifting her head, she pointed over his shoulder. James turned, granting them both the sight of Kendall, Carlos, Logan, Camille, Lucy, Jo, Katie, Sammi, Jazz, and Mel with their faces pressed up against the glass of the windows looking out on the pool deck. They all gave a start when noticed and nearly bumped into one another in their haste to get away. Carlos’ wails of, “I’m just so happy!” followed behind as he dabbed his eyes and Logan patted his back. She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Can we just sit for a bit? Just us? I'm not really in a rush.” She softly laughed at her own pun. She couldn't help it, the opportunity was right there. And it fit, with them, with how his band was the reason they first met in this exact place, by the Palm Woods pool.

He leaned the side of his head against hers and nodded. “I’d like that.”

-------

[1] There is a word that’s very close to this feeling: saudade. In case you don’t know, it’s from Brazilian and Portuguese culture about the feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia for something that once brought joy, excitement, or pleasure but then triggers a sense of separation. The closest English word to it is desiderium, which means a powerful desire or yearning, esp for something once had.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Rides - Mickames

things get angsty in this one. also there's a warning for some cursing.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets

-----

Mickey’s humming eased when she heard the rap of knuckles on the doorframe. She didn’t bother glancing up, letting her eyes scan over the stack of papers tucked in her arm, making sure they were in alphabetical order as she’d been tasked to do.

For a record producer, Gustavo wasn’t the most organized guy in the world. Maybe he only put in the effort to acts he oversaw that didn’t make him want to pull out his hair. (It’d explain why he didn’t have much left). Shifting the papers, Mickey tapped them against the desk and said, “I’ll be done in a few minutes, Uncle Gustavo. I just have to get...through…”

Explanation dying on her tongue, Mickey snapped her lips together at the sight of him, James, standing in the doorway. No, not standing. James filled doorframes with his height alone. And in the past couple years he added muscle to that, widening his shoulders and arms due to many gym visits. But now he barely took up space, standing smack in the center, shoulders rounded, head hung, a soft downward curve to his mouth accentuating the contrition in his eyes.

“You probably shouldn’t be up,” she stated, voice flat, stuffing the papers into a manila folder. Gustavo’s chicken scratch across the small label made her take pause, glancing at the other folder on the desk amongst the assorted paper balls, broken pencils, half empty Styrofoam cups holding hours old coffee, and an empty King size package of Twizzlers. Was that the right folder? With a small shrug, she put the folder in the open desk drawer by her knee. Oh well. All he said was to sort and organize, the rest would be his problem.

“I’m okay,” he said.

She let out a sound between a scoff and a snort, the noise nearly drowned out by the rolling groan of the drawer she pushed shut with her foot. Okay was such a dismissive word. She would know, she used it all the time. It may as well be tattooed on her tongue, how often she spit out the word, filtering everything she thought and felt down to two syllables to keep the peace, to remain under the radar, to not be a burden.

How dare he use it against her. Like what he did was no big deal.

“You damaged your knee,” she continued, voice still without emotion. Detached. Clearing her throat, she tossed her head, flicking her hair out her face. She crossed her arms, hiding her fingers curling into fists by tucking them into the pits of her elbows. “Good luck getting through rehearsals. Gustavo’s gonna flip when he finds out.”

James cracked his knuckles, taking his time with each one, pressing his thumb against each one until they let out pops. “Gustavo doesn’t need much of a reason to flip on us.”

He had a point, of course, but that wasn’t the point he should’ve been focusing on. Mickey pushed a breath out her nose, nostrils flaring, lips pulled back into her mouth so hard her teeth left temporary grooves when she released.

“Mickey—”

She held up her hand, extending her arm in such a ferocious fashion anyone walking by would have been clotheslined. It effectively stopped whatever he was going to say at the one word, and him as well. But not before he managed to take a few steps forward. She noticed the wince right away; he tried to keep himself standing tall, his walk even, but his knee buckled just slightly, and his face flashed a grimace.

That stupid, stupid idiot.

“I really don’t want to talk right now,” Mickey said. Her voice shook and…oh. It wasn’t just her voice, but all of her. She lowered her hand, bracing her palms against the side of the desk, leaning her weight against it to keep from falling over. Gustavo’s desk chair sat behind her but she didn’t trust taking a step back to sit down. Didn’t trust she’d move in another direction, closer to James. Didn’t trust what she’d do if she got close to him.

It’s why she took up Gustavo’s offer in the first place. (Less offer, more lesser of two evils. The other option was washing all his sports cars. What was the point of going near them if he wouldn’t let them drive it?) Going through his files, putting everything in order, she needed the job to calm down. It tamped out the fire burning in her belly, an inferno which grew so wild she was surprised James didn’t catch on fire when she saw him in 2J, covered from head to toe in plaster, hunching over the handlebars of that stupid bike! (Not that she was calling a Harley Davidson XL 883 Sportster itself stupid, it was a thing of beauty her dad would salivate at the sight of it. But in this case, it was a vehicle for stupidity. No pun intended. …Okay, maybe a little.)

God, she could’ve throttled him! Hell, the bike almost took care of that for her. So she left and agreed to sort through Gustavo’s files, all but throwing him out his office when he made a comment wondering if it were her time of month. Which was, one, gross and two, so very wrong. Her boyfriend did something stupid. Not just stupid, but downright dangerous! So yeah, she was angry, and she wanted some time alone to not have to sink into her thoughts, the ones that screamed at her at night wondering if she was just a glorified babysitter for him rather than someone he actually cared for or thought about.

“Then listen,” he pleaded. Either the brightness of the lights above or James' seemingly earnest plea put a sparkle of something in his eye. She didn’t allow herself to think too long on it, or look too long. She wasn’t going to fall for it. Yeah, she’d played that song and dance many times before, letting him off the hook when he did or said something idiotic because of that look, but she would let him dangle this time. Still, she bit the inside of her cheek to quell the familiar urge to brush it all aside, to roll over and let him have his way. Her back was beginning to bruise.

“No. No.” She shook her head, words sharpening as she directed them down at the desk. Little grooves had been intended into the wood on the edges; Mickey could almost see Gustavo air drumming, listening to whatever beat he’d produced that day. “You don’t get to make those puppy eyes at me and make this all go away.”

“I’m not trying to! Just listen!” At this she lifted her head, looked James in the eye and held onto the desk tighter. “I messed up. I know I messed up. I’m sorry.”

Mickey’s eyebrow quirked. Messed up? Was that all he did? She liked to call it lying and endangerment. But maybe those words meant different things in his world. “What are you sorry for?” she asked, dragging a blue glitter painted nail against the edges of the desk. The rhythmic grating sound, the rough edge rolling beneath her nail kept her focused, grounded deep in the flickering wildfire pushing up her neck.

“For everything.”

She took her time breathing, fighting against the tide slapping at the dam she’d built behind the flames. “What exactly?” Her question, a barb, hit him the way she wanted: surprise burst onto his face. Of course it did, she didn’t usually press him like this. Mickey Mason let bygones be bygones, let James be James; taking his apologies, if he ever did apologize, at face value so as to smooth things over, to make everything easier. But she was tired. If he wanted to be with her, as he claimed, he couldn’t white-boy-charm his way out of this. So she stayed silent as James looked downwards, shuffling his feet, crimson mottling the length of his neck.

“For…being stupid, I guess?” Lifting an arm, he rubbed the back of his neck. The sight of his muscles straining against the tight cuff of his sleeve normally would have thrown her off balance and, lately, openly admire him. It did nothing for her now; anger coursed and popped beneath the surface of her skin, electrifying the air around her. Her eyes narrowed and he gulped. “For…doing something stupid. And-and dangerous. And for lying. I shouldn’t have lied to you.” He hung his head, his long, helmet matted hair curled over his forehead. “I just…I wanted…”

“What, James? What could you have possibly wanted?”

He blew out a breath, quick and harsh. “I wanted to impress you.”

…This boy… Her hair formed a thick curtain as she hung her head, dread strands dangling in front of her like jungle vines, shielding her face. A burning prickle stung the backs of her eyes and a thickening built in her throat. “James…y’wanna to know what impresses me?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "Your voice impresses me. Your drive impresses me. Your confidence impresses me. Your passion impresses me. Your ability to ride a bike doesn’t. I don’t care about that! God! I care about you!” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated it. Oh, did she hate how the dam she’d built up behind the fire allowed a tiny fissure in, failing beneath the pressure welling up inside her. The flames retreated under the sprinkle of water, just a little. “Fuck, James, I…y’coulda been really, really hurt. D’you get that? You somehow—and I still can’t figure this out—drove up two flights of stairs and crashed into your apartment! What woulda happened if you kept goin’ and crashed right out the wall?” He twisted his mouth to the side, his eyes shifting past her head, probably to the shelf of music trophies Gustavo liked to keep on display even if they were from about ten years ago. She knew his tricks; he liked to look at them partially because he imagined getting some himself one day and partially to daydream while Gustavo chewed them out for whatever infraction they managed to obtain that day. “And all because of a lie. You should've just told me—”

“I know,” James cut in, his voice a strained whisper. “I’m sorry.”

The flames backed off a little more. Tears rolled onto her bottom lids. “You really scared me.” Her voice, already small, sounded smaller in the large office. He didn’t reply right away, for that Mickey was thankful. She didn’t know what she could say to him; her head hurt, her eyes burned, and all the energy fueling her fire yanked away, leaving her an odd combination of drained and relieved and hurt all at once.

“Mama Knight’s making me sell the bike.”

“Good!” Mickey said emphatically. “You shouldn’t be operating it without a license anyway.”

James blinked. “…You need a license?”

“Yeah! You have to go through a whole class too. You can’t learn how to ride one in one day!”

“Now you tell me.”

A part of her wondered if it was her fault for assuming he knew what he was doing. She and her sisters had their motorcycle licenses after all, but that was after going through classes and having their dad’s love of the hobby as a backup ensuring they obtained it the right way. And James tended to accomplish any goal he set out for himself, so of course it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for some Minnesota kid to have his motorcycle license either. A second later she banished the thought from her mind. No, she was not in the wrong here. This was James, all James. She had no fault or blame in this at all. He may be her boyfriend, but he made his own decisions, no matter how bad they could be. (This one took the cake.)

"You already impress me, James, you always have. You don't need to pull some crazy stunt to do it." His following smile was short lived when she stabbed a finger in his direction. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you yet or you’re back in my good graces!”

"I get it." His mouth twisted to the side and, when he released it, it opened and closed a few times, trying to form words.

Did he? She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed. The rims of her lids stung and fresh tears dripped down her cheeks, the scent of the salt mixing in with the faint, stale remnants of beef jerky and his usual scent of sandalwood. Colors swirled before her eyes, shifting and mixing and colliding to form a picture, once she thought she'd scrubbed years ago with the help of therapy. Of her dad lying in a hospital bed, so still, wires and tubes coming out of his banged up body. She squeezed her eyes tighter. The image shifted, James lying in a hospital, banged up, tubes and wires running everywhere.

She shook her head, erasing the image, banishing it.

No, no, no! Not again!

"How bad did I mess up?"

Mickey took in a shuttering breath, opening her eyes. Sniffing, she hastily wiped at her wet skin with the backs of her hands, smearing the tears around. "I don't know." He deflated before her eyes, pain scrunching up his face, reality crushing all traces of his strength. She rounded the table, stepped into his space, lifted her chin to look up at him properly. She saw the lump he swallowed bobbing in his throat. And when she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her ear against him, his relieved sigh matched hers. He wrapped his arms around her, curved over her until her forehead brushed the side of his warm neck, tucking his head down against her. She counted his pulse, sure and steady. He was still here. He was still with her. He was still alive. “But I am so...so glad you’re okay.”

[ceruleanmusings]

i don't think we're "just friends" anymore. + for either mickames or kazz?

i'll do you one better and do both! @raging-violets @witchofinterest

mickames: ferret out

"Just make sure you don't take your eyes off him for too long. He'll get into everything. If there's a hole, he'll find it; an opening, he'll squeeze through it; a new place to explore, he'll explore it; some food—"

"I get it!" James interrupted. Whether it was his sudden outburst or the tower of ferret supplies in his arms shifting, he scrambled and shifted his hold to keep everything from falling to the floor. Once secure, he looked around the carrier and bed and flashed Mickey a smile. "Pip'll be fine with us. Don't worry"

"I don't want him to be 'fine'." She pulled a corner of her lip into her mouth and pushed up the sleeves of her hoodie with the front blaring IT'S TOO PEOPLE-Y OUTSIDE in only to pull them back down a second later and grasp the hems in her fingers. "He has to follow his schedule. And stick to his diet! I don't want to risk him getting stuck anywhere. And don't let Mr. Bitters find him! Or Buddha Bob. He has some strange vendetta against weasels." She sighed and a far away look came to my eye. "What am I forgetting?"

"To breathe." James set the pile down on the island counter. "We'll take good care of him. I promise."

Mickey gave him a look. "Last time you said 'I promise' to me, the fire department had to get me out of the washing machine."

A sheepish smile came to James' face and he let out an awkward laugh. "Well...that won't happen this time because Pip is too small to get stuck there! And Bandana Man won't forget you next time."

"Mhm." How the hell James managed to talk her into being part of his Bandana Man movie was one thing, but she had to have completely lost her mind to let him talk her into getting into the washing machine so he, sorry, Bandana Man could 'rescue' her. The fire department had a good laugh that day. So she must've had a complete brain transplant to ask him, and the other guys, to watch her ferret for her. But her hands were tied; she couldn't leave him alone, Logan was at least somewhat responsible, and she didn't trust uncle Gustavo wouldn't turn him into a handbag.

"Why don't you trust me?"

Experience sat on her tongue, ready to jump off at his silly question but the look in his eye stopped her. So earnest and hurt, shame nearly bowled her over. "I do trust you," she said. It wasn't the truth to the words that shocked her but the ease of which they came, as if she didn't have to think about it. "It's just...Pip is very important to me." Speaking the ferret's name, Pipsqueak, aka Pip, popped his head out of the hood of her sweatshirt and extended his long, noodle-like body until he squeaked and nuzzled against her cheek. She scratched beneath his chin. "I...I can't have anything happen to him."

"I get it," James said. "And I won't let anything happen to him." He rubbed Pip on the head and turned; his thumb just barely touched her cheek. Her skin crackled. "He's important to you so...he's important to me."

Her raw nerves smoothed out only to be replaced by a strange but not entirely unpleasant twisting to her stomach. "Okay." She grabbed Pip out of her hood and craddled him in his arms, placing a kiss to the top of his head to get James to stop looking at her like that. Or get herself to stop looking at James. "He likes freeze dried minnows so you can use those as a treat. And...and if he makes his high-pitched kinda clucking noise, he's happy. And if he makes a panting noise, he's very happy. Oh, and he talks in his sleep sometimes so don't let that scare you. This is the number to his vet and then his emergency vet. He loves sleeping with his tennis ball so make sure he has it. Oh! And if he hasn't moved in a bit, check on him. He likes to play dead and well, you know. And if anything goes missing, check his cage. He's started to hoard shiny things. I think he got it from Sammi."

"Got it," James said with a nod.

"Okay," she said again, letting out a long sigh. Her phone buzzed and she retrieved it, glancing at the message Kelly sent that they needed to get going. She hated this part. Holding Pip out to James, he carefully took the ferret who immediately curled up in his arms. Letting out a noise, she stepped forward and peppered Pip's little face with kisses. "I'm gonna miss you so much!"

"I'll miss you too."

"Not you!" She did her best to throw an unamused look James' way but her efforts to restrain her smile failed her. Instead, she rolled her eyes, heat rising to her face. "Please send me updates."

"I'll send you pictures every hour."

"Geeze, when did you guys get a baby?" Logan asked, lowering the newspaper covering his face. Mickey jumped and looked past James to see him. His eyebrows were furrowed and his nose wrinkled. "Actually, better question, when did you get married?"

She spluttered for a few seconds only to land on sticking her tongue out at him. Sheesh, she forgot he was there. Heck, she forgot she asked him to be there when she dropped Pip off so he wouldn't go running away the first chance he got. He could've said something...

Her phone buzzed again. Judging by the clipped phrasing and proper punctuation Aunt Kelly used that time, she meant business. She bid the two goodbye, James going so far as lifting Pip's leg to wave back at her, and she left 2J.

By the time she reached the elevators Logan's comment replayed in her head. When did you get married? She laughed a little. What a silly question. It was true she and James were getting along really well lately, they were friends. Just friends. And who else could you count on if not your friends?

But, as she pressed the button for the first floor and the doors slid shut, a quieter voice spoke in her head: I don't think we're "just friends" anymore.

------

kazz: lip out

"So...are we dating?"

"Hmm?" Jazz hummed while lining up her shot. It was a bit of a tricky one. From where she stood the green stretched out and then shifted at a sharp curve, the hole blocked by strategically planted bushes in the way. Should she bounce it off the wall or try to go for the crest?

"I mean, I don't think we're 'just friends' anymore, so...that means we're dating right?"

Kendall was so cute when he was uncertain. A tiny part of her wanted to drag it out, make him suffer a little. But the rest of her decided to cut him some slack; he suffered enough at the hands of Uncle Gustavo. "Sounds good to me."

"...That's it?"

"Yeah." Noting the way he pressed his lips into a line, she rested her weight on the putter in her hand. "What's the big deal, Knight? Was the label that important to you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No. I mean. I guess? I mean, i'm just checking..."

"Well, I have no problem hangin' out with you and the guys but it somehow always ends up with just you. We are..." she paused, squinting at the marker down the course, "...seven holes into mini golf and you keep making not-so-subtle excuses to be near me—which i'm not complaining about, by the way. Plus, I wouldn't be spendin' this much time with you if I didn't like you. So sure, we're dating." She shrugged. "Can't see a downside to it."

"Okay." He dragged out the word as if he didn't trust it. She'd be offended if it weren't a good idea on his part. "Sure. Great."

A smile slowly grew on her face at his hefted breath, dropped shoulders, and nodding. "Been workin' on that all night, have you?" She pinched his chin between her thumb and finger, making a cooing sound of pity. "No wonder your score is so high."

He pressed his lips together but his shining eyes and dimples denting his cheeks gave him away. "Maybe you're distracting," he said.

She shook her head, back away from him. With a sigh, she re-took her stance and practice swung by her pink ball. "Bad excuse. I know I'm hot but you manage to go every day without being distracted by it."

"That's what you think."

She suppose he meant to keep that comment under his breath but she heard it and it turned up the wattage on her smile. Turning at the waist, she placed a hand on her hip and lifted an eyebrow. "Then we've been wasting time and that's upsetting." Kendall's eyes narrowed for a moment and then widened. He blinked, a knowing curling his lips and he stepped closer. She tilted her head up and waited, tightening her grip on the putter. His nose brushed hers and, with a laugh, she pressed the head of the club into his chest and pushed him until he was arm's length away, smirking. "You somehow beat me, then I might forgive you for wasting my time. And you better make that worth my while."

He grinned and winked. "Deal."

[ceruleanmusings]

desolation pt. 1

this is the expanded version of this headcanon i posted for mickames. i wrote this months ago and just condensed it for the headcanon or else it would've been super long. it's the same reason i broke it down into two parts. enjoy! (or not? it's pretty emotionally painful. oops! 😊) @partiallypearl @myloveforhergoeson

------

Mickey couldn’t pinpoint which hurt worse, her head or her heart.

Her head was easier to manage, at least. The throbbing, the dizziness, the stuffiness; that malaise could be treated with a few painkillers and water. She’d downed enough that morning everything downgraded to a dull ache. Just enough she could get out of bed and face herself in the mirror.

Kind of.

Her heart on the other hand… How could she heal that? There wasn’t a pill or some medicine she could take to fix that pain. It sat deep in her chest, dull but persistent, localized but splintering, dormant but relentless. A monster lying in wait, ready to sink its teeth in her, ready to go for the kill.

And if that’s how she felt, she couldn’t imagine how James fared.

She didn’t need to.

Nothing she could come up with would touch the reality laid out in front of her. She saw it in his face, in his eyes when her words, soaked and dripping with derision, slurred out her loose lips. Heard it in his voice when he suggested he take her home, even though he’d just been saying he wanted to take her on a spin around the dance floor. She’d initially refused because no one else was dancing and she’d feel silly. He’d said he didn’t care and if people did care they weren’t the ones he wanted to impress anyway.

God, how the hell could she be so stupid?

Sour waves pitched in her stomach; the resulting spray shot up her throat. She slapped a palm against her mouth, lips pressing against her teeth. The discomfort was a small price to pay for her choices. Her eyes slipped shut, released her from staring at the green in her face, the dullness to her eyes, the downward pull to her lips, the heavy sag to her shoulders. For the few seconds it took for the elevator to lift her up to the second floor, she stood suspended in the before and after.

If only she could exist in that space a little longer.

The bell dinged and her reflection split open, revealing the uniform hallway with its dingy orange carpets and white walls and dim lighting. Such staunch sameness that was oddly comforting. She let her legs carry her forward, follow the usual path she’d taken for the last three years.

Dread crawled down her spine. How much did she mess up? A year’s worth or three years’ worth? Was it all going to end, just like that? Did she still have a chance? Did they still have a chance? The rubber soles on her boots scuffed against the floor at her ungraceful halt. She pressed a hand against the wall, the cold seeped into her skin. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should turn around. At least then nothing would change. But then nothing would get better either. But nothing would change…

She forced down the lump in her throat and continued forward. Dragging this out any longer would only make things worse. She had to face the music at some point, as Kelly said. She wanted to hate Kelly for that, for the cliché comment and for how apt it was, but Kelly was right. She knew Kelly was right. God, she hated it when Kelly was right.

Her shoulders rose and dropped beneath the strength of her sigh. She shook out her shaky fingers, released another big sigh, and stopped in front of the door. 2J stared back at her, or the J did anyway due to the lighting nearby throwing a reflecting slat of light across the 2, making it meld into the gold backing. Because of course it did. The universe didn’t want to let her catch a break.

Movement shuffled on the other side of the door. Voices ping ponged back and forth, maybe from the TV? And the door continued to loom. She could walk in, just like usual, but this wasn’t like usual. Not anymore. No matter how much she wanted it to be. So, instead of entering and taking her space, she sucked in a breath, raised her hand, and knocked.

She squeezed her thumbs, the large knuckles popping beneath her tight grip. It kept her in place, holding herself under such a strong hold. She didn’t dare let go, knowing if she did, she’d allow herself to turn her back and run. She always ran. She was tired of running.

The door swung open in a smooth arc, slower than the usual exuberance that tended to meet her any other moment. She bit her lip, swung back on her heels, brushed her long dreads out her face and studied him. He stared back, studied her. She offered up a smile, a small one, for…something. A lifeline. A little bit of hope she hadn’t completely ruined everything. A warmth appeared in his eyes and she nearly fell over in relief. Thank God.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He approached before she could move, drawing her into a hug she clung onto. Her fingers dug into his jacket and she held on tight, letting the love wafting off him envelope her. Tears flooded her eyes and her head gradually became stuffy. She forced them back with a loud sniff and, once they let go, she dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. And he still smiled at her.

“So…you know what happened?” she ventured, tucking some strands of hair behind her ear.

“Part of it. James and I share a room, you know.” Carlos shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m, well…you know.”

“Yeah.”

She sniffed and nodded, alternating tugging the hem of her sleeve down onto her palms. After the third time she tucked her hands up into her armpits. “Is he here?”

“Yeah, he’s in the room.”

“Okay.” She dragged her tongue against her lower lip. “Is it…just him?”

“Mhm. Logan and Kendall are at the mall.”

“Okay.” That was a relief. She loved the brotherhood the guys had forged over the years but, sometimes, they were a little too involved. She softly chuckled at that. That was the pot calling the kettle black, considering her and her sisters were worse in the best way. They spoke in “we”s so casually it was no wonder people had difficulty telling them apart, when they acted as if there was no separation between them. Still, the boys rode hard for each other. A little too hard, she’d say, in this case. She didn’t need to be around Kendall to know how upset he was at her for hurting James like that. That was his bro, she hurt him, he went in to protect him. She couldn’t blame him for that but damn did he make studio time difficult. She couldn’t blame him for that either.

“I can stay if you want,” Carlos said.

“That’s sweet, but we—” No. She shook her head. Erasing what she’d just said. This was her problem. “Uh, I need to talk about this. Just us. Besides, Sammi’s waiting for you downstairs.” Sammi had offered to stick around too. And while she appreciated her baby sister displaying so much concern without the following criticism (“help” as she liked to determine it), she knew they had to do this alone. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to trying those Korean corn dogs.”

Excitement lit up his eyes. If only Sammi’s heart hadn’t been captured by someone else, she had a feeling Carlos and Sammi would’ve been a good match. She loved her future brother-in-law to pieces (their ending was inevitable; Sammi and Jay had been attached since sixth grade), but the little tweaks they’ve passed onto one another over the last few years gave her a glimpse of what they could have been. Opposites attract after all; she and James are living proof of that.

Or maybe they were.

Carlos hugged her again, stopping her smile from crumbling too far and he promised he’d try to hold back some of his thoughts so they could record it for their Youtube Channel (Mexci Beaucoup, a channel to highlight their backgrounds while also letting them have a place to review local food, try new recipes, and play games) and that he’d be there as soon as possible if she needed him.

They swapped places, Carlos stepping into the hall and she into the apartment. The door closed behind her and everything became still. People on the tv moved through the motions, their words quiet due to having been put on mute at some point. The refrigerator hummed, the clock on the oven ticked over, and the demo screen ran on the racing game in the corner.

She twisted the ring on her index finger, gathered up her nerves, and made a beeline for James and Carlos’ room. The door sat open a crack, bright light pooling onto the shiny hardwood. James’ vocalizations, soft yet precise, slipped through. They didn’t have a direction, each note was knitted together, piece by piece, as James wandered through the song. He tended to do that when thinking, singing beneath his breath. It helped keep his mind from wandering off too much when he needed to focus. The few times he chose to focus outside the world of music, anyway.

Well, no turning back now. She rapped against the door with the back of her finger, the ring tapping against the wood. Not too loud, not too soft. “James?” Was that her voice? She sounded as if she’d gargled with jagged rocks. Clearing her throat, she called his name again.

Seconds ticked by.

“Yeah?”

Her breath came out in a long exhale and she pressed her forehead against the door. That was good, right? At least now he talked to her instead of ignoring all her texts and calls.

“Can I come in?”

Silence again. She licked her lips, waiting. Her eyes traced the grains running in the door from the top corner of her vision to the bottom and up again. Down and up again. Down and up again. How long has it been, an hour?

“…I guess.”

It was better than nothing. She pushed open the door and nearly fell apart all over again. She did that to him, made him so listless and so lifeless. The joy that appeared in his eye whenever he laid eyes on her was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a dull pool of black. His hair hadn’t been brushed, or even if it had been, lying on the pillows ruined his efforts. His hair lay flat and lifeless over his forehead, nearly touching one of his eyes. Too dry to have been washed at some point. And his skin, usually glowing from the kiss of the sun, remained pale. The lively red swimming just beneath the surface of his cheeks, ready to pop out after a good show or a turn in the gym or when the temperature dropped or when she said something he particularly liked, she couldn’t detect.

Seeing his face that night hurt. This? This gutted her.

He didn’t say anything, only watched as she sat on the end of Carlos’s bed, trapping her hands between her knees. His fingers drummed on his stomach and his jaw clenched and fuck she hated the way he looked at her. As if didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at, as if he were trying to figure her out. When before he’d look at her like she was precious, like he was enthralled, like she was the best thing in the world. She looked at him like that too, she’d seen it in their red-carpet pictures and the joint interviews, and now she couldn’t look him in the eye. Carlos’ unkempt bedspread, showcasing a large gaming controller, held her attention, all bundled up with the sheets, a few discarded t-shirts, candy wrappers, and an eraser that looked to have a bite taken out of it. She shifted her position, brought one leg up onto the bed to mess with her laces. The plastic aglet on one had begun to crack. She ran her thumb in the groove.

Still, neither of them said anything. She searched for the right opening, the right thing to say, but nothing measured up in her mind. This was James, not just James Diamond, but her James, her Bandana Man, her best friend. He deserved all the best words.

Though maybe she should start with the two she’d been uttering the past couple days.

“I’m sorry.”

James didn’t react. His gaze burned her cheek. She closed her eyes, counted to three, breathed, and forced herself to look at him. His eyebrows had twitched downwards, just slightly, almost as if he didn’t understand the words. She hadn’t spoken in the wrong language, had she? No, she used the right one. She wouldn’t dare hide behind French like she used to. Back when she wanted to say what was on her mind, on her heart, but had been afraid of his response. Even if she still was afraid, she needed to hear whatever it was he had to say.

He didn’t say much that night. Of which she was equally glad and upset about.

“James…” His eyebrows lifted a little this time, asking a silent question. What? It was a good one. What did she want? What did she have to say? What could she do to fix everything?

She wanted him.

She didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t know what to do.

But an apology was a good start. That’s what her father always said.

“I’m sorry. For everything I said. For…” She paused, swallowing the sour bile shooting up her throat. It crept and burned but she pushed on. “For embarrassing you. For hurting you. For getting drunk. For being so uncomfortable and insecure I took it out on you. I ruined your night.”

James snorted, causing her to wince. It may as well have been a gunshot. At least it was something, even though the thinly veiled derision wasn’t lost on her. She deserved it.

“I was wrong. For…for a lot. At the time I was very…out of my element. I had you there but…I didn’t really. It was your mom’s event and she needed you to move around and schmooze and…and I needed you there with me. But I didn’t tell you that. And I should have—”

“Uh, yeah!” James shot up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The light had returned to his eyes, but it was a flickering flame. Not so much hatred, thankfully, but anger for sure. Frustration. And maybe a twinge of confusion. “You really should have!” Blowing out a breath, he rubbed his hands across his face and he shook his head. “I don’t get it! You’re the one who keeps saying you want open communication!”

Shame weighed down her head. “I know.”

“And you’re the one who keeps saying you want respect.”

“I know.”

“And you’re the one who keeps saying you want honesty.”

“I know.”

“So why doesn’t this apply to you too?”

“It does.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Now he rubbed his hand across his mouth. “You’ve always been able to talk to me, Mickey. Always. And yet this one time you didn’t.”

“I got scared.”

“Of what? Of me?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then what?”

“Of the whole thing!” She hadn’t meant to be so loud, so abrupt, but it shot out of her all at once. All the anguish and frustration and. “I’m not used to that world, James! I don’t belong there!” Sniffing, she scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve, willing herself not to let the tears lining up on her eyelids fall. “And I could tell other people thought that too. And I knew they were wondering ‘what’s that girl doing on his arm’? And I just…I couldn’t handle it.”

“You’re my girlfriend. Obviously you’d be there.”

“I know but I’m not like the girlfriends I knew they think you should have. Especially your mom.”

James scoffed. “My mom doesn’t matter.”

Mickey rolled her eyes. “Of course she matters! She’s the only reason we went!”

“Well sor-ry for wanting to show you off.”

“I’m not blaming you, James! I’m trying to explain!” She slowly counted to five and pushed her hair out her face. Then she gathered it up and draped it down one side, letting head escape off her neck. “They’re all…fancy and dripping in jewelry I’d never be able to afford. And…and they haven’t pushed a lawn mower. Or gone a month and a half having to save money just to afford a good Christmas gift for their parents. They talked about taking trips to the Alps and vacationing in the Hamptons and…strange luxury skincare routines. I couldn’t keep up.” She twisted her mouth to the side, a brief attempt to stave off the words that had bounced around in her mind, but there was no point. Being honest was the best thing now. “I’ve never felt more inadequate in my life. I kept stumbling whenever they asked me questions about my life and what I do and I just felt so…stupid. Some of the kids around me kept saying it’d help smooth things out and I got desperate. I wanted to be my best for you, but I—clearly—went about it the wrong way.”

His swallow was audible. He blinked once, twice, three times and a sheen appeared over his eyes. “What about the rest?”

“Uhm…” She dreaded this part. This part was what kept her in bed all weekend, hiding under her covers, clutching her pillows and wishing it was all a bad dream. “They started asking questions, if I knew anyone around the place. If I’d heard of them or knew what they were about. I felt like it was some kind of game or something against me. And then they started…they started asking me about you and what you were like and if you still did this or still acted like that. And I got a little…caught up in it.”

That was an understatement. She hadn’t meant to join in on their ribbing. But her alcohol-soaked brain couldn’t keep up with their questions. And for the first time in her life people seemed to be really interested in what she said, what she was thinking. And they knew him! Most of them did, anyway. They grew up in overlapping circles with business-minded parents. So it was them catching up, or so her brain had excused at the time. Her eyes burned and her head throbbed and her nose tingled and stuffed, prepared to break. She held strong, even as the biting comments replayed in her head.

“Is he really that vain?”

“No. Not really. I mean, sometimes, he talks about himself. …Well, he talks about himself a lot. I don’t know if he’s ever heard silence before.”

“How do you put up with that?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind it. It does get annoying sometimes, though. Like…you realize you’re dating me and not your mirror right? Sometimes I want to talk. I mean, do I have to put a picture of your face over my face for you to want to know what I’m interested in?”

“He’s always been like that. Always has to remind people he’s so important and he’s Brooke Diamond’s kid and he’s the best at everything.”

“Not everythin’. He was kind of a bad kisser at first. I mean it was good but a little too eager. Like trying to win kissin’ points or somethin’.”

“Wow. He’s lucky he’s hot.”

“I know, right? He’s like a puppy! Slobbered like one at first too.”

“You had a handful training him then?”

“You have no idea. But it’s worth it.”

“How long have you been together?”

“A little under a year.”

“Does he shit gold or somethin’? That’s some patience.”

“Well…he’s hot. But he’s kinda dumb. He’s a real good singer, though. And he’s hot. So it balances out. I wouldn’t torture myself like this for nothin’.”

She’d turned away after that, the urge to empty her bladder hitting her strong. But the hit to her chest and her heart was much worse when she spotted James behind her, holding two plates in one hand and two glasses in the other. His mouth pulled in, his eyes squinted, and then his face relaxed and turned to stone. She watched, breaths shaky, as he set the plates and glasses down on the empty tray of a passing waiter, put a smile on his face, and approached. And when he placed a hand on her lower back she trembled all over, barely hearing him telling the others something had come up and they were going to leave. Everything blurred together after that, thanks in part to the tears flooding her eyes.

She hadn’t been able to face him since.

“Do you actually think that? About me? That you’re torturing yourself being with me?”

“No! I don’t, at all!” She slid off the bed, kneeling in front of him to take his hands. They shook beneath her grip. She rubbed her thumbs against the backs of his hands and looked up at him. He looked away. “I didn’t say my thoughts right.” She swallowed the lump rising in her throat and pressed on. “It was really…really bad wording.” Being with him wasn’t torture. Being with him was the best thing that ever happened to her. He had to know that! “You’ve always been so sweet and understanding and attentive in ways I could’ve only imagined. That’s why I feel so lucky to be with you. That someone like you wants to be with me. I love being with you, James.

“I’m so, so sorry. I hurt you. I know that. I should’ve stuck up for you. I should’ve had your back. I was insecure and you suffered for it. I should’ve walked away from the conversation.” Still nothing. She squeezed his hands tighter. “I won’t do it ever again. I promise.” Not that she would ever be invited back to a place like that. She was lucky Mrs. Diamond spared a plus one her way, especially with all the ways she’d made it clear she had other people in mind for James; people with better backgrounds, better stakes in the world, better worth.

Better, better, better.

“Can I…I just need to know something.”

Mickey nodded rapidly, her hair swinging in front of her face at the motion. “Anything. Whatever you need.”

Finally, he looked at her again. A rock dropped hard in her stomach at the deep sadness darkening the hazel in his eyes. “…Why do I have to keep proving myself to you?”

“James—”

“I mean”—he let out a humorless laugh—"I’m just…sick and tired of having to…to work to get people to see I’m worth it. I mean, I think I am. I know I am. First…first my mom. And then Gustavo. …I thought you were the one person I didn’t have to do that with.”

Tears fell freely down her face, rolled over her cheeks and curled beneath her chin. “…I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He pulled his hands from hers. She momentarily gripped the air, holding onto the last bits of warmth before it was kicked aside by the cool air. She curled her fingers into her palms and forced herself away from him, when all she wanted to do was hug him, hold him close and smell the Piranha Man Spray he (and she) loved. (‘Cuda reworked and rebranded after getting hit with numerous lawsuits over allergic reactions and animal testing. James liked the Zeus line.) He stretched out on the bed, resuming his old position staring up at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on his stomach.

She watched him, waiting, twisting her fingers within one another. “Um…do you want to talk more or…?”

“No.” The single word was blunt, but it cut right through her. His chest lifted, dropped, and he rolled onto his side, his back facing her. ”Can you just go?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay.” She nodded again, wiping the tears off her face with her sleeve. She made it all the way to the door when she paused. “James? …If…if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

Silence.

She deserved it.

And she sat in it when she finally forced herself out of the room, out of the apartment, down the hall, and to the elevator. It was only when the doors closed, fusing her broken image back together, thought slightly jagged, that she broke down and sobbed.

[ceruleanmusings]

.7

james' and mickey's first big fight wasn't even a fight but a very poignant moment of disappointment and hurt. james took mickey to a beauty event hosted by his mother that he was not-so-subtly forced to attend. nervous at being around people who didn't look like her, who had more money than her, who were a higher class than her, she handled it the wrong way by letting her insecurities and anxiety lead her to drink. she got drunk and started rattling off at the mouth when his industry acquaintances started asking about him, her, and them. safe to say, she messed up. bad. and he was there to hear it all. but he never yelled at her, he just made an excuse to take her home.

when she went to apologize the next day, he asked her the one question that solidified her massive fuck up: "why do i have to keep proving myself to you?"

when he asked to talk the day after she beat him to it, stating she'd never drink again (she'd always been against it but got worn down which she kicks herself for going against her once-thought-to-be-strong morals), she already spoke to kelly who helped book herself a therapy appointment, and acknowledged that her insecurities ran deeper than she thought and she'd do a better job telling him when she reached that point rather than stuffing it down and keeping quiet to save face. she apologies again and he accepts it, and while he understands and realizes this is very much an outlier for her, he makes it very clear he wouldn't accept it if she did it again.

it becomes a small bump in their relationship and they're stronger from that moment on.

[ceruleanmusings]

you had me at pie - mickames

@raging-violets @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

Mickey lifted a scoop of pale peach ice cream, turning it upside down at the last minute so the first taste on her tongue burst with flavor rather than drag along the dull swipe of metal.

It didn’t disappoint; the familiar punch of vanilla coating her tongue lit up her taste buds, lingering as it melted and sunk into the crevices. A few moments later the winter peach made its presence known, sharply cutting through the thick vanilla with its sweet flavor, tinged at the back with a hint of floral aftertaste.

It was heaven.

Her eyes slipped shut, lips curling upwards around the spoon in her mouth. A happy, bouncing hum sounded at the back of her throat and her shoulders wiggled partially in happiness and partially in time with the fizzy pop track playing over the speakers of Bianca’s, an artisan ice cream shop James found in Pasadena.

Opening her eyes and letting the sweet treat melt against her tongue, Mickey set her spoon back in the near-empty cup. She flexed her feet, allowing the toebox of her shoes to drag the barstool closer to the shiny wooden counter, no doubt adding another scuff to the royal blue leather. The shiny wood bit at her elbows when she learned forward, propping her chin up on her palms. Her eyes focused past the backwards chalky lettering painted on the windows to the streets outside, awash in spilled gold from the slow-setting sun.

Her eyes followed a few passersby flittering from one side of the window to the other: a family of four with a little girl bouncing along behind her parents and older brother, pigtails swinging; an older man and woman shuffling along, a weathered hand grasping his elbow; a woman with a pink lob rolling by on a bright red bike; two guys with muscles so large their arms swung wide, hinged at their broad shoulders; a man in a leather jacket, large, long flowing black skirt, dark complexion and a pop of orange lipstick.

And then there was James.

Her eyes drew to him as if on autopilot. It used to be against her own volition; the charisma and magnetism emanating from him had a hold on her she didn’t want to touch let alone acknowledge until recently. (Two and a half weeks ago to be exact). But now she couldn’t help herself.  Especially when he shifted from side to side of a tree across the street, pulling a branch down as held his extended arm this way and that, stretching his lips out in a strange exaggeration of duck lips meeting Blue Steel. He always knew how to make her laugh, even when he didn’t know she needed it. Especially when he didn’t know she needed it.

A gaggle of giggling girls came up to them, all hesitant and shy until he flashed a smile and nodded. Probably affirming their double checking if he was, indeed, James Diamond of Big Time Rush. Their shrieks and repeated mantras of “Oh my god, oh my god” pierced through the glass while they shifted from side to side, stuck between wanting to get up close and wanting to keep composure. Mickey knew the tread of that tightrope.

She propped her cheek up on her palm and watched as they switched off between holding glossy magazine pages out for him to sign and fumbling with their phones for pictures. His smile remained, his stance relaxed, and he looked every girl in the eye, causing them to bounce and shriek and flutter their hands, as if ready to take flight.

And she got it. She liked to think she kept her emotions reined in but that feeling, that look of awe on their faces, the admiration glowing like neon in their eyes, she knew it well. They bloomed in the spotlight he pointed towards them. She’d only just gotten used to the glow herself. It didn’t blind her as much as it used to.

Each one got their own turn, speaking with him about something she couldn’t hear. Maybe about their music, maybe about his hair, maybe about the weather. Either way they all stood with rapt attention, hanging onto every word, the rosy blush on their cheeks contrasting the stars in their eyes. And once they all got their pictures in and started shuffling off with waves and gushes of thanks and clutched phones, they were nearly undone all over again at his little two-finger wave and wink.

If she’d been sitting with any of her friends, she knew what they’d say: that he fed his ego and he’d be riding on the high of their attention for weeks. But, then again, they didn’t look at James the way she did. Or maybe he didn’t let them see what she now witnessed: the soft look in his eye, the triumphant pump to his hands, the satisfied smile gracing his lips as he watched them walk off.

God, he was beautiful.

She at the remaining bit of ice cream, gathered up their empty cartons, threw them out, and went to the counter to pay. The woman in the striped apron behind the counter flashed her a smile and informed her it’d already been taken care of. Of course, it was.

James locked eyes with her when the bell rang on her exit and butterflies erupted in her stomach with the spotlight turned on her. By the time she’d crossed the street and reached him, she basked in its glow and swore it’d be embedded in her skin forever.

“What?” he asked with a little laugh as she gazed up at him.

The words nearly leapt off her tongue until she snapped her lips together and held them back. She tumbled them through her mind, trying to find a filter, and came up empty. One eyebrow scrunched, just slightly. Would it be so wrong to just say what she thought? People always said honesty was the best policy, but would this be too far? They were barely a thing. Brand new and she didn’t want to rush it (no pun intended). But then, James never had a problem stating his thoughts and feelings, even before they were reciprocated. He’d always said what he felt, not caring about anything past the veracity behind his statements. People could take or leave it. And if he was brave enough to be forthcoming, why couldn’t she?

“You’re beautiful,” she stated, the words floating along her bated breath, heart thrumming.

James’ long lashes fluttered against his blink and his smile opened his face, allowing sunbeams to all but squeeze out between his teeth. “You are, too.”

“Thanks.” Heat crawled up her neck and settled in her cheeks and she fought the strong urge to rebuff his compliment. “But I meant with your fans.” She nudged his arm, and they walked down the street. “And, you too, but mostly them.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he said, waving his hand.

“It is to them.”

“I know. It’s just…well, I love doing this.” He didn’t need to say that, she knew in the way his eyes lit up, the way he left himself on the stage, the way his heady words struck her. “But I also know we wouldn’t be here without the fans. At the end of the day, it’s not about us, it’s about them. It’s about putting on a show for them and giving them a place to just—”

“Exist?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “I get it.”

“I knew you would.” He bumped her arm and she bumped him back, stumbling into his side. The solid feel of the length of his arm against hers made her course correct and clear her throat. “Did you like Bianca’s?”

“Yes!” She nodded so hard she battered her swinging locks away from her face. “It’s amazing! I didn’t know they had so many flavors! Especially that habanero pepper one? I gotta try that next. Maybe I can make a series of it. Try a new flavor each time and review it.” She made a face. “Guess I’ll have to try the peach one again then, if I want good pictures to go with it.”

James pulled out his phone, swiped his thumb a few times, and held it out to her. “Would this help?”

Mickey stared at herself on the screen, frozen in time from a half hour before when she first tasted the peach ice cream. The hanging lightbulb lamps from above nearly lit a halo over her head, casting a golden glow on her skin which lit up her eyes like little fires glowing from within her, putting the freckles dotting her skin on display. “Actually, yeah, that’s perfect! Can you send this to me?” She’d nearly given the phone back when the screen shifted to another picture of her from a week before, happily eyeing a crazy decorated milkshake jar. “What’s…this?”

James’ large hand took over the screen, pulling the phone out her hand. “It’s nothing.”

“No wait, James, seriously.” She took the phone back and began swiping, pic after pic sliding to show her in the middle of eating a cookie, a soft pretzel, a brownie, a macaron, a pastry, and other treats in various flavors. She nearly collided with an older woman while she walked, quickly uttering an apology to her and then James when she pressed against his side. “Is this all me?”

“It’s nothing!” She shot him a look and he blew out a breath, running a hand though his hair. “Okay. It’s, um…every time we’ve eaten somewhere I…kind of take pictures of you.” He hastily added, “Not to be creepy!” and took his phone back, shoving it into his back pocket. “It’s just…you’re always so happy when you’re trying something different, and I think…it’s one of the times you’re really pretty so…”

Her eyebrows crinkled. “When I’m stuffing my face?”

“When you’re enjoying the moment.” His shoulders bounced in a shrug and he murmured, “I like to think it’s also ‘cause I’m there.”

It came out of her without needing to think about it. “It is.” Grins burst on their faces at the same time and when they bumped against each other again, she slipped her hand in his before the ricochet sent her too far away from him. The warmth of his skin against her palm sent her pulse skittering. “How about next time we go to that pie place? Pie Palette? We can get pie flights, where they give you slices of their top five flavors of the week.”

“You had me at pie.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a date.”

[ceruleanmusings]

.8

james agonizes over what to get mickey for christmas. they're strictly friends now and he knows that but he still wants to get her something special just in case there's even the tiiiiiiiiniest bit of a chance her feelings would change. in the end, after dealing with griffin's ridiculous last minute EP demands, he gives her a business card. it's the name of his mom's go-to caterer; he explains that he told the man about her so whenever she's brave enough to give him a call, he's ready to meet her and potentially get her a stage opportunity. (he has no idea what that means but knows it's important.)

mickey, in turn, already had a gift for james decided on since july. it just took her a long time to get it perfect for the holiday. she gifts him a blackberry pie. he takes a bite and is immediately shocked, touched, and elated all at once. it tastes exactly like the pie his bubbe would make him for christmas and his birthday every year. based off the way james would rant and rave about it, she manages to reverse engineer it so he could have it again.

he can't help himself; he tries to use the mistletoe on a hockey stick. she calmly but firmly tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she wouldn't let outdated christmas traditions force her to kiss someone and she would do it on her own because she wanted to when she wanted to, thank you very much. he apologies.

later when mickey and her family are ready to leave after spending the whole day in their pajamas at the palm woods, they say goodbye with a hug, which mickey then uses as an opportunity to give him a kiss on the cheek. the two can't stop smiling the rest of the day.

[ceruleanmusings]

desolation part 2

part two to this headcanon expansion. self-reflection works wonders. @partiallypearl @myloveforhergoeson

------

The golden sunshine bathing the Palm Woods with the promise of hope and opportunity hurt her eyes. Them being raw and swollen from her bouts of crying certainly didn’t help. Sammi insisted she throw on some makeup for once in her life or at least wear sunglasses to save face but what was the point? She wanted to face what she did, wanted to see the pain she inflicted.

It’s why she hopped out of bed the moment she got James’ text asking her to come over so they could talk. Well, part of the reason. She still had the desire to be around him. Who didn’t? He was a magnet; even before they got together, when they were friends, somehow, without her realizing it, her time shifted from being mostly spent with her sisters to being mostly spent with him. Carlos was with them a lot as well, of course, but she started getting used to and wanting James’ individual attention. She’d told herself it was just that she enjoyed his company until she couldn’t deny it was much more than his company she enjoyed.

Maybe it was selfish but if what they had was broken, if she ruined it, she wanted at least one more time with him. It’d make the pill she’d been choking on the last two days easier to swallow; the rancid smack of it burned her throat and churned her stomach and she deserved it.

She did briefly wonder why he chose for them to meet in one of the cabanas on the pool deck but then it all made sense. It was where they first met, where they sought out more time after fire pit jams, where they had their first kiss, where he first told her he loved her. They started there, might as well end there.

Her approach was slow, her doc martens crunching on the concrete. Yeah, flip flops would’ve made much more sense, but they were her first “big” purchase when she got her first check playing for the guys. Being able to afford them when she was still home was a pipe dream; she’d wear them until they fell off her feet.

James fiddled with a straw in a drink, sending the pale-yellow liquid and bobbing ice chunks into a cyclone. Another cup sat nearby. Mickey twisted her fingers. Even after all that he still got lemonade for her. Fuck, she really didn’t deserve him.

Still, she kept her legs moving and offered up a quiet hello and a small wave once she reached his table. He sat up straight, like he always did when she approached, but the energy wasn’t there. Strike two. She shouldn’t have said anything about that. He was eager sometimes, yes, but now she didn’t realize how nice it was for him to always be so happy to see her. Well, at least he wasn’t running away.

He nudged her drink towards her when she sat. She took it even though she wasn’t thirsty. At least she could mess with that, keep her hands occupied rather than pinch and pull and tug at the hem of her shirt or pull on her fingers too much.

Silence grated between them, rubbing on her raw nerves and sharpened hackles. It was wrong, all wrong. James started talking a mile a minute when she came around, usually something about his hair or some new clothes he bought or the new step to his plan for world renown or something silly trouble the guys got into. But now he sat quietly, lips pressed together, watching her, as if he didn’t know where to start. Her heart crawled up her chest, pounding a painful rhythm until it sat lodged in her throat and thrummed in her bones. By the time James shifted his position, curling his long legs inward, rounding his shoulders, and sucked in a breath, Mickey’s let hers all out at once.

“Can I go first?” And she winced, at the abrupt propulsion of her words, at . But he sat still and he nodded, offering a hand up in her direction. She started to reach out for it, for him, but he retreated a second. Oh. Right, he was…. Heat pooled in her cheeks, and she shoved her hands into her lap, embarrassment making her duck her head down. Idiot! She deserved that too.

She swallowed, parted her lips, and swallowed again. Reread the note in her mind she’d written over and over again until it held the perfect words that fit him, that he deserved. She’d written it out by hand on note-cards over and over again until it was seared into her brain. She brought the words forward once more, pushing down the sour bile threatening to slosh up her throat.

“I’m sorry.” She’d said it a million times before, but she needed to say it again. He needed to hear her again. He once told her he’d never gotten many sorrys around his house—houses, since he bounced between his parents a lot. She wanted to give him as many as he deserved. “I-I hurt you and I embarrassed you.” She paused, swallowed, and continued. “I was uncomfortable in a situation I didn’t feel I belonged in, and I chose to drink and join in disparaging you to make myself feel better. Or…” She swallowed again. “Or…to make myself feel worse to prove exactly why I felt I didn’t belong because I thought everyone else was thinking it anyway.” His mouth twisted to the side and his eyes squinted, just slightly. His slender fingers drummed against the sweating plastic of his drink, ice tinkling and clacking against one another. “That was wrong. I should have immediately come to you and explained how I was feeling. I fucked up. I won’t drink ever again. I’ll remove myself from any situation I don’t feel comfortable in. I won’t talk to them again. And…and I talked to Aunt Kelly and I scheduled a therapy appointment.”

“Why?”

She scratched at her hairline, blocking her face. “You….always say and do these nice things. You’ve very attentive and you’re…you’re very forward with what you think of me and how you see me. And…”

“And you don’t believe me.”

She grabbed at the lemonade, allowed the cold to seep into her palms. She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…hard for me to accept it. Or…or feel like I deserve it.” The plastic cracked in her hands beneath the strength of her shaky grip. Her eyes trained on the water level bobbing up and down. “I always knew I had some self-doubt but I never really…realized how bad it was. Until I hurt you because of it.” A stab of pain in her stomach brought her to a halt. She took in a breath, let it out, breathed in again, let it out again. Keep going. Just keep going. “So…” Here was the hard part. “So…if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

One, two, three seconds passed. She glanced up. James blinked back at her. “Why do you keep saying that?” The six words came out slow, as if testing shaky ground.

Huh. Of all the things he could’ve said this one didn’t come to mind in the whirlwind of worst-case scenarios that kept her up all night. “Because…I will?”

“No, the breaking up part. I don’t want to break up with you.” His concern rapidly switched over to fear, eyes widening, mouth dropping open. “Wait, do you want to break up with me?”

“No!” His whole body deflated as he blew out relief. It only stoked her confusion. “But, I just figured…”

“Well…well stop doing that!” James said, spluttering.

“James—”

He waved his hands, blocking her words. She pressed her lips together, stopping the rambling waterfall from dripping out of her mouth. “Look, I talked to Mama Knight too. And I thought about what happened. A lot. It kinda hurt.” He pointed at the side of his head and she let a chuckle shake out of her. He crackled a smile as well, though it fell off a few seconds later. “I’ve said and done a lot of dumb stuff. I’ve messed up with us.” He gestured vaguely between them only to then card his hand through his hair and blow out a sigh. “It wouldn’t be fair the one time you mess up that I break up with you if you haven’t broken up with me for all the stuff I’ve done.”

“…Oh.” He reached out his hand like before, palm upwards, gesturing in her direction, but he held it. Her body jolted with realization, and she placed her hand in his. Sparks popped at her fingertips as they always did when he touched her.

“I want you to be my girlfriend still.”

The intensity in his hazel eyes had her breathing easier. “Okay.”

“And I’m going to keep saying nice things because I believe them and I feel them and I want you to know it.”

“Okay.”

He squeezed her hand. “I forgive you. But…I won’t if you do it again. I…I need you on my side. Not just as my girlfriend, but as my friend too.”

She nodded instead of saying ‘okay’ again. She almost laughed at the deep frown appearing on his face when she removed her hand from his grasp. Sliding out from her side of the table, she stood with her arms open and, in the next second, she was in his arms, right where she belonged. Shew knew that now. “And I’m sorry, again,” she mumbled against his chest, memorizing the rhythmic beats of his heart. “The thing is…I don’t really like me.”

“I do,” he stated so plainly she stopped herself from blocking his words and let them sink in. She deserved to have good things and not set out to ruin them. She had to remind herself of that sometimes. Aunt Kelly wasn’t joking when she said it would be a process.

“I know,” she said. “But…I don’t know how we can work if I don’t. And…and I don’t think I can be a good girlfriend or a good friend or even a person until I figure out how to get past that. Or at least learn to live with it.” He hummed and she wrapped her arms tighter around his waist. He was solid and comfortable at the same time. “I don’t like feeling this way, but I do. I just want you to know I’m working on it and I'm getting help for it. Because I want us to work. I’ll try for you. And for me, mostly, but, y’know, you’re kinda important and important to me so…” He took her face in his hands and she was thankful for his hold on her or else she would’ve melted to the floor with the sheer tenderness in his touch. He brought her head forward and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re gonna have to be patient with me,” she continued, nuzzling her nose against his. “I know that’s not your strong suit...”

“Mickey, I waited a year for you to finally like me back,” James said, thumbs caressing her cheeks, “I can wait however long it takes for you to like you.”

She beamed at that, popping up on her tiptoes to place a light kiss on his lips. He followed her when she rested back on her heels, kissing her again. Her heart, back in its protective cage around her ribs, sang. “I should let you go,” she said, reluctantly pulling away from him. His eyes followed the drag of the tip of her tongue against her lower lip, tasting the touch of his. “It’s peak sunning hours, right?”

“You know, you can always stay.”

“And what? Watch you tan? Or get skin cancer?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, but that was before when I…” She cut her words off, eyes widening as one of his eyebrows popped up.

“When you were checking me out?” Her mouth opened and closed and he let out that sly chuckle that she felt all the way down to her toes. “Why do you think I picked those tanning hours?”

“You wanted me to watch?” You'd have to be blind not to notice the great shape James was in. While she hadn't had any feelings for him past platonic at the time she couldn't stop herself from taking peeks here and there. And everywhere.

“Duh. I don’t look like this for myself.” She snorted as he continued, curling one arm to form an impressive bicep, “This is a gift I give to the world.”

“How generous.” Despite her sarcasm, she allowed her eyes to travel over the undulating curve of his arm...and over the rest of him. “…You do have a particularly pleasing physique that I appreciate.”

“That’s a bunch of words just for you to say you think I’m hot.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed him away. She thought he was a lot of things: confident, passionate, determined, talented, magnetic, vain, dramatic, cocky, and yes, hot.

But, most importantly, he was hers. And that's all that mattered.