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grapesodatozier · 6 years ago

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It’s Not Like Christmas At All

merry chrysler!! have some christmas wheelzier angst lol

title taken from “Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)” which is my favorite christmas song ever

words: 4,226

no warnings other than sadness lol

read on ao3 or below!!

It had been the one of the worst Decembers of Mike’s life. He loved his new job, he really did, but it had him living in Florida, and the only place he sometimes travelled to was Texas. He’d once been sent to Nevada, which had been awesome, but it still didn’t change much temperature-wise. Mike felt so out of his element; December wasn’t supposed to be hot. Getting up every morning for work was so much worse when he had to put on light clothes. He grimaced whenever he left the house without a jacket, the image of snow-covered mountains on his calendar mocking him. He pouted as he tried to smooth his frizzy hair down all day, a struggle that was year-round in Florida. He missed New York, where the humidity only affected him for about a quarter of the year. He missed the trees and the lights and the snow and the hot chocolate. He even missed the carolers and the tourists.

Most of all he missed Richie.

It had been ten months since Mike landed his new job at NASA. It had been seven months since he and Richie had come to the painful realization that Richie living in New York City while sometimes travelling to Los Angeles and Mike living in Florida while sometimes travelling to Texas was not going to allow for their relationship to continue. This was Mike’s first Christmas without Richie in five years, and he just wanted to drink spiked egg nog with him while cuddling under a blanket and watching Christmas movies. The heat and humidity were salt in wounds that were still very open and felt very fresh.

Mike loved his job; it was his dream job. He even went to the holiday party his local branch had thrown, and it was actually pretty fun - maybe not as flashy as the ones he’d attended with his famous comedian boyfriend, but impressive as far as company holiday parties go. But he still had to face the mistletoe, had to remember that there would be no lanky, charming dork to pull him underneath it so that he could press tipsy kisses all over Mike’s face in front of high profile people Mike was trying to impress. Mike smiled fondly at the memory of Richie calming him down, of working the nerves out of him with a little bit of rum and a whole lot of hand holding and kisses to his heated cheeks. A year later and Mike swore he could feel the ghost of that large hand placed on his lower back to gently guide him through the crowd. You’re so cute when you’re star-struck. He could hear the low, teasing voice in his ear, he could almost feel his breath cascading down his neck. Mike struggled to remember the smell of his cologne, something he desperately didn’t want to forget.

Mike had made plenty of work friends, some of whom recognized him as Richie Tozier’s boyfriend from the tabloids and all of whom did their best to set him up with eligible bachelors and bachelorettes at any opportunity. Mike was sure that news of whom he had broken up with to get this job had spread, and he also knew that he looked pretty miserable at times, despite the genuine love he felt for what he did. Because of this, he wasn’t surprised that his friends were trying to get him to move on. He even accepted one of the dates a couple of weeks before, but the entire night things fell flat. No one had Richie’s wit, no one painted bold strokes to bring out Mike’s own like Richie had.

His one solace was that he was leaving in the morning on a flight to Indiana, where he could see his mom and sisters, and where it would at least be cold. It had been years since Mike had spent Christmas day in Hawkins, as he and Richie had spent the morning together in their New York apartment before driving a couple of hours upstate to spend the afternoon of the holiday and the next day or two with his parents. They flew out to Hawkins after that, spending a few days with Mike’s family (and some of the Party, if they were lucky) before flying back to New York, the only place to welcome the New Year, Richie would say every year.

Despite the Florida heat, Mike’s bed felt unbelievably cold as he fell asleep on the night of December 23rd.

He was grateful for the stress of a holiday airport, as he always had something to focus on, something to keep him alert and distracted from the longing and melancholy that threatened to consume him. He read on the flight, doing his best to not think about all the planes he had taken around this time the past few years. Unfortunately, he found it nearly impossible to forget how adorably excited Richie would get watching the animation of their plane flying over the country, the way he would insist on giving Mike the window seat just to lean over him and stare at the world below. He missed the weight of Richie’s head on his shoulder, even the harsh jab of his glasses. He missed sharing a set of headphones with Richie and trying to suppress his laughter at the ridiculous sight of Richie playing highly exaggerated air guitar and air drums - much to the dismay of the haughty, three-piece-suit-clad other first class passengers. Mike spent a lot of his current flight holding back tears.

His shoulders slumped in relief as he caught sight of Nancy and Jonathan waiting for him at his gate. He hugged them both, taking his time, allowing himself the comfort of familiar embraces, familiar smells. Still, though he was happy to see them, luggage claim wasn’t the same with them. He found himself making up stories in his head about the owners of each piece of luggage like he and Richie used to do, but that only made his eyes brim with tears. He clenched his jaw and held them back, but the way Nancy rested her head on his shoulder told him he wasn’t doing a great job of hiding his efforts.

The cold air that blasted him as they exited the overheated airport was very welcome to him, and he took a moment to close his eyes and just embrace it. “You guys have no idea how good you have it,” he told them, refusing to get in the car for a solid minute. He let the cold seep into his bones, let it nip at his nose, just as it should that time of year.

Nancy and Jonathan filled Mike in on what Holly’s new girlfriend was like on the drive home, both of their voices full of mirth and amusement and resounding approval. It made Mike smile; he was happy for his sisters, even if he was a bit jealous of their thriving love lives. Mike’s heart also lifted at the knowledge that the entire Party would be home for the holiday, that all six of them would be together for the first time in a while. Having that to look forward to helped ease the tightness in his chest. He watched Indiana pass him by through the car window, nodding absently along to the mixtape Jonathan had made, answering the questions he and Nancy asked him, ignoring the empty seat next to him as best he could until they were pulling into the driveway.

Holly popped up from the couch as soon as the door opened, hugging Mike before he had the chance to even set his bags down. Karen wasn’t far behind with a warm hug, gushing about all of the freckles Mike had, “And on the fourth day of winter! I’m glad you’re taking advantage of the sun, God knows we could use some of that up here.”

Mike chatted weather with his mother for a little while longer before she told him to go upstairs and unpack. Holly insisted on taking one of Mike’s bags up to his room and chatted his ear off the whole way about all of the homework she had been assigned over break. It made Mike smile, a genuine warmth in his chest as his little sister plopped herself down onto his bed, her long blonde hair spread around her head comically. Mike debated whether or not he should unpack and then decided he could live out of his suitcase for the week before settling on the floor with his back against his desk to listen to his sister ramble.

Usually the fact that he could never get a minute alone during visits home had Mike extremely on edge, but this year there was nothing he was more grateful for. His family kept his mind off of Richie as much as possible. Holly didn’t leave his room until Karen called them down for dinner. Jonathan had gone home to eat with Joyce, Hopper, El, and Will, as well as El’s partner, which left Mike alone with his mom and sisters. Over dinner they asked him about Florida and Texas, about the food and the weather and the wildlife. (“Wait, you’ve seen how many alligators?” - Holly’s incredulous question.) Mike asked Holly as much as he could about her life while avoiding the dreaded college search questions that would undoubtedly take up the majority of the conversation on Christmas Day when Karen’s sisters and parents came over. Karen spilled all of the town gossip she knew, to which Mike listened with an amused grin and a knowing look shared with Nancy. Nancy told what she could about her job, but her career as a detective didn’t much lend itself to dinner conversation (a rule enforced more by Karen than by the United States government, as she insisted it was too dark for the dinner table).

Mike did the dishes as usual - partly to spite his dad, who never even considered washing a dish in his life, but mostly because after so many years it still made his mom so happy she got teary-eyed. If Mike hadn’t already wanted to punch Ted before, the fact that his mother got emotional at the sight of a man in her life doing something small and considerate for her sure made him want to deck him. He was putting the last of the dishes away when he heard the basement door open and the unmistakable sound of Max shouting “Wheeler!” excitedly up the stairs.

Mike beamed and rushed down the stairs, finding Lucas and Max shivering and coatless in his basement. Mike shook his head fondly - they both insisted that the walk down the block didn’t warrant coats, yet they were always shaking by the time they got to Mike’s house, and they were cold to the touch as Mike wrapped his arms around each of them. “Wow, a year in Florida and you’re still as white as a sheet,” Max teased.

“Ten years in California and I could say the same about you,” he teased back with a smile. As he was hugging Lucas again, Will, Dustin, El, and her partner, Dylan, flooded in, swarming him in more hugs. It sort of took Mike’s breath away, the amount of genuine love he was receiving. He definitely got choked up, his voice barely working as he struggled to say his hellos and hold back tears at the same time. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d been around so many people he actually loved. He thought El might’ve noticed, as she gave him one of her looks and held him a bit tighter and longer than normal. He blushed at how obvious he must’ve been, but then his feelings were rarely a mystery to El. It was actually very comforting, as El never pushed - just gave him a small smile that said everything, in a way so genuine and caring it made Mike want to cry even more.

It was so nice to be back together with all of his friends. They spent a while discussing Will’s new art exhibit, and Mike was happy to answer all of the questions his friends had about his new job. He even laughed at the “Houston, we have a problem” jokes Dustin kept making. It was also nice to talk about his job with people he loved who could largely understand what he was saying.

But it was weird without Richie. Dustin’s girlfriend had to stay in Colorado and Will’s boyfriend in New York, so it wasn’t like Mike was the only one without a hand to hold, but he’d grown so used to having Richie’s arms around him as they lounged on the floor together. He’d grown used to Richie’s voice bouncing off the walls of his basement, followed by a chorus of both laughter and groans. The banter Richie had always shared with Max was noticeably absent, and even though it had been something Mike had playfully complained about any time it happened, it left the room feeling somehow empty, the air a bit off. He missed the way Richie would press sporadic kisses to his hair, despite the fact that Mike complained ceaselessly about Richie’s affinity for PDA. He missed his hands and his jokes and his voice and the smiles the party members gave him. He loved Max and Lucas to death, and they were adorable, but he could barely look at them as the spiked egg nog brought them closer and closer to each other throughout the night. There were a few moments where they were cuddling and whispering and giggling together that Mike genuinely felt a bit nauseous. He blamed it on the egg nog. However, when he noticed the ring on El’s finger - which definitely hadn’t been there last year, or even in her last Instagram post - he knew it wasn’t just the alcohol or the dairy. He met El’s eye as he looked up and forced himself to smile when he saw that she was blushing and grinning at him. He raised an eyebrow at her, prompting her and Dylan to announce their engagement to the room. There were many cheers and shots of congratulations afterwards, Mike not excluded. He was ecstatic for them - they were great together. But with the alcohol running through his veins it was just a little too much to see the way Dylan looked at El, to see the look she returned to them. Once he’d hugged them both and offered his sincere congratulations, he snuck away to the kitchen, grateful to find that Karen, Nancy, and Holly had all gone upstairs.

He leaned on the sink and took a deep breath. His head swam a bit; he hadn’t realized how much he’d had to drink, and that last shot had him drunker than he had intended to get. He was so focused on steadying his breathing that he barely heard El come up behind him. “Hey,” she said softly with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Still, Mike jumped as he turned around.

“Hey,” he smiled back shakily. He took her hand in his and marveled at the ring on it. “This is beautiful, El. Dylan is super lucky.”

“I’m lucky too,” she smiled. But then her face got serious again, and she gripped Mike’s hand while caressing his face with the other. Mike’s bottom lip quivered at the contact; it had been so long since someone had touched him so tenderly. (The fact that it was his first love who now had a fiancé shook him even more, and the alcohol certainly wasn’t helping.) “How have you been?” The concern and openness in her voice nearly made him crumbled. He held her hand to his face and watched hers grow blurry.

“It’s hard,” he admitted in a shaky whisper. “I miss him.” At the first sign of a tear on his cheek El wrapped him in a tight embrace, allowing him to bury his face in his hair as he caught his breath. She didn’t say anything, and for that Mike was grateful - they both knew she didn’t have to say much. She said all she needed to by holding him: I’m sorry you’re going through this, but I’m right here. You’ll always have us. Maybe she was thinking other things, like maybe that he and Richie could work it out in the future, but if she was thinking them she thankfully didn’t voice them. She just held him until he pulled back and wiped the tears from his face. “I really am happy for you,” he told her. “You so deserve this.”

“I love you,” she smiled, running a hand through his hair once before holding both of his hands in her own.

“I love you, too,” he grinned. And even though the words were everything he needed to hear, and even though they were coming from one of his favorite people in the world, he still wished he could hear him saying it, wished that he was sitting down stairs with a drunk Richie wrapped around him whispering endless I love yous into his ear throughout the night. “I think I’m ready to go back down now,” he told her, letting her lead him downstairs. The thoughts didn’t subside, but they were easier to ignore when there were so many things going on in his friends’ lives for him to catch up on.

Everyone filed out around one-thirty, leaving Mike to turn out all of the lights and head up to his room alone. Normally he’d be leading a drunk Richie behind him, shushing him through poorly suppressed giggles. He’d have Richie’s mouth on his neck and his hands on his waist. Maybe before that they would’ve sprayed some whipped cream into each other’s mouths, trying and failing to stay quiet as they laughed at the innuendo. Then Richie would purposely get some on the corner of his mouth just so he could beg Mike to kiss it off. Mike remembered Richie deepening the kiss after that, every time, lifting him onto the counter and sliding his hands up his shirt until Mike stopped him, breathless, not wanting his mom or sisters to come down and find them. But that wasn’t happening tonight, maybe not ever again; it was like he was a ghost, though Mike knew rationally that he was only a phone call away, if he really needed him. Mike gripped the railing a little bit harder than necessary as he climbed up the stairs, willing himself not to cry now that he was alone with his thoughts. He made his way to his room quietly, hoping not to wake anybody as he closed the door. He walked over to his window, staring out of it onto his backyard. He smiled to himself; it was snowing.

He was about to change into his pajamas when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, figuring Dustin must have left something behind. He froze when he saw the caller ID. Apparently he never got around to changing his contact picture, as an image of Richie pressing a kiss to Mike’s cheek was filling his screen. He answered, bringing the phone to his ear, his blood cold. “Hello?” he nearly whispered, afraid his voice might not even work.

There was a beat of silence. Then, for the first time in months, Richie’s voice. “Hey,” he said, almost surprised, as if Mike had called him. “I didn’t think you were gonna pick up.” Mike’s heart dropped.

“I’ll always pick up when you call.” He figured he could blame that on the alcohol in the morning, but he knew the rum really had nothing to do with the lump in his throat and the fact that his heart was racing a mile a minute.

“Mike,” Richie breathed, his voice desperate and strained. Mike bit his lip and closed his eyes; he’d missed Richie saying his name. “Fuck.”

“So what’s up?” Mike asked, his own voice cracking. “Why… why’d you call?”

“I miss you.” Mike gripped the windowsill.

“Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy.”

“Me too.” There was silence from the other end of the line for a moment. Richie started to say something, just like he always did, but Mike cut him off. “I miss you too.”

“You do?” Richie’s voice was so soft and so vulnerable. The snow became blurry before him.

“I miss you so much,” he said, letting out a soft sob. “Every day.”

“Baby,” Richie said, his voice like a blanket around Mike’s shoulders; he wanted to crawl into it, wanted to tuck his head under Richie’s chin and listen to his heartbeat, the way he always did when he was upset. The tone of Richie’s voice made Mike wish they had ended badly. He wished - so many times - that there had been a fight, that all of his fond memories of Richie could be countered with bad ones. But any bad memories were inconsequential, unconjurable. Mike could only remember the good, because they hadn’t ended badly. They never really fought about anything serious. They never went to bed angry. And the end had only been so painful because they were both still so in love with each other. “I wish I was there with you, too. I wish I could be there for you.” Mike sobbed quietly, unable to express how badly he needed that, how badly he needed Richie to hold him. He should be holding Mike right now, tucked safely under the covers of Mike’s childhood bed, singing soft Christmas songs in Mike’s ear, first funny pop ones and then soft, sentimental ones until Mike fell asleep. But he was thousands of miles away. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have called-”

“No,” Mike insisted, mindless of his volume for a minute. Bringing it back down, he said, “I’m glad you did. God, I fucking miss you so much. I wanna see you so bad. Everything is, is wrong without you.”

“Baby-”

“I wanna go back to New York,” Mike kept on, the tears freely flowing, his sniffles and hiccups interrupting his speech. “I wanna wake up next to you tomorrow morning. I wanna suffer through airport lines and airplane food with you. I wanna drink coffee with you and see whose presents are more tragically wrapped.” Richie gave a small, pained chuckle at that. “I miss all of it. I miss you.”

“Mike.” Richie didn’t cry often, but he sounded close to it. “I love you.” Mike didn’t realize he’d fallen to his knees until he was looking at the heater instead of the snow. The sound of that voice saying those words had him trembling.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“Mike Wheeler, I love you so much,” Richie said, his voice swelled with something Mike couldn’t quite place. “I have not stopped loving you, not for a single day.”

“I never stopped loving you,” Mike said, his voice cracking again. “I love you so much, Richie. It’s so nice to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to hear yours, too.” Mike could hear the small grin in his voice. “I needed to hear your voice. Kind of a… masochistic Christmas present to myself.”

“It doesn’t have to hurt,” Mike said. Richie stayed silent. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Mike,” Richie started again, his voice tired and hurting.

“I could quit.”

“Mike.” His voice was much firmer now - still gentle, but Mike knew not to argue. “Why don’t you get some sleep, angel? If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow we can talk again. I’d love to hear your voice again. But right now I think you’re a little drunk and very tired, and I think you need to sleep.”

“Sleeping is so much harder without you.”

“Fuck, I know,” Richie agreed with a heavy sigh. “I miss holding you so bad. But we still have to sleep, okay? I don’t want you to exhaust yourself.” Mike nodded, even though Richie couldn’t see him. He didn’t know how he managed it, but Richie was one of few people who could tell Mike what to do and get results instead of punched.

“Okay,” he relented. “Do you promise to call me tomorrow?”

“If that’s still what you want.”

“Okay.”

“Merry Christmas, Wheelbarrow.” Mike smiled fondly at the old nickname.

“Merry Christmas, Richie.” And with that the line went dead.

He sat for a minute before getting up. He changed into pajamas and got into bed, wiping the salty tracks from his cheeks as best he could. In the time it took him to get into bed, Nancy had texted him twice.

Everything okay? 1:41 am.

Do you wanna talk about it? 1:42 am.

Maybe tomorrow, he sent back.

He settled into bed, emotionally drained but looking forward to talking to Richie again. He was extremely shaken, but it had also been really, really nice to hear Richie’s voice. He convinced himself that something might come of this talk. Deep down he knew it was unlikely that anything would change, but his tipsy and emotionally overwhelmed mind lulled him to sleep with overly optimistic assurances and fantasies. It was Christmas, after all, and he fell asleep exhausted but still high on the sound of Richie’s voice.

perma tag: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @reddie4thesinbin @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz @jessicaheartsderry @vegetarian-avocado @tinyarmedtrex @sml1104 @chocolatemangoose @reddie-for-anything

#wheelzier #wheelzier angst #wholesome mileven friendship bc i love them sm

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moodyandmoonyeyed · 7 years ago

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Are You Drunk?

Category: Stranger Things Characters: Eleven, Mike Wheeler (Mileven) Word Count: 1252 Summary: Mike can’t keep his feelings to himself anymore.

[A/N]: From this prompt list and requested by @strange-thangs because Ross is the cooliest.

“To Lucas!” “To Max!” “To marriage!” “To Nilla wafers!”

Cheers were going up all around the bar that the boys were currently as they celebrated the last few nights of Lucas being a bachelor. Tomorrow they’d wake up with hangovers and go to the rehearsal dinner, heads hung in exhaustion and because honestly, they just felt a little heavy. In two days they’d all be heading down the aisle, watching the first of the boys - the first two of the party members - tie the knot. It was a weird feeling, growing up. Mike, who had always been so wrapped up in stories of adventure and myth, had basically lived some of those stories, and had solidified the kind of person he was through it all, wasn’t quite as close to coming to terms with it as everyone else seemed to be.

That was the only explanation for why tonight, as of about two hours ago, he was three sheets to the wind with no sense of sobriety in sight. It was also the only explanation for why in the next ten minutes, he’d take two more shots Dustin shoved in his hand, cheer along to five more toasts, and seriously consider throwing up in another man’s hat before finally finding a loosely termed quiet corner, and call El.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up? Having any fun?” She laughed through the phone when she answered. He could hear loud music and even more cheering on her end, her and Max out with Nancy and a couple of other people for a party of their own.

“Oh lots of it, you know I am,” he slurred, although to him he thought it was entirely coherent. “What about you? Are you having fun? I hope you’re having fun. You should always have fun,” he continued, drunkenly rambling.

He could hear her laughter and it filled him with a sudden bubble of surprise and light. Every time she laughed he couldn’t help but grin in response to it, no matter what was going on. He could be talking to someone across the room from her and if she laughed, he would immediately smile, not able to control it.

“Oh, my gosh, are you drunk?” She asked, laughing again, and his grin spread even wider.

“Maybe,” he giggled.

“Oh, Mike, someone’s buying us all a round. Go keep having fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow? I lo-”

“Wait, no. I- I actually had a reason for calling you!” He practically shouted.

“Well make it quick. I think we’re heading somewhere else after this. Max thinks it’s too stuffy or whatever.” There was that laugh again. He could just picture her rolling her eyes at their friend who was always so picky about when and where they did anything.

His heart swelled and he felt tears coming pooling in his eyes, embarrassingly enough. Mike hardly ever drank but when he did, he had a tendency to let his emotions spill out and it always resulted him crying. Hence the lack of drinking.

But this was something he had been meaning to get off of his chest for a while. He thought he might explode right now in this very seat if he didn’t say it soon. So, clutching the velvet box that had taken up what seemed to be a permanent residence in his pocket for the last year, he took a breath and dove straight into it.

“I love you okay? I know you know that I and I know I know that and I know everyone knows that but I have to start this off with that. I love you. I love your eyes and your smile and your hair and your laugh and how strong you are and your perseverance and how big your heart is and how much you just love people and things despite all of the shit that happened to you. I think I’ve loved you since that first night I saw you. It’s always been you, El. And I just…I just…I’ve been so worried that you haven’t had enough time or- or enough experiences to make up for everything you had to go through. But I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I’ve been trying to find the right time and the right way and then Lucas beat me to it which I never thought would happen - I mean I’m happy for him, y’know? He’s my best friend. They both are. And I wouldn’t want this for anyone else, honestly but-”

“Mike. Is there a point to all of this? Max is getting antsy,” El said apologetically. Another thing he loved about her. She was trying to have fun and celebrate something special with her friends, but she would never want him to feel like she didn’t want to hear everything he had to say.

“Yeah, no, I’m sorry, there- there definitely is. Okay, so…where was I?”

“Mike…”

“Right! Right. I love you. You know that. I feel like I don’t say it enough though.” Ridiculous thinking since he said it at least fifteen times in the span of half an hour whether they he was saying it to her specifically or not. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to ask you this for almost a year now, but I don’t want you to feel pressured or like I’m trying to rush you in to anything but I can’t keep carrying this ring around anymore cause I think the box is starting to wear down and also, I’m gonna end up losing it if you don’t find it first and -”

“What? What do you mean a ring? Mike! Honestly, you have to focus for just a few moments, please,” she begged. He could hear the happiness and also a little bit of fear - fear that she was thinking too much of it - in her voice.

“Dammit, El, I’m trying to propose to you! Don’t you think Max could hold on for like…like…like two minutes?!” He was getting antsy now and he just was so close to finally finishing this.

He heard some shuffling around on the other end and pulled the phone away to avoid the white noise coming through. “Michael Wheeler,” he heard a new voice shout on the other end, and he quickly put the phone back to his ear. “I am celebrating my bachelorette party and you are keeping my maid of honor from me! Can’t you keep your lovesick self in check for more than two hours? Just this once I’m asking you to not be a mushy mess, okay? Now. I’m gonna hand you back to El. You are allowed to exchange very quick ‘I love you’s’ and then you are done until tomorrow.” Mike hung his head, trying to wrap his mind around everything that was happening, including the suddenly spinning room. “Also, tell Lucas I love him,” he heard her mutter before handing the phone back.

“I’m really sorry, Mike. This is just gonna have to wait till later,” El apologized, disappointment in her voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered out, and then they hung up.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get the nerve back up to finish that conversation, but in a bar just a few short miles away, El knew - she knew - that Mike wanted to ask her a really important question that she had been waiting for for a long time, and dammit, she wasn’t going to let him forget it, drunk or not.

#this was fun honestly #I spent maybe too much time trying to come up with an actual content #but I think I like this one #let me know what you think #strange-thangs #cause Ross basically always has my back #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #mileven #mike x eleven #mileven fanfic #mileven fic #mine #I write things #prompts

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bethlehembroclub-blog · 7 years ago

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chapter 3 - everyone’s dancing merrily

written by @sweatereddies and @gingerbreddie

word count: 5.3k

pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly

warnings: swearing, drug/alcohol use, dwayne the rock johnson in a santa suit

want on the tagslist?

new chapters almost every day in december, follow us for future updates!

“Come on you guys, we’re gonna be late!” Ben called up the stairs, as he adjusted his watch clasp.

“I’m trying, Eddie’s hogging the bathroom!” Stan yelled back. He heard the faint sound of Eddie’s quipped protests and rolled his eyes.

“I’m leaving in five minutes!” He responded, walking into the kitchen to grab the case of beer they had bought. Bev hadn’t said it was specifically a BYOB party, but Ben felt bad bringing four people and no booze.

Stan came tumbling down the stairs. “Fuck it, do I look okay?” He gestured down at his outfit, a rather complimentary blue shirt and his nicer jeans.

“Yeah, you look fine.” Ben said after a cursory glance. His brow furrowed, looking back at Stan. “Why? You never care.”

Stan looked around, clearly planning an excuse. “I don’t know, okay? I just wanted to…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben smiled. “You don’t have to make shit up. I know you wanna impress someone. Question is, who’s gonna be there that you care so much about?” Ben said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Stan’s face flushed. “No one, Haystack.”

“Alright, fine, I won’t press.” He threw his hands up. “But whoever it is does need my official Bro Approval, so tell me soon, yeah?”

Stan laughed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Guys, have you seen my inhaler?” Eddie said, leaning over the landing on the stairs.

“You don’t have asthma, Eddie.” Stan deadpanned.

“Fuck you Uris, I’ve got something, I need it.”

“You haven’t needed it since seventh grade.” Ben said plainly. “Are you that nervous?”

Eddie fumbled with the hem of his shirt, glancing between the two boys. “Um..”

“You’ll feel a lot better once you have one of these in you.” Ben smirked, tearing open the box of beer and tossing a can to Eddie, who surprisingly caught it. “But seriously, if you don’t want to stay you don’t have to. They’re our neighbors, you can go home.”

Eddie eyed the can in his hands. “I don’t want to be too scared to go to a fucking dumb party.” Eddie muttered quietly.

“Then show up and smash the thing, man. Let loose, you deserve it.” Stan said.

Eddie cracked the tab on the beer, taking a swig. “I’ll go.” He said after he swallowed. “But I don’t know if I’ll have fun.”

“I think you will.” Ben supplied. “Like I said, Mike Hanlon knows how to throw a fucking party.”

Eddie sighed, taking another deep drink. “Jesus Christ.” He cringed at the taste. “Okay. Well the only way I’m gonna have an even mildly good time is if I have at least half this damn case to myself.”

“Done.” Ben laughed. “But that means you have to carry it over.”

Eddie finished the last few steps of the stairs and the last of the liquid in the can. He tossed it in their recycling as he passed it, and then lifted the case up. “Let’s go, then?”

______________________________________________________________

After locking up behind them (the three were the only ones left in the house after Chris had left that morning) the boys set off down the street, Eddie carting the case of beer under his arm. He huffed a bit under the weight of it, but kept thinking to himself about how light it would be once he's done with it.

Even from their vantage point, a good few houses away, they could hear the pounding music. It sounded like someone had put a Christmas song through some kind of alien machine, making it come out garbled and remixed in classic electronica fashion. Eddie scrunched up his nose; he hated nothing more than a shitty remix.

Stan kept his hands in his pockets, the crisp late November air nipping at his fingertips. He was grateful for the short walk.

The house in question looked like his store threw up on it. He even recognized the the giant light fixture of the leg lamp from A Christmas Story from when he’d seen it on their website earlier. He snorted at the sight, rolling his eyes at the tackiness of the entire yard. They'd certainly gone all out on the decorations; icicle lights hung loosely from the roof, where an old couch was perched, a fake santa with a beer in his hand balanced haphazardly on it. The yard was already littered with loose cans and cups, though Stan had a suspicion that they were already there before the party.

“Is- is that a couch?” Eddie faked a wretch, eyes laid skeptically on the santa.

“I do believe it is.” Ben said with a laugh. He found the whole display quite clever.

“I'm having second thoughts.”

“Don't think.” Stan said, stealing a can of beer from the box clutched in Eddie’s arms. “Drink.” Stan opened it and took a swig.

“I hate when you're right.” Eddie griped, reaching into the box for another can as they climbed the steps to the door.

Ben grabbed the handle and pushed it open, revealing an entryway stuffed with discarded outerwear. Beyond the room there was a hallway already filled with people milling around, and openings on either side to continue on into the house. Eddie swallowed nervously.

Ben glanced down at his phone as it buzzed in his hands. A text from Beverly read: hey, im here, where are u?

“I'm gonna go find Bev and grab some real drinks, wanna come with?” Ben said to the boys.

“No way. I’m staying right here.” Eddie said nervously, holding the case close to his chest. “I don't wanna get lost in there.”

“Fine, I'll be right back.” Ben rolled his eyes and left into the swarm of the house. Stan made to follow him but was stopped by Eddie’s arm.

“Don't leave me here.” Eddie squeaked, giving Stan a pleading look.

Stan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Eddie, I’m not gonna hang around in the doorway all night. Unlike you I came here to have fun.”

Eddie gulped. “Fine.” He said after a pause. “But I’m parking on the first couch we see.”

Stan smiled and dragged Eddie off to the right, the opposite of where Ben had gone.

______________________________________________________________

Richie Tozier was not having a good night. Sure the party had started out as planned; all the decorations had gone up the way they wanted them to, and everything was in its place. Booze was flowing, people were partying, and by all intents and purposes, accounts and definitions, they had the best holiday party on the block. But every bit of it was unsatisfying. They’d already prepared for Christmas, decked in every single bit of tinsel they could possibly get their grimy paws on. They were ready to start the first weekend of the holidays with a bang proclaiming to everyone in the community that they were there to play this year. A preliminary to their holiday bash, they took special care in setting up excitement for future drinking games. They had posters with the rules written on them hastily tacked up on the walls so people could read them, become familiar with them, and laugh egregiously at them before the destined date. But as Richie passed them walking through the house, red solo cup in hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disdain. What fun was a good drinking game if you didn’t have someone special to share it with? He knew he was being sappy; it was a ridiculous thought. But it was important to him to start really expanding his friend base. He’d been so close with Mike and Bill for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to branch out beyond that. All of his other relationships were incredibly superficial. Almost anyone in his life was there because of a connection, or for business purposes. He found himself longing for companionship, for the first time in a long time, and it kind of freaked him out. He wasn’t looking for love, at least he thought he wasn’t, until earlier that day he’d gone out with Mike and Bill to grab supplies, and ran into the beautiful boy from across the way. It was frightening though, because he’d realized he’d put his foot in his mouth and overly flirted the first time he’d seen the boy. He did call Richie an asshole first, though.

Richie knew that his chances with the boy were probably slim. But he was supposed to be at the party, and maybe that was why Richie was feeling so listless. He’d seen nothing of Ben Hanscom, or curly haired Stan, or the beautiful brunette he’d been so excited to see tonight, and that was really the reason for the sinking pit in his stomach. He’d gotten his hopes up way too much that morning, out buying decorations and filling up the back of Mike’s truck with the boys. He’d been thinking all day about the look on Eddie’s face when he saw their tacky santa on the roof, or his particular favorite of the drinking games, one themed after Spider-man. He then realized he was unsure of what Eddie’s reaction would even be. How could he possibly gauge what the boy would say in response to their tacky christmas decorations? Eddie has been displeased with his terrible James Bond reference, and probably wouldn't enjoy the many allusions to Tom Holland’s voice cracks in the aforementioned game. But part of him hoped that Eddie secretly had a side to him that would enjoy these sillier things. He’d heard through the grapevine, aka Mike and Ben, that Eddie really had a fun side to him, especially when he was drunk, which was why Richie was so excited to see him at the party. He wanted to see that side of Eddie set loose. But how could he do that if Eddie wasn't there? These thoughts swirled around him as he sat on the couch in between Mike and Bill, who were chatting with some of their friends as they set up a game of beer pong for the night. Richie clutched his cup in his hand and rested his head on his chin, boredly gazing around the room, waiting for more people to walk in. Bill elbowed his side and spoke.

“W-Whats got you so down, T-Tozier? We worked so f-fucking hard on tonight, w-w-why are you not c-celebrating with the rest of u-us?”

“I don’t know Billiam, I guess I’m just in a bad mood.”

“A bad m-mood? It’s our e-e-end of the year party, you s-should be ecstatic, no more fucking ho-homework!”

“I know, I know, I'm really excited about that and I wanna party tonight but.. I was hoping the little germaphobe would show up.”

Bill laughed, looking to Mike for assistance, but he was deep in conversation with the boys setting up the table. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Richie.

“O-Of course you are. But look, he s-said he said he w-w-was coming with Stan and Ben so j-just be patient and wait for him to show up. G-Get a few drinks in you, you’ll start feeling more excited about the whole thing.”

“Alright alright, I’ll loosen up.”

Richie stood, downing his drink in one go, preparing himself to cross over into the kitchen to grab more. But after he turned his gaze up from the empty cup in his hands, he saw none other than Eddie Kaspbrak himself walking into the living room from the entryway, Stan Uris and his curly hair by his side, a sixteen pack of beer under his right arm. One of the cans was clutched in his hand. Richie could practically see his white knuckle grip on the thing. Eddie was glancing around the room nervously, looking at the decorations, the people, the beer pong table; Stan was smiling abstractly and taking it all in, a beer in his hand as well, already open and much more loosely gripped.

Richie broke out into a grin. This was the time of night that he was really looking forward to.

______________________________________________________________

“Hey there handsome, finally decided to show up!” Bev’s singsong voice called to Ben as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey there Bevie. Finally got Eddie to get out of that house, he’s been fussing forever.”

Bev laughed, passing a cup to Ben. It was clearly a drink she’d just poured for herself, but she offered it to him anyways. “Go figure, I thought he was gonna take all night to get the courage. But you did get him here?”

Ben took a small drink of the cup she’d just supplied. “In the flesh.” He let out with a laugh.

“Good, then let’s get him ready.” She went to pour another drink.

“He’s already got his beers for the night, I think he’ll be fine in a little while. But Stan’ll probably want something.” Ben supplied

“Sounds good to me.” Bev called over her shoulder as she began to mix Stan a drink, and then a follow up one for herself.

“So is this party everything I hoped it’d be? Ben said leaning against the counter where she worked, cup in hand, taking another small sip.

“Its shaping up to be,” She smiled. “I think they're holding back just a little bit because they wanna save us all the big shit for Christmas, but as far as end of term parties go, it’s the only one on the market and it sure as hell doesn’t suck.” She smiled, taking a large sip of the drink she just mixed for herself, grimacing a little bit as it went down.

“Any plans for the evening, or is it just a mixer?”

“Well I know somebody's setting up beer pong right now, and I think we might have a tournament going on, but other than that, I think just a quick few samples of the drinking games that are planned for the bashes coming up.”

“Yeah, I saw the posters.” Ben laughed

“Apparently the boys are trying to get the buzz around and tell people to prepare themselves for ones they have planned. I heard they're gonna do sort of uh.. Run up style parties, every other day over the break.”

“Holy shit, that’s ambitious.” Ben said after taking another drink.

Bev smirked behind her cup. “You're telling me.”

The two drank a little bit in awkward silence before Ben decided to speak up. “I'm gonna go take Stan his drink, okay?”

Bev gave him a strange look, before reaching down to interlock her fingers with his. “I'll come with you. We’re at this party together, right?”

He smiled to himself, a small blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

______________________________________________________________

Stan had never been one to understand Christmas traditions. The whole holiday was incredibly pointless to him. Being of a rather devout Jewish family, he’d always celebrated Hanukkah and followed their traditions, leaving Christmas to the crazies at the country club. But after working a couple years in retail and attending enough Christmas parties, he was aware enough of the holiday-esque things that many associated with the season. He knew about the tinsel, he knew about the lights, he knew about the trees, although none of it made any fucking sense, he knew about it. Just like anyone who grew up in anglo saxon America he could look at any Christmas item and think ah yes, that is in fact related to the holidays. What he couldn't fathom however was what a giant cardboard cutout of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in a santa outfit had anything to do with Christmas (other than the red and white suit of course). Yet here it was, in the corner of the living room that he had just walked into, surrounded by its own strings of christmas lights, tinsel strewn around it and the floor in front of it, appearing as though it at just been thrown at the poster itself. He chuckled to himself a little bit; he had to admit the decorations were pretty hilarious, and anyone who was drunk of their ass and looking for a laugh at two in the morning would find them quite entertaining. But as far as a party went? This was what qualified for the best party in all of college town? Stan scoffed. He knew how to throw a fucking party. It wasn't just about getting drunk, though he had been prompting Eddie all day that it was. He knew better. Parties weren't just about drinking. Drinking was the cherry on top. Ambiance was what you had to go for. Put together decorations, that actually took effort, and looked nice when you were finished with them, incredibly clever and well thought out games, different activities for everybody to do while they were drunk, now that was how you threw a party. And this living room where half the patrons were milling around or sitting and waiting for the beer pong table to be set up, Stan knew this was not anywhere close to a satisfactory party. His own self sense of pride inflated him, and he took another drink of the beer before his eyes landed on Richie Tozier, and his two friends from earlier, who were gathered on the couch as the table was being set up.

Richie was staring at Stan and Eddie like they’d just brought the sun. A huge smile was painted across his face, the empty cup he was holding falling from his hand as he eyed them. Stan knew the smile wasn't for him; he could tell from their interaction earlier that day that Richie had become instantly infatuated with Eddie, something which he thought was endlessly hilarious; way funnier than the cardboard cut out of The Rock in the corner. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to gauge Eddie's reaction and was not disappointed. The poor boy looked like he’d short circuited. Clearly Eddie was planning on avoiding Richie as much as possible at the party, and the first person he ran into was none other than the boy himself. Stan laughed a little at the situation, until he noticed Richie's brooding friend emerging from the couch to come join them as well. He took a moment to size up the boy again to get a better grasp on him than what he had from their interaction earlier. He still thought the boy reminded him of a vampire. He was absurdly pale and seemed to look like he never got any sleep, probably from all the partying. Contrary to his appearance in the harsh light of day, under the soft multi color glow of the Christmas lights his face held a sort of gentle kindness to it. Stan found himself a little bit mesmerized taking in the sight. As the boy walked over to them, he could hear Eddie's faint stammering as his brain tried to catch up with his eyes, but he offered no assistance to the conversation, instead deciding to pretend like he was studying a poster on the walls over the shoulder of the boy who'd introduced himself as.. Will? He couldn't remember. Richie broke the silence first.

“There you are pretty boy, I was hoping you would show up!” He threw his arms out and made an awkward gesture, as if he was going to hug Eddie, and then seemingly remembered that the boy abhorred strangers touch. Eddie groaned and turned to Stan.

“You know what Stan, actually, I just remembered that I left the oven on, so I need to go home right now immediately.” Stan threw Eddie into a headlock.

“Fat chance, Kaspbrak, you’re in for the night.” The smaller of the two boys across from them laughed..

“Whatta good f-friend you are, Stan.”

Stan laughed a little bit to himself. “If Ben's gonna be running off all night with Beverly, I need my party buddy here too. So Eddie is not allowed to go home.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Sorry Stan, but I'm gonna have to officially claim him as my party buddy. See, I threw this whole shindig here for Mr. Kaspbrak.” He cocked an elbow, resting a hand on his hip.

Eddie blanched. “You did what?”

Richie and Bill both laughed. “N-No you fucking d-didn't Tozier, don't be a shit.”

“You can't prove anything Billiam.” Richie said through his giggle. “Anyways Eddie, I'd really like to spend some quality time with you.” He wiggled an eyebrow.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’d like to spend some quality time with your couch, which is where you will find me the remainder of the evening.” With that he pushed his way through the two boys in front of him, entire case of beer still in his hands, and sat down on the corner of the couch that Richie and Bill had just vacated. He sat with the whole case in his lap, it practically dwarfing him, and his single unopened beer can still in his hands. He took a moment to look down at it, almost ceremoniously, before cracking it open and drinking the whole thing in one fell swoop. Richie watched him in awe, jaw dropping slightly open.

“Holy shit.” he whispered to himself. Bill clapped him on the back.

“You pick em fine, Tozier.” He laughed before turning to Stan. “C’mon Uris, I'll t-take you to the kitchen a-and show you the lineup we’ve got for tonight.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so I see all of the effort today went to the booze selection.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot up in response. “E-Excuse me? All o-o-of the effort?”

Stan laughed to himself. “Yeah, I mean it's not like you guys went hard on decorations or anything.”

Richie had already left them behind to go pester Eddie on the couch, leaving Bill without a paddle. He glared at Stan a little bit. “I-I’ll have you know it took us a-a good hour and a-a-a half to get s-santa on the roof, couch a-and everything.”

Stan snorted. “If you ask me it's an hour and a half you could've spent working a little bit harder on the inside of the house. But that's just my opinion.” He shrugged a shoulder and turned towards the kitchen, Bill following.

“Our decorations are lit, Uris. Y-You're just jealous cause you're n-not having a p-p-party at your frat.”

Stan laughed as the boy followed him. “Oh trust me, I am glad this is not happening at my house. The cleanup? Can you imagine?”

Bill crossed his arms as they reached the counter, Stan surveying it to find a drink.

“I can i-imagine, I clean up after every p-party we have here.”

“Well by the looks of the cups on the lawn you didn't do a very good job last time.”

Bill gasped slightly, offended. “T-Those were there when you g-got here cause the p-p-party already started!”

Stan laughed as he poured himself a rum and coke. “Yeah, and they were also there when we ran into you this morning outside. So, try again. Bill was, it?” He said over his cup, turning around to lean against the counter as he took a sip of his drink. Bill's face was flushed red, his competitive side clearly coming out, uninhibited by his usual social graces as he was already a good few drinks in.

“Is that a challenge, Uris?”

Stan shrugged again. “I wouldn't know.”

Bill frowned, taking a moment to think over the statement. It was a little bit too advanced for his drunk brain to handle.

“Stan, there you are!” Ben said, rounding a corner from the other way into the kitchen. “We were just looking for you, Bev made you a drink.”

“Oh sweet, thanks, I’ll have it after I finish this one.” Stan said genially, turning to Ben and Bev who had just entered the room.

“Bill, hey, what's up?” Bev called to the other boy, who was still standing with his face red and his arms crossed.

“Hi Bev.” He muttered, perturbed.

“Not having a good time at your own party?” Bev tried, jokingly, but clearly Bill wasn't in the mood. He just continued staring at Stan, who was busy filling Ben in on what had just went down with Eddie and Richie. Ben was laughing, Bev was watching him laugh, Stan was laughing, Bill was watching him laugh, and the whole thing was too much for Denbrough. He took a second to pour himself a drink before exiting the room.

______________________________________________________________

After about two minutes of being met with nothing but short one word answers to all of his questions, Richie grew a little bit bored of pestering Eddie. He knew he needed another drink, and Eddie had swatted his hand away when he tried to steal one of the beers. So he decided to give it a moment and go get another margarita. Sighing to himself, he went into the kitchen, which was thankfully empty. He poured himself something strong. He downed the whole thing, and then poured another. This he would sip on the couch with Eddie, hopefully at some point having some kind of real conversation. He couldn't figure out quite why it was that Eddie so desperately disliked him. But he had a feeling that the negative behavior was mostly coming from the fact that Eddie didn't look look like a party boy. He seemed to be thoroughly not enjoying himself, the sweaty bodies and spilled drinks all around him, the general messiness of Richie's house (which he could admit was worse than he would have liked). All of it was probably too much for a guy who wouldn't even wanna shake hands with someone. He figured that the more beers Eddie got down, (who seemed to be drinking them out of sheer nervousness, with no thought for how many he'd gone through already) that he would be more loose and willing to at least initiate conversation. Richie knew somewhere deep in the back of his mind that he was definitely looking for a hookup. He hadn't had a good fuck in months, and Eddie was beautiful. But he also knew that unless physical contact was initiated but the other boy he wouldn't even try with it. What he really wanted to break tonight was their barrier just as people. He wanted to at least get them onto a friend basis so he could continue to see the boy and talk to him. But this wouldn't happen if Eddie completely refused to carry a conversation. So his goal was clear; get Eddie drunk and get him to talk. With this in mind he went back into the living room. Eddie meanwhile had sat on the couch, praying and begging that Richie would get dragged off by someone who wanted to play some stupid drinking game with him. He started in on his third beer, silently hoping to himself that Richie would just leave him alone. Mike Hanlon was still in the room, beer pong game finally set up, and was currently refereeing for the two boys who were facing off. Eddie watched him absentmindedly in between drinks. Mike seemed like a nice enough guy; he had Ben’s approval and really didn't act too much like he was hot shit. Eddie could see having a good relationship with him, friendship wise, of course. But he didn't really know where else they'd run into each other rather than party scenes. Perhaps they could invite the other three frat boys over to their friendsgiving. The fleeting thought surprised Eddie; he wasn't usually one to try and reach out to new people. He’d had too many instances of getting scorned by someone who turned out to be just looking for a quick hookup or totally uninterested in any kind of friendship relationship. He was content with the friends that he had, and he knew that if he made any more it would be because they came into their friend group, not vise versa. Although he had a sneaking suspicion, and fear, that that was what was occurring as the minutes grew on. He knew for a fact that Ben was enjoying himself, and he knew Stan was gonna have a great night, which only meant one thing. His friends were getting sucked in, and they were going to very much continue going to the dumb Omega Nu parties, which meant Eddie would be constantly dragged along with them. He sighed, finishing off his can. It was gonna be a long night for sure. Just as he was sitting and steeping in his despondence, Richie came back over to him.

“Didn’t miss me too much, didya Eddie?” Richie joked as he settled in next to him, a little too close for Eddie’s taste but at this point he was really getting tired of trying to push the boy away.

“Not even a little bit.” He griped, cracking open his fourth can.

Richie laughed at him. “Jesus Eds, planning on drinking that whole thing yourself tonight?”

Eddie gave him a side-eyed look. Did this fucker just give me a nickname? A really shitty one at that?

“My name isn’t fucking Eds.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” Richie laughed to himself. He took a moment to take a drink out of his cup as well. Eddie pondered for a bit about what was in it, but decided it was better not to know. He was just fine with beer and he didn’t wanna fuck with anything stronger. Richie suddenly seemed to loosen up a little bit, but not in a way of relaxation, but rather kind of the opposite. It was like he was untightening the reigns that he had on his casual appearance.

“.. I know we started off on the wrong foot, but I’m really not as big of an asshole as I’m coming across.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Really. I’m having a difficult time believing that.”

“I’m serious! If you’d just take some time to get to know me, I’m sure you’d actually start to like me.” He smirked.

Eddie blanched a little bit at his forwardness. Unsure of what to say, he just closed his mouth and let Richie continue speaking.

“Unless you’d rather sit here by yourself moping around all night, while all your friends are off having fun.”

Eddie looked between the boy with the glasses and the beer can in his hand, taking a moment to mull over his decisions.

“Well, suit yourself then.” Richie got up as if to leave.

He supplied his thoughts with another wash of beer.

“You know what? Fine.”

Eddie knew one thing; he wasn’t fucking drunk enough for this.

______________________________________________________________

The porch light was still flickering, Bev noticed. She’d been here about two months ago for a party and came outside for a smoke and realized that their back porch light was probably in the process of going out. Every once in awhile it would flicker, signaling that it was running low on energy. She stared at it now absentmindedly as she quickly smoked her cigarette, trying to get it out of the way for the evening. She knew she could survive on one, especially if she was drinking, but it had been a few hours since her last one and she was getting a little antsy. Ben and Stan kindly agreed to go outside with her, though stood a little ways apart and upwind. The three of them carried on small talk well enough; she felt comfortable with the two boys and a little buzz going. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Stan kept making cracks about the decor, Ben continuing to make jokes with him about Eddie's experiences inside, and all three of them were having a great time discussing a terrible professor they shared their freshman year. It was shaping up to be a great evening, and Bev was truly enjoying herself.

______________________________________________________________

authors notes: the drinking game mentioned? take a shot every time tom’s voice cracks in spiderman homecoming. try it. i dare u.

tagslist: @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @flickerflies @beepbeep-losers @tapetayloe @gazeboseddie @finnwollfhards @lemonadeandrice @i-is-gazebo @turtleneckrichie @reddieaddict @liznielsen19

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gaysparklepires · 7 years ago

Text

1. First Sight

Read on AO3

This was the time of day when I wished I were able to sleep.

High school.

Or was purgatory the right word? If there was any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.

I suppose this was my form of sleep—if sleep was defined as the inert state between active periods.

I stared at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns into them that were not there. It was one way to tune out the voices that babbled like the gush of a river inside my head.

Several hundred of these voices I ignored out of boredom.

When it came to the human mind, I’d heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body here. It took so little to work them all up. I’d seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Just an ordinary human boy. The excitement over his arrival was tiresomely predictable—like flashing a shiny object at a child. Half the females were already imagining themselves in love with him, just because he was something new to look at. I tried harder to tune them out.

Only four voices did I block out of courtesy rather than distaste; my family, my three brothers and one sister, who were so used to the lack of privacy in my presence that they rarely gave it a thought. I gave them what privacy I could. I tried not to listen if I could help it.

Try as I may, still… I knew.

Royal was thinking, as usual, about himself. He’d caught sight of his profile in the reflection of someone’s glasses, and he was mulling over his own perfection. Royal’s mind was a shallow pool with few surprises.

Emmett was fuming over a wrestling match he’d lost to Jasper during the night. It would take all his limited patience to make it to the end of the school day to orchestrate a rematch. I never really felt intrusive hearing Emmett’s thoughts, because he never thought one thing that he would not say aloud or put into action. Perhaps I only felt guilty reading the others’ minds because I knew there were things there that they wouldn’t want me to know. If Royal’s mind was a shallow pool, then Emmett’s was a lake with no shadows, glass clear.

And Jasper was…suffering. I suppressed a sigh.

Edward. Alice called my name in her head, and had my attention at once.

It was just the same as having my name called aloud. I was glad my given name had fallen out of style lately—it had been annoying; anytime anyone thought of any Edward, my head would turn automatically…

My head didn’t turn now. Alice and I were good at these private conversations. It was rare than anyone caught us. I kept my eyes on the lines in the plaster.

How is he holding up? She asked me.

I frowned, just a small change in the set of my mouth. Nothing that would tip the others off. I could easily be frowning out of boredom.

Alice’s mental tone was alarmed now, and I saw in her mind that she was watching Jasper in her peripheral vision.

Is there any danger? She searched ahead, into the immediate future, skimming through visions of monotony for the source behind my frown.

I turned my head slowly to the left, as if looking at the bricks of the wall, sighed, and then to the right, back to the cracks in the ceiling. Only Alice knew I was shaking my head.

She relaxed. Let me know if it gets too bad.

I moved only my eyes, up to the ceiling above, and back down.

Thanks for doing this.

I was glad I couldn’t answer her aloud. What would I say? ‘My pleasure’? It was hardly that. I didn’t enjoy listening to Jasper’s struggles. Was it really necessary to experiment like this? Wouldn’t the safer path be to just admit that he might never be able to handle the thirst the way the rest of us could, and not push his limits? Why flirt with disaster?

It had been two weeks since our last hunting trip. That was not an immensely difficult time span for the rest of us. A little uncomfortable occasionally—if a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious minds would never understand; we were dangerous.

Jasper was very dangerous right now.

At that moment, a small girl paused at the end of the closest table to ours, stopping to talk to a friend. She tossed her short, sandy hair, running her fingers through it. The heaters blew her scent in our direction. I was used to the way that scent made me feel—the dry ache in my throat, the hollow yearn in my stomach, the automatic tightening of my muscles, the excess flow of venom in my mouth…

This was quite normal, usually easy to ignore. It was harder just now, with the feelings stronger, doubled, as I monitored Jasper’s reaction. Twin thirsts, rather than just mine.

Jasper was letting his imagination get away from him. He was picturing it—picturing himself getting up from his seat next to Alice and going to stand beside the little girl. Thinking of leaning down and in, as if he were going to whisper in her ear, and letting his lips touch the arch of her throat. Imagining how the hot flow of her pulse beneath the fine skin would feel under his mouth…

I kicked his chair.

He met my gaze for a minute, and then looked down. I could hear shame and rebellion war in his head.

“Sorry,” Jasper muttered.

I shrugged.

“You weren’t going to do anything,” Alice murmured to him, soothing his chagrin. “I could see that.”

I fought back the grimace that would give her lie away. We had to stick together, Alice and me. It wasn’t easy, hearing voices or seeing visions of the future. Both freaks among those who were already freaks. We protected each other’s secrets.

“It helps a little if you think of them as people,” Alice suggested, her high, musical voice too fast for human hears to understand, if any had been close enough to hear. “Her name is Whitney. She had a baby sister she adores. Her mother invited Esme to that garden party, do you remember?”

“I know who she is,” Jasper said curtly. He turned away to stare out one of the small windows that were spaced just under the eaves around the long room. His tone ended the conversation.

He would have to hunt tonight. It was ridiculous to take risks like this, trying to test his strength, to build his endurance. Jasper should just accept his limitations and work within them. His former habits were not conducive to our chosen lifestyle; he shouldn’t push himself this way.

Alice sighed silently and stood, taking her tray of food—her prop, as it were—with her and leaving him alone. She knew when he’d had enough of her encouragement. Though Royal and Emmett were more flagrant about their relationship, it was Alice and Jasper who knew each other’s every mood as well as their own. As if they could read minds, too—only just each other’s.

Edward Cullen.

Reflex reaction. I turned to the sound of my name being called, though it wasn’t being called, just thought.

My eyes locked for a small portion of a second with a pair of wide, silver-gray human eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face. I knew the face, though I’d never seen it myself before this moment. It had been foremost in every human head today. The new student, Beauregard Swan. Son of the town’s chief of police, brought to live here by some new custody situation. Beau. He’d corrected everyone who’d used his full name…

I looked away, bored. It took me a second to realize that he had not been the one to think my name.

Not surprising he’s asking about the Cullens, I heard the first thought continue.

Now I recognized the ‘voice.’ Jessica Stanley—it had been a while since she had bothered me with her internal chatter. What a relief it had been when she’d gotten over her misplaced infatuation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams. I’d wished, at the time, that I could explain to her exactly what would have happened if my lips, and the teeth behind them, had gotten anywhere near her. That would have silenced those annoying fantasies. The thought of her reaction almost made me smile.

I wonder if he’s… I guess I can’t just ask him, Jessica went on. He’s really cute. I’m not surprised Erica’s been staring at him so much. He’s definitely cuter than Mike.

She winced mentally on the last name. Her new infatuation, the generically popular Mike Newton, was completely oblivious to her. However, he was not as oblivious to the new boy. Poor girl, she has no idea. Despite Jessica’s preoccupation with the Newton boy, she was animatedly speaking to the newcomer, explaining to him the commonly held knowledge about my family. The new student must have asked about us.

He’s so quiet! He’s hardly talking to anyone other than me, Jessica was thinking, maybe Mike will want to ask me what he’s li—“

I tried to block the inane chatter out of my head before the trivial mundanity could drive me mad.

“Jessica Stanley is giving the new Swan boy all the dirty laundry on the Cullen clan,” I murmured to Emmett as a distraction.

He chuckled under his breath. I hope she’s making it good, he thought.

“Rather unimaginative, actually. Just the barest hint of scandal. Not an ounce of horror. I’m a little disappointed.”

And the new boy? Is he disappointed in the gossip as well?

I listened to hear what this new boy, Beau, thought of Jessica’s story. What did he see when he looked at the strange, chalky-skinned family that was universally avoided.

It was sort of my responsibility to know his reaction. I acted as a lookout, for lack of a better word, for my family. To protect us. If anyone ever grew suspicious, I could give us an early warning and an easy retreat. It happened occasionally—some human with an active imagination would see in us the characters of a book or a movie. Usually they got it wrong, but it was better to move on somewhere new than risk scrutiny.

Very, very rarely, someone would guess right. We didn’t give them a chance to test their hypothesis. We simply disappeared, to become no more than a frightening memory…

I heard nothing, though I listened close beside where Jessica’s frivolous internal monologue continued to gush. It was as if there was no one sitting beside her. How peculiar, had the boy moved? That didn’t seem likely, as Jessica was still babbling to him. I looked up to check, feeling off-balance. Checking on what my extra ‘hearing’ couldn’t tell me—it wasn’t something I ever had to do.

Again, my gaze locked on those same wide gray eyes. He was sitting right where he had been before, and looking at us, a natural thing to be doing, I supposed, as Jessica was still regaling him with the local gossip about the Cullens.

Thinking about us, too, would be natural.

But I couldn’t hear a whisper.

Inviting warm red stained his cheeks as he looked down, away from the embarrassing gaffe of getting caught staring at a stranger. It was good that Jasper was still gazing out the window. I didn’t like to imagine what that easy pooling of blood would do to his control.

The emotions had been as clear on the new boy’s face as if they were spelled out in words across his forehead; surprise, as he unknowingly absorbed the signs of the subtle differences between his kind and mine, curiosity, as he listened to Jessica’s tale, and something more… fascination? It wouldn’t be the first time. We were beautiful to them, our intended prey. Then, finally, embarrassment as I caught him staring at me.

And yet, though his thoughts had been so clear in his odd eyes—odd, because of the warmth and softness to them; gray eyes often seemed cold and hard to me—I could hear nothing but silence from the place he was sitting. Nothing at all.

I felt a moment of unease.

This was nothing I’d ever encountered before. Was there something wrong with me? I felt exactly the same as I always did. Worried, I listened harder.

All the voices I’d been blocking were suddenly shouting in my head.

…wonder what music he likes…maybe I could mention that new CD… Mike Newton was thinking, two tables away—fixated on Beau Swan.

Look at Edward staring at him. Isn’t it enough that half the students in school are waiting for him to… Erica Yorkie was thinking sulfurous thoughts, also revolving around the boy.

…So disgusting. You’d think he was famous or something… Even Edward Cullen, staring… Logan Mallory was so jealous that his face, by all rights, should be dark jade in color. And Jessica, flaunting her new best friend. What a joke… Vitriol continued to spew from the boy’s thoughts.

…I bet everyone has asked him that. But I’d like to talk to him. I’ll think of a more original question… Lauren Mallory, Logan’s twin sister, mused.

…Maybe he’ll be in my Spanish… Ashley Dowling hoped.

…tons left to do tonight! Trig, and the English test. I hope my mom… Angela Weber, a quiet girl, whose thoughts were unusually kind, was the only one at the table who wasn’t obsessed with this Beau.

I could hear them all, hear every insignificant thing they were thinking as it passed through their minds. But nothing at all from the new student with the deceptively communicative eyes.

And, of course, I could hear what the boy said when he spoke to Jessica. I didn’t have to read minds to be able to hear his low, clear voice on the far side of the room.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?” I heard him ask, sneaking a look at me from the corner of his eyes, only to look quickly away when he saw that I was still staring.

If I’d had time to hope that hearing the sound of his voice would help me pinpoint the tone of his thoughts, lost somewhere I couldn’t access them, I was instantly disappointed. Usually, people’s thoughts came to them in a similar pitch as their physical voices. But this quiet, shy voice was unfamiliar, not one of the hundreds of thoughts bouncing around the room, I was sure of that. Entirely new.

I knew he liked boys! Jessica thought before answering the new student’s question. “That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently no one here is good-looking enough for him.” She sniffed.

I turned my head away to hide my smile. Jessica and her classmates had no idea how lucky they were that none of them particularly appealed to me.

Beneath the transient humor, I felt a strange impulse, one I did not clearly understand. It had something to do with the predatory nature of the thoughts swirling around this Beau Swan—so many of the students wanted to impose their way into his life. I felt the strangest urge to step in, to shield this Beau from the selfish workings of his classmates’ minds. What an odd thing to feel. Trying to ferret out the motivations behind impulse, I examined the new boy one more time.

Perhaps it was just some long buried protective instinct—the strong for the weak. This boy looked more fragile than his new classmates. His skin was so translucent it was hard to believe it offered him much defense from the outside world. I could see the rhythmic pulse of blood through his veins under the clear, pale membrane… But I should not concentrate on that. I was good at this life I’d chosen, but I was just as thirsty as Jasper and there was no point in inviting temptation.

There was a faint crease between Beau’s dark eyebrows that he seemed unaware of.

It was unbelievably frustrating! I could clearly see that it was a strain for him to sit there, to make conversation with strangers, to be the center of attention. I could sense his shyness from the way he held his shoulders, slightly hunched, as if he was expecting a rebuff at any moment. And yet I could only sense, could only see, could only imagine. There was nothing but silence from the very quiet human boy. I could hear nothing. Why?

“Shall we?” Royal murmured, interrupting my focus.

I looked away from Beau Swan with a sense of relief. I didn’t want to continue to fail at this—it irritated me. And I didn’t want to develop any interest in his hidden thoughts simply because they were hidden from me. No doubt, when I did decipher his thoughts—and I would find a way to do so—they would be just as petty and trivial as any human’s thoughts. Not worth the effort I would expend to reach them.

“So is the new one afraid of us yet?” Emmett asked, still waiting for my response to his question before.

I shrugged. He wasn’t interested enough to press for more information. Nor should I be interested.

We got up from the table and walked out of the cafeteria.

Emmett, Royal, and Jasper were pretending to be seniors; they left for their classes. I was playing a younger role than they. I headed off for my junior level biology class, preparing my mind for the tedium. It was doubtful Ms. Banner, a woman of average intelligence, would manage to pull out anything in her lecture that would surprise someone holding two graduate degrees in medicine.

In the classroom, I settled into my chair and let my books—props, again; they held nothing I didn’t already know—spill across the table. I was the only student who had a table to himself. The humans weren’t smart enough to know they feared me, but their survival instincts were enough to keep them away.

The room slowly filled as they trickled in from lunch. I leaned back in my chair and waited for the time to pass. Again, I wished I was able to sleep.

Because I’d been thinking about him, when Angela Weber escorted the new boy through the door, his name intruded on my attention.

Beau seems just as shy as me. I’ll bet today is really hard for him. I wish I could say something… but it would probably just sound stupid…

Yes! Mike Newton thought, turning in his seat to watch Angela and Beau enter.

Still, from the place where Beau Swan stood, nothing. The empty space where his thoughts should be irritated and unnerved me.

He came closer, walking down the aisle beside me to get to the teacher’s desk. Poor soul; the seat next to me was the only one available. Automatically, I cleared what would be his side of the desk, shoving my books into a pile. I doubted he would feel very comfortable there. He was in for a long semester—in this class, at least. Perhaps, though, sitting beside him, I’d be able to flush out his secrets…not that I’d ever needed close proximity before…not that I would find anything worth listening to…

Beau Swan walked into the flow of the heated hair that blew toward me from the vent.

His scent hit me like a wrecking ball, like a battering ram. There was no image violent enough to encapsulate the force of what happened to me in that moment.

In that instant, I was nothing close to the human I’d once been; no trace of the shreds of humanity I’d manage to cloak myself in remained.

I was a predator. He was my prey. There was nothing else in the whole world but that truth.

There was no room full of witnesses—they were already collateral damage in my head. The mystery of his thoughts was forgotten. His thoughts meant nothing, for he would not go on thinking them much longer.

I was a vampire, and he had the sweetest blood I’d smelled in nearly a century.

I hadn’t imagined such a scent could exist. If I’d known it did, I would have gone searching for it long ago. I would have combed the planet for him. I could imagine the taste…

Thirst burned my throat like fire. My mouth was dry and papery. The fresh flow of venom did nothing to dispel the sensation. My stomach twisted with the hunger that was an echo of the thirst. My muscles coiled to spring.

Not a full second had passed. He was still taking the same step that had put him downwind from me.

As his foot touched the ground, his eyes slid toward me, a movement he clearly meant to be stealthy. His glance met mine, and I saw myself reflected in the wide mirror of his silver eyes.

The shock of the face I saw there saved his life for a few thorny moments.

He didn’t make it easier. When he processed the expression on my face, blood flooded his cheeks again, turning his skin the most delicious color I’d ever seen. The scent was a thick haze in my brain. I could barely think through it. My thoughts raged, resisting control, incoherent.

He walked more quickly now, as if he understood the need to escape. His haste made him clumsy—he tripped and stumbled forward, almost falling into the girl seated in the front of me. Vulnerable, weak. Even more than usual for a human.

I tried to focus on the face I’d seen in his eyes, a face I recognized with revulsion. The face of the monster in me—the face I’d beaten back with decades of effort and uncompromising discipline. How easily it sprang to the surface now!

The scent swirled around me again, scattering my thoughts and nearly propelling me out of my seat.

No.

My hand gripped under the edge of the table as I tried to hold myself in my chair. The wood was not up to the task. My hand crushed through the strut and came away with a palmful of splintered pulp, leaving the shape of my fingers carved into the remaining wood.

Destroy evidence. That was a fundamental rule. I quickly pulverized the edges of the shape with my fingertips, leaving nothing but a ragged hole and a pile of shavings on the floor, which I scattered with my foot.

Destroy evidence. Collateral damage....

I knew what had to happen now. The boy would have to come sit beside me, and I would have to kill him.

The innocent bystanders in this classroom, eighteen other children and one woman, could not be allowed to leave this room, having seen what they would soon see.

I flinched at the thought of what I must do. Even at my very worst, I had never committed this kind of atrocity. I had never killed innocents, not in over nine decades. And now I planned to slaughter twenty of them at once.

The face of the monster in the mirror mocked me.

Even as part of me shuddered away from the monster, another part was planning it.

If I killed the boy first, I would have only fifteen or twenty seconds with him before the humans in the room would react. Maybe a little bit longer, if at first they did not realize what I was doing. He would not have time to scream or feel pain; I would not kill him cruelly. That much I could give this stranger with his horribly desirable blood.

But then I would have to stop them from escaping. I wouldn’t have to worry about the windows, too high up and small to provide an escape for anyone. Just the door—block that and they were trapped.

It would be slower and more difficult, trying to take them all down when they were panicked and scrambling, moving in chaos. Not impossible, but there would be much more noise. Time for lots of screaming. Someone would hear...and I’d be forced to kill even more innocents in this black hour.

And his blood would cool, while I murdered the others

The scent punished me, closing my throat with dry aching...

So the witnesses first then.

I mapped it out in my head. I was in the middle of the room, the furthest row in the back. I would take my right side first. I could snap four or five of their necks per second, I estimated. It would not be noisy. The right side would be the lucky side; they would not see me coming. Moving around the front and back up the left side, it would take me, at most, five seconds to end every life in this room.

Long enough for Beau Swan to see, briefly, what was coming for him. Long enough for him to feel fear. Long enough, maybe, if shock didn’t freeze him in place, for him to work up a scream. One soft scream that would not bring anyone running.

I took a deep breath, and the scent was a fire that raced through my veins, burning out from my chest to consume every better impulse that I was capable of.

He was just turning now. In a few seconds, he would sit down inches away from me.

The monster in my head smiled in anticipation.

Someone slammed shut a folder on my left. I didn’t look up to see which of the doomed humans it was. But the motion sent a wave of ordinary, unscented air wafting across my face.

For one short second, I was able to think clearly. In that precious second, I saw two faces in my head, side by side.

One was mine, or rather had been: the red-eyed monster that had killed so many people that I’d stop counting their numbers. Rationalized, justified murders. A killer of killers, a killer of other, less powerful monsters. It was a god complex, I acknowledged that—deciding who deserved a death sentence. It was a compromise with myself. I had fed on human blood, but only by the loosest definition. My victims were, in their various dark pastimes, barely more human than I was.

The other face was Carlisle’s.

There was no resemblance between the two faces. They were bright day and blackest night.

There was no reason for there to be a resemblance. Carlisle was not my father in the basic biological sense. We shared no common features. The similarity in our coloring was a product of what we were; every vampire had the same ice pale skin. The similarity in the color of our eyes was another matter—a reflection of a mutual choice.

And yet, though there was no basis for a resemblance, I’d imagined that my face had begun to reflect his, to an extent, in the last ninety-odd years that I had embraced his choice and followed in his steps. My features had not changed, but it seemed to me like some of his wisdom had marked my expression, that a little of his compassion could be traced in the shape of my mouth, and hints of his patience were evident on my brow.

All those tiny improvements were lost in the face of the monster. In a few moments, there would be nothing left in me that would reflect the years I’d spent with my creator, my mentor, my father in all the ways that counted. My eyes would glow red as a devil’s; all likeness would be lost forever.

In my head, Carlisle’s kind eyes did not judge me. I knew that he would forgive me for this horrible act that I would do. Because he loved me. Because he thought I was better than I was. And he would still love me, even as I now proved him wrong.

Beau Swan sat down in the chair next to me, his movements stiff and awkward— with fear?—and the scent of his blood bloomed in an inexorable cloud around me.

I would prove my father wrong about me. The misery of this fact hurt almost as much as the fire in my throat.

I leaned away from him in revulsion—revolted by the monster aching to take him.

Why did he have to come here? Why did he have to exist? Why did he have to ruin the little peace I had in this non-life of mine? Why had this aggravating human ever been born? He would ruin me.

I turned my face away from him, as a sudden fierce, unreasoning hatred washed through me.

Who was this creature? Why me, why now? Why did I have to lose everything just because he happened to choose this unlikely town to appear in?

Why had he come here!

I didn’t want to be the monster! I didn’t want to kill this room full of harmless humans! I didn’t want to lose everything I’d gained in a lifetime of sacrifice and denial!

I wouldn’t. He couldn’t make me.

The scent was the problem, the hideously appealing scent of his blood. If there was only some way to resist...if only another gust of fresh air could clear my head.

Beau Swan ran his fingers through his thick, mahogany hair.

Was he insane? It was as if he were encouraging the monster! Taunting him. There was no friendly breeze to blow the smell away from me now. All would soon be lost.

No, there was no helpful breeze. But I didn’t have to breathe.

I stopped the flow of air through my lungs; the relief was instantaneous, but incomplete. I still had the memory of the scent in my head, the taste of it on the back of my tongue. I wouldn’t be able to resist even that for long. But perhaps I could resist for an hour. One hour. Just enough time to get out of this room full of victims, victims that maybe didn’t have to be victims. If I could resist for one short hour.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, not breathing. My body did not need oxygen, but it went against my instincts. I relied on scent more than my other senses in times of stress. It led the way in the hunt, it was the first warning in case of danger. I did not often came across something as dangerous as I was, but self-preservation was just as strong in my kind as it was in the average human.

Uncomfortable, but manageable. More bearable than smelling him and not sinking my teeth through that fine, thin, pale skin to the hot, wet, pulsing—

An hour! Just one hour. I must not think of the scent, the taste.

The silent boy leaned forward, resting his head in his hand, turning his face away from me slightly. I couldn’t see his face properly, to read the emotions in his clear diamond-gray eyes. Was this why he had turned away from me? To hide those eyes from me? Out of fear? Shyness? To keep his secrets from me?

My former irritation at being stymied by his soundless thoughts was weak and pale in comparison to the need—and the hate—that possessed me now. For I hated this mysterious boy beside me, hated him with all the fervor with which I clung to my former self, my love of my family, my dreams of being something better than what I was... Hating him, hating how he made me feel—it helped a little. Yes, the irritation I’d felt before was weak, but it, too, helped a little. I clung to any emotion that distracted me from imagining what he would taste like...

Hate and irritation. Impatience. Would the hour never pass?

And when the hour ended... Then he would walk out of this room. And I would do what?

I could introduce myself. Hello, my name is Edward Cullen. May I walk you to your next class?

He would say yes. It would be the polite thing to do. Even already fearing me, as I suspected he did, he would follow convention and walk beside me. It should be easy enough to lead him in the wrong direction. A spur of the forest reached out like a finger to touch the back corner of the parking lot. I could tell him I’d forgotten a book in my car...

Would anyone notice that I was the last person he’d been seen with? It was raining, as usual; two dark raincoats heading the wrong direction wouldn’t pique too much interest, or give me away.

Except that I was not the only student who was aware of him today—though no one was as blisteringly aware as I was. Mike Newton, in particular, was conscious of every shift in his weight as he fidgeted in his chair—he was uncomfortable so close to me, just as anyone would be, just as I’d expected before his scent had destroyed all charitable concern. Mike Newton would notice if he left the classroom with me.

If I could last an hour, could I last two?

I flinched at the pain of the burning.

He would go home to an empty house. Police Chief Swan worked a full day. I knew his house, as I knew every house in the tiny town. His home was nestled right up against thick woods, with no close neighbors. Even if he had time to scream, which he would not, there would be no one to hear.

That would be the responsible way to deal with this. I’d gone eight decades without human blood. If I held my breath, I could last two hours. And when I had him alone, there would be no chance of anyone else getting hurt. And no reason to rush through the experience, the monster in my head agreed.

It was sophistry to think that by saving the nineteen humans in this room with effort and patience, I would be less a monster when I killed this innocent boy.

Though I hated him, I knew my hatred was unjust. I knew that what I really hated was myself. And I would hate us both so much more when he was dead.

I made it through the hour in this way—imagining the best ways to kill him. I tried to avoid imagining the actual act. That might be too much for me; I might lose this battle and end up killing everyone in sight. So I planned strategy, and nothing more. It carried me through the hour.

Once, toward the very end, he peeked up at me through his fingers. I could feel the unjustified hatred burning out of me as I met his gaze—see the reflection of it in his frightened eyes. Blood painted his cheeks before he could hide in his hands again, and I was nearly undone.

But the bell rang. Saved by the bell—how cliché. We were both saved. He, saved from death. I, saved for just a short time from being the nightmarish creature I feared and loathed.

I couldn’t walk as slowly as I should as I darted from the room. If anyone had been looking at me, they might have suspected that there was something not right about the way I moved. No one was paying attention to me. All human thoughts still swirled around the boy who was condemned to die in little more than an hour’s time.

I hid in my car.

I didn’t like to think of myself having to hide. How cowardly that sounded. But it was unquestionably the case now.

I didn’t have enough discipline left to be around humans now. Focusing so much of my efforts on not killing one of them left me no resources to resist the others. What a waste that would be. If I were to give in to the monster, I might as well make it worth the defeat.

I played a CD of music that usually calmed me, but it did little for me now. No, what helped most now was the cool, wet, clean air that drifted with the light rain through my open windows. Though I could remember the scent of Beau Swan’s blood with perfect clarity, inhaling the clean air was like washing out the inside of my body from its infection.

I was sane again. I could think again. And I could fight again. I could fight against what I didn’t want to be.

I didn’t have to go to his home. I didn’t have to kill him. Obviously, I was a rational, thinking creature, and I had a choice. There was always a choice.

It hadn’t felt that way in the classroom...but I was away from him now. Perhaps, if I avoided him very, very carefully, there was no need for my life to change. I had things ordered the way I liked them now. Why should I let some aggravating and delicious nobody ruin that?

I didn’t have to disappoint my father. I didn’t have to cause my mother stress, worry...pain. Yes, it would hurt my adopted mother, too. And Esme was so gentle, so tender and soft. Causing someone like Esme pain was truly inexcusable.

How ironic that I’d wanted to protect this human boy from the paltry, toothless threat of his classmates’ thoughts. I was the last person who would ever stand as a protector for Beauregard Swan. He would never need protection from anything more than he needed it from me.

Where was Alice, I suddenly wondered? Hadn’t she seen me killing the Swan boy in a multitude of ways? Why hadn’t she come to help—to stop me or help me clean up the evidence, whichever? Was she so absorbed with watching for trouble with Jasper that she’d missed this much more horrific possibility? Was I stronger than I thought? Would I really not have done anything to the boy?

No. I knew that wasn’t true. Alice must be concentrating on Jasper very hard.

I searched in the direction I knew she would be, in the small building used for English classes. It did not take me long to locate her familiar ‘voice.’ And I was right. Her every thought was turned to Jasper, watching his small choices with minute scrutiny.

I wished I could ask her advice, but at the same time, I was glad she didn’t know what I was capable of. That she was unaware of the massacre I had considered in the last hour.

I felt a new burn through my body—the burn of shame. I didn’t want any of them to know.

If I could avoid Beau Swan, if I could manage not to kill him—even as I thought that, the monster writhed and gnashed his teeth in frustration—then no one would have to know. If I could keep away from his scent...

There was no reason why I shouldn’t try, at least. Make a good choice. Try to be what Carlisle thought I was.

The last hour of school was almost over. I decided to put my new plan into action at once. Better than sitting here in the parking lot where he might pass me and ruin my attempt. Again, I felt the unjust hatred for the boy. I hated that he had this unconscious power over me. That he could make me be something I reviled.

I walked swiftly—a little too swiftly, but there were no witnesses—across the tiny campus to the office. There was no reason for Beau Swan to cross paths with me. He would be avoided like the plague he was.

The office was empty except for the secretary, the one I wanted to see.

She didn’t notice my silent entrance.

“Mrs. Cope?”

The woman with the unnaturally red hair looked up and her eyes widened. It always caught them off guard, the little markers they didn’t understand, no matter how many times they’d seen one of us before.

“Oh,” she gasped, a little flustered. She smoothed her shirt. Silly, she thought to herself. He’s almost young enough to be my son. Too young to think of that way...

“Hello, Edward. What can I do for you?” Her eyelashes fluttered behind her thick glasses.

Uncomfortable. But I knew how to be charming when I wanted to be. It was easy, since I was able to know instantly how any tone or gesture was taken.

I leaned forward, meeting her gaze as if I were staring deeply into her depthless, small brown eyes. Her thoughts were already in a flutter. This should be simple.

“I was wondering if you could help me with my schedule,” I said in the soft voice I reserved for not scaring humans.

I heard the tempo of her heart increase.

“Of course, Edward. How can I help?” Too young, too young, she chanted to herself. Wrong, of course. I was older than her grandfather. But according to my driver’s license, she was right.

“I was wondering if I could move from my biology class to a senior level science? Physics, perhaps?”

“It there a problem with Mrs. Banner, Edward?”

“Not at all, it’s just that I’ve already studied this material...”

“In that accelerated school you all went to in Alaska, right.” Her thin lips pursed as she considered this. They should all be in college. I’ve heard the teachers complain. Perfect four point ohs, never a hesitation with a response, never a wrong answer on a test—like they’ve found some way to cheat in every subject. Mr. Varner would rather believe that anyone was cheating than think a student was smarter than him... I’ll bet their mother tutors them... “Actually, Edward, physics is pretty much full right now. Mrs. Banner hates to have more than twenty-five students in a class—”

“I wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Of course not. Not a perfect Cullen. “I know that, Edward. But there just aren’t enough seats as it is...”

“Could I drop the class, then? I could use the period for independent study.”

“Drop biology?” He mouth fell open. That’s crazy. How hard is it to sit through a subject you already know? There must be a problem with Mrs. Banner. I wonder if I should talk to Betty about it? “You won’t have enough credits to graduate.”

“I’ll catch up next year.”

“Maybe you should talk to your parents about that.”

The door opened behind me, but who ever it was did not think of me, so I ignored the arrival and concentrated on Mrs. Cope. I leaned slightly closer, and held my eyes a little wider. This would work better if they were gold instead of black. The blackness frightened people, as it should.

“Please, Mrs. Cope?” I made my voice as smooth and compelling as it could be— and it could be considerably compelling. “Isn’t there some other section I could switch to? I’m sure there has to be an open slot somewhere? Sixth hour biology can’t be the only option...”

I smiled at her, careful not to flash my teeth so widely that it would scare her, letting the expression soften my face.

Her heart drummed faster. Too young, she reminded herself frantically. “Well, maybe I could talk to Betty—I mean Mrs. Banner. I could see if—”

A second was all it took to change everything: the atmosphere in the room, my mission here, the reason I leaned toward the red-haired woman... What had been for one purpose before was now for another.

A second was all it took for Samantha Wells to open the door and place a signed tardy slip in the basket by the door, and hurry out again, in a rush to be away from school. A second was all it took for the sudden gust of wind through the open door to crash into me. A second was all it took for me to realize why that first person through the door had not interrupted me with his thoughts.

I turned, though I did not need to make sure. I turned slowly, fighting to control the muscles that rebelled against me.

Beau Swan stood with his back pressed to the wall beside the door, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. His eyes were even wider than usual as he took in my ferocious, inhuman glare.

The smell of his blood saturated every particle of air in the tiny, hot room. My throat burst into flames.

The monster glared back at me from the mirror of his eyes again, a mask of evil.

My hand hesitated in the air above the counter. I would not have to look back in order to reach across it and slam Mrs. Cope’s head into her desk with enough force to kill her. Two lives, rather than twenty. A trade.

The monster waited anxiously, hungrily, for me to do it.

But there was always a choice—there had to be.

I cut off the motion of my lungs, and fixed Carlisle’s face in front of my eyes. I turned back to face Mrs. Cope, and heard her internal surprise at the change in my expression. She shrank away from me, but her fear did not form into coherent words.

Using all the control I’d mastered in my decades of self-denial, I made my voice even and smooth. There was just enough air left in my lungs to speak once more, rushing through the words.

“Never mind, then. I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.”

I spun and launched myself from the room, trying not to feel the warm-blooded heat of the boy’s body as I passed within inches of it.

I didn’t stop until I was in my car, moving too fast the entire way there. Most of the humans had cleared out already, so there weren’t a lot of witnesses. I heard a sophomore, D.J. Garrett, notice, and then disregard...

Where did Cullen come from—it was like he just came out of thin air... There I go, with the imagination again. Mom always says...

When I slid into my Volvo, the others were already there. I tried to control my breathing, but I was gasping at the fresh air like I’d been suffocated.

“Edward?” Alice asked, alarm in her voice.

I just shook my head at her.

“What the hell happened to you?” Emmett demanded, distracted, for the moment, from the fact that Jasper was not in the mood for his rematch. Instead of answering, I threw the car into reverse. I had to get out of this lot before Beau Swan could follow me here, too. My own person demon, haunting me... I swung the car around and accelerated. I hit forty before I was on the road. On the road, I hit seventy before I made the corner.

Without looking, I knew that Emmett, Royal and Jasper had all turned to stare at Alice. She shrugged. She couldn’t see what had passed, only what was coming.

She looked ahead for me now. We both processed what she saw in her head, and we were both surprised.

“You’re leaving?” she whispered.

The others stared at me now.

“Am I?” I hissed through my teeth.

She saw it then, as my resolve wavered and another choice spun my future in a darker direction. “Oh.”

Beau Swan, dead. My eyes, glowing crimson with fresh blood. The search that would follow. The careful time we would wait before it was safe for us to pull out and start again...

“Oh,” she said again. The picture grew more specific. I saw the inside of Chief Swan’s house for the first time, saw Beau in a small kitchen with yellow cupboards, his back to me as I stalked him from the shadows...let the scent pull me toward him...

“Stop!” I groaned, not able to bear more.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

The monster rejoiced.

And the vision in her head shifted again. An empty highway at night, the trees beside it coated in snow, flashing by at almost two hundred miles per hour.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. “No matter how short a time you’re gone.”

Emmett and Royal exchanged an apprehensive glance.

We were almost to the turn off onto the long drive that led to our home.

“Drop us here,” Alice instructed. “You should tell Carlisle yourself.”

I nodded, and the car squealed to a sudden stop.

Emmett, Royal and Jasper got out in silence; they would make Alice explain when I was gone. Alice touched my shoulder.

“You will do the right thing,” she murmured. Not a vision this time—an order. “He’s Charlie Swan’s only family. It would kill him, too.”

“Yes,” I said, agreeing only with the last part.

She slid out to join the others, her eyebrows pulling together in anxiety. They melted into woods, out of sight before I could turn the car around.

I accelerated back toward town, and I knew the visions in Alice’s head would be flashing from dark to bright like a strobe light. As I sped back to Forks doing ninety, I wasn’t sure where I was going. To say goodbye to my father? Or to embrace the monster inside me?

The road flew away beneath my tires.

#Midnight Sun #Midnight Sun Revamped #Edward Cullen #Beau Swan

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chameleon-cryptid · 7 years ago

Note

♻️ Rhyan

Rhyan from another universe (it’s going to be ours) or timeline (two time lines here). Warnings for homophobia, implied drug use, and implied skankery:

(whoops, this turned out really long and I didn’t proof read it. OH WELL)

_______________

“Oh look.Here he comes. The fag with his flute. I bet you like playing the skin flute too.”

“You know you’re going to hell, Rhyan. God hates fags!”

What did these jerks know about hell. For Rhyan, he was in it already. The halls of his highschool were lined with demons who seemed content on making this his own living hell. There wasn’t a day that went by where he wasn’t taunted, beat, or otherwise humiliated and ridiculed for who he was. He ignored it most of the time, but for some reason, it got to him today. He took off, running, trying to get to the place where he knew he was safe. Where he wasn’t a fag or a fairy. Where he was respected.

He only stopped when he got to the musical instrument storage room in the music wing. The tears were already there though as he stormed in to the room, full of other students. Concerned voices reached out to him, but he wasn’t hearing them properly.

“Rhyan? Are you okay?”

“Are those guys fucking with you again?”

“I’m going to go tell Mr. Aston. Those guys should be expelled.”

In the back of his mind, he heard that and shook his head, wiping away tears. “No...no I’m fine.”

He was always fine. Never reported it. He didn’t want to be trouble. His father would argue that kids bully each other and that his youngest son should man up, maybe throw a punch out if someone was bothering him. Rhyan theorised that if his father had been a classmate of his, he’d be one of the ones bullying him. It hurt. Suddenly, though, his vision was full of blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Fuck those guys, Rhyan. Or rather don’t. You’re way too good-looking for them. Want me to shove my snare right up their asshole?”

Rhyan blushed. Mike was section leader of the percussion section, president of the marching band, and generally just a wonderful person. He was liked by everyone, attractive, smart. Rhyan had a bit of a crush on him, but then ...so did Mike’s girlfriend.

“No..I’m fine, Mike. Really I am.”

“Well...seriously though, fuck those guys. You’re the best musician in this school, best singer. What have those shits ever done. Like...their biggest accomplishment is probably kissing their cousins behind the shed at the family reunion. Fucking backwards, inbred hicks. Forget about them. You’ll have the last laugh someday when you’re famous.” The blonde teenager grinned, patting Rhyan’s forearm a bit harder than Rhyan would’ve liked but he realised the guy didn’t know his own strength.

Rhyan hoped MIke was right. Maybe one day. If he practised really hard.

*********

Rhyan lounged in his hotel suite on a couch, eyes closed, shirtless, slightly drunk, amidst the chatter and noise of groupies and fans, makeup artists, roadies, PAs, lackeys, and techies. He’d just finished another sold out show and was still basking in the glow of the applause. He was vaguely aware that someone beautiful had slithered up beside him and was leaning provocatively toward him. Opening his eyes, his vision is met with a gorgeous young man, dark hair, pale eyes, tanned skin. Rhyan couldn’t help but smirk.

“Well, hello there.” He says to the unfamiliar face. Ah, the joy of groupies.

He was just about to get to know this particular person a little better when one of the members of security walked up. “Sorry, Mr. Charm. Coupla guys out here say they know you from marching band and highschool. Asked if they could come say hello.”

Rhyan reluctantly extracted his tongue from the groupie’s mouth and leaned back sighing. He was quiet for a moment, a little peeved at being interrupted. But if they were friends from marching band, he should see them. After all, they were his only comfort growing up. He nods finally.

“Okay, show them in.” he said and turned back to look at the man beside him for a brief moment while the security guard went off to fetch the guys. “I’ll talk to you again in a couple minutes. You know, I always stay in this hotel when I tour here. The bathrooms have incredibly large tubs.”

The groupie grinned. He got the hint, standing and heading off toward the bathroom, throwing a coy look over his shoulder. Rhyan grinned watching him but then got distracted by the sight of his backup guitarist accidentally dumping a bunch of cocaine on the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Joe, if you can’t even manage to get the coke up your nose, maybe it’s time to call it a night.” He complained, though he was ignored except for being flipped off. He laughed a little bit as security showed up with his supposed former friends.

Rhyan froze. These weren’t friends from marching band. They were his bullies. The guys who made his four years of highschool a living hell. He stared up at these men, and suddenly he was fifteen again, running through the halls, crying his eyes out.

“Rhyan...hey. Do you...do you remember us? We went to highschool together.” One of them said.

“We really love your latest album. I mean, everyone knew in highschool you were gonna be big. Didn’t you win Most Musical for our graduating class?”

“Oh yeah, he didn’t didn’t he? Remember you sang the national anthem for the football games. You remember us, right. Chad and Tim. God, this is a fucking awesome party.” The first prattled on.

Rhyan was motionless, staring at the two as they tried to get Rhyan to acknowledge that he knew them. He dug his fingernails into his knees and clenched his jaw. How dare they. How dare they come and encroach on his territory. Those guys who used to make a big deal about even sitting in a seat he used for fear of ‘getting AIDS from the homo’. Rhyan was livid. But he was a performer. So he smiled.

“Of course I remember you two. What sort of business are you in now?” He asked congenially.

“Oh, Chad here works in construction. Excavator operator and I got a job Benton Foundary.” Tim said.

Rhyan nodded. “You guys married? Got any kids.”

Chad nods, smiling sheepishly. “Two kids. Not married anymore, but...well, single life eh!” he says gesturing around to the party.

Rhyan laughed a little. “Ah, yeah, it’s a good life.”

Tim nods enthusiastically eyeing a groupie in a lewdly appraising manner. “Yeah, single life.” He was wearing a wedding ring.

Rhyan gave them a bit of a Look. Sure Rhyan was promiscuous, but he was at least honest about it.

“It really is a good life. A great life.” Rhyan continued. “My life, it is fucking fantastic.” His voice was raising a bit, carrying through the room as more and more people at the party listened. People always listened to him. You didn’t get to be lead singer of an incredibly successful rock band if people didn’t want to listen to you.

“Amazing, life. I’ve got three houses, you know? One in California, one in London, and one down in the Caribbean. I’ve got ten cars. Though cars have never really been my thing. I like the motorbikes better. My accountant keeps telling me to stop buying them..but...” he shrugs, standing. “my willpower for something sporty and fast is non-existent...”

“I’ve stayed in the fanciest hotels, eaten at the best restaurants, and gone to the most exclusive clubs on earth. Met celebrities, royalty, politicians. And at one point...” He steps forward then, gesturing with his hands as the two men watch him frowning, only now realising that Rhyan’s making a point. “...at one point, I looked around at my lavish lifestyle and said...what am I doing with myself. All this wealth and I’m not giving back. So I started donating to charities. Lending my name, my voice, my image to charities that help combat bullying toward gay, lesbian, transgender teenagers. To find them support. Did you buy my album? Attend any of my shows? Some of those proceeds went toward that charity. So thanks guys. Not only did you inspire my charitable work, but you contributed to it, too.” he was nearly shouting now.

The room was a bit quiet then. Most of the partiers had no clue what was going on and why Rhyan was ranting at them. But from the back of the suite, a voice rang out.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” The percussionist from Rhyan’s band cried out. In a moment, Mike was at Rhyan’s side, pointing at the two men. “Fuck those guys, Rhyan! They made your life fucking hell in highschool. Fuck them.”

Chad recognised the man, eyes widening. “Mike. Hey..come on buddy. We were kids. Boys will be boys, eh?”

MIke threw out a punch. A hard one. Right at Chad’s face. The man crumpled to the ground holding his nose. Rhyan’s eyes widenend and he covered his mouth with his hand, shocked at the splatter of blood that came out of the punch.

“Miserable fucks” Mike said as Chad cradled his face and Tim just looked shocked. “Get these assholes out of here.” Mike said to the security guard who radioed for assistance before dragging the two out.

Rhyan was still stunned as Mike shook out his bruised hand, frowning a bit and muttering something about suing if he’s broken it over that asshole’s nose.

“Mike..they’re gonna go to the press. You’ll get arrested for assault!” he said in a panicked voice.

“Please, battery at the most.” He gave a horned symbol with his fingers ironically. “Rock star life, yeah?” He said then ambled back across the room to his wife who was most definitely looking a little unimpressed muttering about how security could have taken care of the guys.

Rhyan took a deep breath. He was definitely glad he wasn’t completely sober, otherwise he might’ve been freaking out now, on the phone to his publicist, making sure she could fix it.

“Rhyan, are you coming? I ..met a friend on the way to the bathroom and we thought you were coming to join us.” The dark haired groupie from earlier called out from the bathroom door while a blonde one poked his head out too. “Look, I know you’re a rockstar and all and used to people doing whatever you say, but we’re gonna start without you if you don’t hurry up.” The blonde said with a challenging little smirk. Fiesty. Rhyan liked it.

Rhyan smiled a little. “Sorry fellas.” he said and made his way over to bathroom, but not before looking over to Mike who was looked like he was being berated by his wife. He caught his best friend’s eyes and smiled his thanks to him. Mike in return nodded then gave the horned finger symbol again, mouthing ‘rock star life’ back at him.

Rhyan grinned and chuckled. He loved his life, and in the end, Mike was right. He had had the last laugh.

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sassasquashedgrapes · 7 years ago

Text

Another Story: A Glee x Kissed by the Baddest Bidder Cross-over

It’s me again! Your friendly neighborhood, Squashed Grape.

It’s been a while since I got into the fanfic (or any literal stuff) and decided to do some fan service today. This is an old post but a goodie. You see, I’ve been a fan of Glee during the early days and was also a huge Otome player (lol. the closest to player I’ll ever be). And made this fanfic cross-over of sorts inspired from the Voltage Inc story, Kissed by the Baddest Bidder. Actually I *might* have switched the names a bit and the plot line is from the intro except for a few tweaks. Anyway, I just wanna lay it all down there so nobody starts yelling bloody murder.

After all, wasn’t 50 Shades like some fan service to Twilight, so haters can just move along now, Nothing to see.

So without much further ado, a short story cross-over for y’all!!

By the way, be prepared for a series of long fanfics of Glee coming at your way. This is only just the beginning of the Hargreave brothers.

click below

Another Story: Kissed By The Baddest Bidder/Glee Fanfic.

I’ve always been a huge fan of the otome game and the delicious notion of having someone used up for bidding, using the Glee characters seemed absolutely too good to resist. How could I? So shall we? Elian “Ian” Hargreave – Eisuke Ichinomiya Mike Chang – Soryu Oh, the cool mobster Noah Puckerman – Mitsunari Baba, the philandering theif Kurt Hummel – Ota Kisaki , the artist. Lol I know, Ota doesn’t swing that way but I always pegged Ota as a closet anyway. Cooper Anderson – Mamuro Kishi, the lazy detective and of course: Lucy Quinn Fabray – MC

Quinn Fabray is different in this storyline. I made a parallel universe of sorts, changing a bit of her past to make her come to her present future. So instead of moving to McKinley High, Lucy Q. Fabray’s father, Russel, dies of a heart attack and thus her mother remarries another man who worked as a hotel concierge manager in one of the most prestigious hotels in New York, the fictional hotel/casino Wyndham, (loosely based on the Waldorf Astoria) which is owned by then the family of Elian Hargreave’s grandfather who eventually takes over the hotel after graduating from high school. Quinn has grown up in the hotel, pretty much understanding and loving every detail and aspect of it, treating it as if it were her own family since she pretty much lead a lonely life in New York, being a small town girl from Ohio who turned out to grow into a beautiful young woman. This storyline is inspired by the Otome route of Eisuke Ichinomiya, whom I think was the best storyline for someone like her. I’m way too biased that I don’t think I want to share Soryu Oh with her, hahaha. Fast forward to the present, Quinn just graduated from Yale, but is now working he as a chambermaid in the hotel to earn extra cash at the same time pay for her college loans while she looks for a job.

Prologue: As I feel a trickle of sweat behind my back while being in the middle of the spotlight, I start to wonder as I stare into the crowd facing me “how on earth did I ever come to this?”

12 hours earlier

“Good morning,” I greet cheerfully as I swing open the door in locker room of the female changing hall as if I’ve done so many times over. I’m working during the summer as a maid at a hotel owned by the Hargreave Group, which is a large company that owns banks, trading companies, locally and overseas.

“Good morning, Lucy,” greets Marley, one of the maids who also works part-time in the hotel. I know for a fact that she looks old enough to still be in highschool, but I’ve never bothered to pry into matters like gossip. As long as they keep to their business, I keep to mine. But despite it, I feel like I could confide in her because she seems so open and nice.

“The VIP convention starts today. I am super excited,” Marley grins as she mentions one of the annual big events the hotel/casino throws.

“I’ll bet you’d be way too busy to get excited since you’ll be working at the casino floor,” I grin back thinking how exhausted I’m going to be once this convention is over. I’ve been living in the Wyndham since I was 15 after my dad died and my mother remarried. I’d come to love it as if it were my own family and was familiar with its daily routine until 4 years ago when it underwent a massive renovation into becoming the first hotel/casino in New York. It had been quite a scandal at first, with government officials opposing the idea of bringing “Las Vegas” to the metropolis, but the whole issue died down after a while and for the last two years, the Wyndham, became New York’s first legal casino and hotel.

“Don’t you wish you could work at the IVC?” Marley was referring to the International VIP Convention, one of the newly annual conventions frequented by Hollywood A-list stars, World leaders, socialites and big time businessmen who gathered once a year to play at the casinos and have a go into dabbling in a world of glamour

“Yeah, that would be great.” I agreed quietly.

“Well, that’s the goal of everyone who works here.” Marley sighed as she hunkered on the bench and rested her elbow on her knee as she propped her head on her hand. “I’ve been dreaming about it ever since I saw it on TV. Seeing movie stars, top athletes, and other super famous people all over the world gathered here in this party. I even heard Perez Hilton was so pissed that he didn’t get an invite.” She pursed her lips conspiratorially.

“You know, when I applied for this job a few months ago, I didn’t think I was going to be hired that I thought I was dreaming when I actually did.” Marley grinned happily. I smiled feeling how infectious her mood was, she was so upbeat by the whole thing, I didn’t want to look like a kill joy so I agreed.

“Oh my god.” She stopped suddenly as if she had thought of something of real importance. “What if some rich, famous guy falls in love with me at first sight?” I hope he knows you’re barely 18, I mentally think and almost utter it out loud but I stop myself and….

“Haha, keep dreaming.” I just say instead.

Whew, that was close. Our VIP guests are important, but I also value working for our regular guests, too. I had just graduated in a Marketing degree at Yale, but with the recession, jobs were scarcely handed and I didn’t feel the need to dabble in doing freebies as an Intern in a big corporation, when I could be earning much more doing it here in Wyndham. It really isn’t so bad. I really didn’t care that much about image anyway since moving to New York. Somehow the anonymity of it all had liberated me from the confines of the shallowness that I had experienced living in Lima, Ohio that I didn’t give a damn anymore.

I thought about the IVC, the International VIP Convention, Wyndham’s largest annual event is today and the international publicity with the media hanging around the area was totally insane. Unlike Marley, I had actually dreaded this more because I knew things were busier and a lot more tense than usual. My step-father, Charlie was one of the managers of the hotel and was in charge of the VIP guests lounge and had direct connections to the owner, Mr. Elian Hargreave. I heard a lot about the new owner, how accomplished he was despite his young age. He was featured in Forbes magazine as the most successful businessman under 40 years of age (rumors had it that he couldn’t be more than 30 years old.) He reminded me of a true-to-life Bruce Wayne, ridiculously handsome in a dark, mysterious way and was always surrounded by beautiful women. I knew my sister, Fran was crushing on him big time that she even begged Charlie for an introduction, but to no avail.

As we left the locker room and head to the hotel lobby, where a crowd of reporters and onlookers gathered, people whom I’ve only seen on TV or on a movie screen started appearing, strutting as if they were meant to walk down the red carpet and enter the magnificent lobby as if it were from a Hollywood movie scene.

“Oh. My God.” Marley’s mouth literally hung wide open. “Look who just got out of that limo.”

I crane my neck and look around thinking that she just saw the famous TV actress who was in a popular teen show. What was her name again? Elena Davenport? She was famous for being in this TV show about a love triangle between a vampire and a cyborg. It was insane how people were shouting her name as if it were part of her entourage. She looked stunning with her black hair and her golden skin that had obviously seen the tropics recently. She was then accompanied by an equally handsome young man who stood well over six feet tall and had a shock of black brown hair.

“That guy’s always on the VIP list. They call him the King,” Marley whispers as if we’re in church.

“I thought that was Elvis,” I quipped chuckling at her disgruntled look. I knew what she meant. I wasn’t one to get caught up in celebrity gossip, but that King she was referring to was no other than the owner of the Wyndham, Mr. Hargreave. He gallantly bowed offering his arm to Elena who gave him a dazzling smile as she took his arm. Hanging on the other side of his arm was also someone famous. I heard she was the new Broadway superstar and her name was Rachel Berry. Behind him was another famous model who often graced those ads in Vogue and a famous British reality show actress.

All the women around him are famous, I think dully as I look down in my frumpy uniform. For some odd feeling I felt a pang of something that I couldn’t understand wash over me. Before I had time to even think about it, Marley again interrupted my thoughts by whispering again on my ear.

“He’s been living in the penthouse suite for a while now.” “Of course he does, he owns the hotel.”

“But it costs tens and thousands of dollars to stay there for the night.” Marley argued.

“Maybe it’s a lot more convenient to keep tabs of work here than living on Park Avenue or at the East Side.” I shrugged watching as Mr. Hargreave pays no attention to the huge crowd and walks straight ahead.

I realize that I can’t take my eyes off him. I’ve heard the how the female hotel staff would gush about how hot he was, but seeing him in the flesh just took my breath away.

“Aaaah!!! Over here, Elian!!!” one of the women from the mass crowd screams holding a phone camera hoping to get a picture of him.

Suddenly, a group of women, thinking about doing the same thing start running towards him and bump into me and I feel myself being pushed right into the crowd and on to the red carpet.

SMACK!

I feel like I just hit a wall and close my eyes bracing myself for the pain to follow after the impact. Instead I feel a band of steel arms hold me close, as if to steady me from the madness. I then pry my eyes open and find myself staring into a pair of steel gray blue eyes that were placed like jewels on a handsome chiseled face.

Mr. Hargreave!!

“Aah, I- I’m so sorry,” I stammered, feeling the rush of blood flow straight at my face and into my brain as I continue to look at him, almost mesmerized yet horrified by what had just transpired. I still feel his arms around me and I could just tell that this multibillionaire really does work out because he’s practically hugging me right now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a haughty voice belonging to the new Broadway ingénue pipes up beside Mr. Hargreave. She sounds almost disgusted by the sight of me. I can see from the corner of my peripheral vision that Elena Davenport was smirking as if amused by what was happening. God, I didn’t think she was such a bitch until now.

But instead of voicing that sentiment out, I knew I had a job at stake and right now it was totally hanging in the balance. I had just publicly humiliated myself in front of the owner of the hotel and his guests and was drawing unnecessary attention right now and it was more than I could honestly bear. I swallow and gather myself before bitchy Quinn Fabray comes out and try to mutter an apology again but am cut short by a curt, masculine and surprisingly sexy voice.

“Get out of the way,” Mr. Hargreave says as he suddenly pulls away from me, and pushes me not quite gently aside.

“What?” I mutter in disbelief as I lose my balance and fall flat on my butt to the ground.

Owwwww..

I look at slight disdain at the man who apparently was also my boss, but his muscular, tapered back was the only thing that could see that look on my face as I watch walk further away. He brushes off his suit as if he had just encountered a speck of dust and before I thought he had finally dismissed me, turns his head and shoots me a glare and then suddenly disappears into the casino hall.

I suddenly realize with a shock that I still had that look of displeasure on my face and grimaced as I rubbed my lower back, trying yet again to stead myself as the crowd disappeared into where Mr. Hargreave and his entourage were headed. Marley quickly comes rushing over to my side.

“Are you okay, Luce?” She asks me, totally concerned as she called me by my nickname. I haven’t been called Lucy for a while, I had been using Quinn since I had come to New York, but somehow there was a comfort in still being known as Lucy while here in the confines of the Wyndham.

“Yeah, my butt and my pride are fine,” I say.

“Oh my God. Mr. Hargreave caught you in his arms. I am so totally jealous! Did he smell nice? Was he really as buff underneath that suit as they say?” Marley was acting like a puppy dog fawning over that jerk.

“I don’t know, I don’t even r-remember,” I lied because I had just mentally scratched Elian Hargreave off as a completely cold, aloof, unfeeling human being. The nerve of that man! He didn’t even bother to defend me while I, one of his staff members, was berated by that Broadway bitch Berry.

Hmm. That had a nice ring to it. I feel tons better knowing that the girl could have used a plastic surgeon as good as the one who did my nose.

Come to think of it, Elian Hargreave was actually pretty frightening. I’ve seen how New Yorkers glare sometimes, but that cold look was totally at subzero levels worthy of the Artic.

I smooth out my clothes and hear the click clack of high heels behind me.

“Just what were you thinking, making a fool out of yourself?” a cold, voice tinged with an Italian accent snapped me back to reality. “And in front of such important guests and even the owner of this hotel?”

“Miss Thelma, “ I say coolly plastering a smile at one of the hotel managers. Thelma Caparano has been on my ass since the day I started working at the Wyndham when she found out I graduated with honors on my Marketing degree from Yale. Perhaps it was that and because I’m Charlie’s kid that she thinks I deserve to be more ill-treated than a worn-out mule from a third world country. She stands imposingly before me, all dressed up in her expertly tailored uniform as she clacked impatiently on her Prada heels waiting for me to answer her.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. It was an accident…”

“You are at fault for not paying attention to what’s going on around you,” she clucked her tongue at me, looking at me disapprovingly under those heavy glasses that framed her would-have-been pretty-if-she-wasn’t-such-a-bitch face. She was probably a few years older than me, but the harshness of her demeanor just made her look like petulant and almost bratty for a woman in her mid-thirties.

“Aren’t you in charge of the regular guests, Fabray?” She asks with a smirk on her face.

Oh boy, she does enjoy torturing me.

“You have no business even being here in the lobby. Not unless you get promoted to handling the VIP guests. But you won’t get that chance, would you? Not even if you begged your stepfather.” She laughed as if she had just thought of that joke and it was funny.

Ugh. I am totally so close to slapping her but instead I reply setting my gaze downcast hoping that she won’t see me seething as I meekly reply “Yes, Miss Thelma.”

“Well, since you’re here,” she motions to one of her hotel assistants who was following her like a dog who hands over a box as she shoves it towards me. “Go to every floor and drop off these announcement letters while you’re at it. These are for the guests who wish to avail of the spa promo package we are having in honor of the IVC.”

“Okay,” I say since arguing about doing a herculean task is going to go nowhere anyway since this angry vampire is out for my blood. She’s always been a bully and since I would never dared complain of this to Charlie even though I could have, I decide I might as well just shut up and deal with it. I turn and nod to Marley, saying my goodbyes and head towards the elevators.

As I walk by, I see a man, about my age arguing with a young woman about something in front of the elevator. The woman is wearing a dress that looks like something from the recent Fashion Week runway as she throws a mask at the man at the same time spewing a litany of curses in fluent French.

“Connard!! Baise toi!” she screamed as the man looked back in her as if in shock. “You lying, cheating scum! I never want to see you again.” With that, she gave him a resonant slap in the face for added effect before she walked out of the hotel.

This is awkward. I turn my attention instead to the mask that looked as if it were something one wore to a masquerade ball. I suddenly got an image of 50 shades of Grey and find myself staring at the mask lying on the floor. I was about to pick it up when the man who was slapped earlier moves quicker than I could and in a blink of an eye was brushing it off as if were the only precious thing that mattered to him.

Wow, his hands were fast like those of a magician. I turn to look at him and realize that he wasn’t bad looking either. He was of above average height and was muscularly built, but a bit thicker than Mr. Hargreave. He also had dark hair and had the most dazzling pair of emerald green eyes I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t tell what his hair was like underneath that Fedora hat that just made him look like the epitome of 1920’s gangster cool in a modern way.

Fedora Hat sighs dramatically. “Great, now I don’t have a date.” He says as if talking to himself then realizes I’m watching him. When our eyes meet, I quickly look away self-consciously because I didn’t want him to know that I had been caught staring at him. I try to act cool despite the awkward tension but know that he saw me witness the whole thing.

“You saw that, didn’t you?” He smirks, as if reading my mind.

“Yeah. I-I’m really sorry.” I backed away slowly as if avoiding being pounced by some agitated animal.

“Aw, come on. Don’t run away,” Fedora Hat laughs as he gently takes my arm as he leads me towards the elevator, completely ignoring the fact that I’m in the hotel maid’s uniform with a box of undelivered fliers on the other arm. “I’ll explain everything when we get there.”

“S-Sir?”

Before I know it, the man ignores my protests and continues to guide me, half-dragging me into the elevator with him. We’re alone in the elevator and to be honest, this is the first time I’ve been to the basement area. I’m surprised that the basment’s elevator looks just as elegant as the regular floor elevators. It sort of reminded me of going into a secret lair of some evil villain but at the same time being cooped inside a glass bird cage of sorts. I tried to avert my attention to the man beside me and look instead at the buttons of the elevator as the blinking lights affirmed our descent to the unknown.

“Whew! I’m lucky I found you,” Fedora Hat grins at me, still holding onto my arm having no intention of letting me go. His grip isn’t painful nor in any way gentle, but it’s firm enough to hold me into place. As if wanting to distract me from thinking of it, he adds “coz there’s no way I could go to the party without a beautiful woman on my arm. That would be a total buzzkill.”

Buzzkill? Who says that sort of thing these days?

“Party? You mean, the IVC?”

“The One and Only. Isn’t it obvious how I’m dressed?” He opens one free arm to show his expensive Italian cut suit. Definitely Armani now that I got a closer look. And definitely custom made as it fits him perfectly.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you—“

“Hahaha. I’m kidding, babe. Man, you’re kinda uptight for a pretty thing. Were you raised in some Christian Bible thumping school or something?”

“Uh, that’s because I work at this hotel,” I say slowly almost as if trying to hint that I’m still in my maid’s uniform, completely ignoring the fact that he’s actually right about me being Christian. “So technically, I can’t go with you to the party as your date, sir.”

“What are you talking about? The reason why that woman earlier left was so you could be my date, Lucy.” He smiles in the most seductive, sexiest way possible as he finally noticed the name plate on my uniform.

Whoa, this one’s pretty dangerous. And a hopeless flirt as well. I try not to show my fear when grabs my chin and lifts it up to meet his face as he peers down, bringing it closer to mine. I can feel his breath grazing against me as he looks into my eyes.

“Definitely my type. Angel blonde hair, mesmerizing green eyes, and luscious lips…” he trails on softly as I sort of feel his face coming closer. He moves way to fast and I try to squirm away, backing off thinking now I understood perfectly why he got dumped in the first place.

DING! Saved by the bell of the basement floor. The elevator arrives at a full stop at the ballroom and Fedora Hat quickly backs off and casually straightens himself as if nothing of importance was about to take place. He could even care less whether he kissed me or not. Jeez.

“Let’s rock and roll, Princess.” He announces and gives off a broad smile as if putting on a game face. And contrary to his calm demeanor, he drags me out into the ballroom before I can protest as I’m lead into the glamorous ballroom that reminded me from a scene of a Hollywood movie.

I gaped in awestruck fascination, marveling how I could have possibly missed out the new renovations at the Wyndham. The renovations had still managed to maintain some of the old architecture, paying detail to preserving its original Art Deco state, but added with contemporary minimalist design, it’s mixture was astounding and beyond words. I had no means of any background in architecture, but this was like walking into the Hall of Fame on architectural immortality. I was shocked that everyone present were almost nonchalant of the genius behind the design and how lavishly decorated the ballroom was to the point that even the catering was handled in the most A-list of ways. I turn my attention to the gorgeous Swarovski crystals that were adorning the chandeliers that were hanging from the high ceiling.

The entire floor was jam-packed with the rich and famous that I wasn’t even sure if I was hallucinating because it was too much sensory overload to be true. I turn my head and notice Cristian Renaldi, the famous World cup soccer player from Spain to my right. And that’s the famous Hollywood actress, Julie Moore. And even the former President of the United States is over there? I feel like Alice in Wonderland being wrapped around the surrealness of it all being around these celebrities that it takes me a moment to get back to earth and finally notice that Fedora Hat who had dragged me here in the first place was gone.

Huh? Where’d he go?

Suddenly, I hear a womanly voice from behind me.

“Hey, do you have any champagne?” I turn around and am surprised that it wasn’t a woman, but a young man with an angelic face whose skin was as flawless as fine bone china. He had soft, brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looked so familiar because his face was on the cover of this month’s issue of People Magazine being tagged as one of the 25the most beautiful People of the World of this year.

“K-Kurt Hummel!!!” I gasp, recognizing the mega hyphenate National artist/ Pulitizer prize winning Children’s Novelist/ Socialite.

“Oh, you know who I am.” He smiles brightly, happy to have been recognized in a sea of famous faces. “Thanks!”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll look for the champagne now.” I mumble apolitically frantically looking for a bottle of Dom Perignon and Mr. Hummel chuckles behind me, as if thoroughly amused.

“You sure you work here, Alice?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You remind me of Alice in Wonderland when she fell down the rabbit hole and stumbled into the Mad Hatter’s party.” He moves away from me and reaches over the table behind me and lifts a bottle of Moet et Chandon and pours himself a glass. He then thrusts his newly refilled glass towards me nudging me to take a drink.

“Here. You could use one more than me,” he grins. I was about to protest but there was something harsh in his eyes telling me not to defy him as I emptied my glass.

“T-Thanks,” I was about to take the bottle and refill his glass for him when he shakes his head and takes the glass from my hands and pours himself another.

“Now, go on to doing whatever it was and I hope you get back home safely, Alice,” was all he says as he raises his champagne glass, giving me a wink of good luck for whatever it was I was about to partake. He leaves with a wave.

He definitely was spot on about what I was feeling right at that moment.

I should definitely get out of here before I cause any more trouble.

But before I do, another man stops me from my tracks. He’s over fifty, overweight, and perhaps a bit slightly drunk as he grins at me and grabs my hand. Ugh, he also seems really sleazy. “Aren’t you a pretty one?” He slurs and I inwardly flinch from the smell of alcohol and sweat coming from him. “You wanna come with me and give me room service? I’ll make it worth your while and give you a big tip afterwards.

Ewww. His head is shaped like an egg and his pock-marked face is flushed as he looks me up and down.

“I’m sorry, sir but we don’t offer that kind of service here.” I answer politely, knowing that we had been trained beforehand on how to deal with rude perverts like this guest.

He completely ignores me and starts going on how rich he is and how much is net worth is.

To be honest, it wasn’t really much.

He then slips his arm around my waist and is about to pull me towards him when…

“This party just got really trashy.” A familiar masculine voice announced icily. I turn my head towards my savoir and realize that it’s Mr. Hargreave. He ignores my gasp of surprise and scowls at the sleaze holding me.

“I’d rather appreciate it, sir, if you kept your attention from the hotel staff and settle instead for the bevy of beauties surrounding you,” Elian Hargreave grinned sardonically nodding his head towards a group of runway models who flirtly waved back. And just when I thought he couldn’t intimidate the sleazebag, he looked at me as if I were a piece of trash marring the ambience and added cruelly. “Besides, you could totally do better than THAT. This one’s hardly a raving beauty.”

“I-I’m really sorry, Mr. Hargreave, sir! Pardon me!!!” Sleazebag bows apologetically quickly letting go of me as if he had been burned and kept his distance from me like I was infected with Ebola or something. He furiously wipes away his sweat and runs off.

“T-Thank you, Mr. Hargreave,” I say, totally ignoring the pain that he had brushed me off as a ugly and unattractive. But then again, men like him are probably used to just dating models that even ingénues were all blasé for him.

“Let’s go, Elian,” one of the pretty models whom he nodded to a while back approached him and casually hooked her arm around his, totally ignoring me.

“I can’t stand people who don’t know their place,” another one of those long legged giraffes piped in hooking her arm around his other free one as if she were about to die in a desert and he was her oasis.

As if he didn’t even acknowledge my existence and hadn’t even heard me, he turned his back as if nothing had ever happened a few minutes ago before being led away by the Amazonian Brazilian bimbos. He starts walking still surrounded by women and I’m completely overwhelmed as I watch him walk away. I suddenly notice a purple handkerchief on the floor behind him. I remember this being a part of his suit and realize that he dropped it.

Almost without thinking, I picked it up and started going after him.

“Uhm, sir! Excuse me, I think you dropped this—“ I try to chase after Mr. Hargreave but he gets lost in the crowd and I can’t seem to find him.

Oh, wait! There he is!!

I make my way through the crowd and follow him as he makes an exit to the far end of the ballroom.

A long, deserted hallway stretches out behind the door that Mr. Hargreave enters.

“Wait. Where did he go?”

There are several doors on either side of the hallway and I didn’t catch up with him in time to even know which doors did he enter. However, I hear voices coming from the far end. But somehow, as I strain to hear from the distance I get the feeling the conversation wasn’t even in English. I shake my head, thinking that I really have to return this handkerchief back to Mr. Hargreave, I strengthen my resolve and make my way towards the door where the voices were coming from. I note the door is slightly ajar, which explains why I could hear them. I peek through the gap and see several briefcases lying on a table surrounded with guns and large sums of money being packed by three Asian looking men dressed in all black discussing where to put the money in perfect Cantonese and before I could see more, I feel a large hand grab me by the shoulder and roughly pulls me away, swinging me around and forces me up against a wall…

Fear and surprise of being caught seeing something I shouldn’t have take over that I feel like I just might have suffered my first heart attack.

But unfortunately, that doesn’t happen.

Instead, my heart starts pounding again in fear as I’m facing a tall, Asian man of slim, yet muscular build with broad shoulders and powerful muscles who is now glaring at me and asks in in slightly cold, yet scarily threatening voice. His hair is slicked back and even though I know he’s actually quite good looking, I’m paralyzed with fear to hardly even notice.

“What are you doing here?” He demands as he pins me against the wall as his sharp eyes look at me.

Oh dear, God.

It happened so suddenly my body starts to tremble as I start to realize that maybe he is one of those gun men and those men aren’t just hotel guests. But Mafia? Triad?

What on earth should I do?

I breathe and swallow but it’s way too hard to even do so. Instead I focus on his face and answer.

“I-I- w-w-ork h-he---“ He completely ignores me and says instead, “you’ve got give seconds to walk away, disappear and forget everything you just saw. Got it? Otherwise, I’d hate to think what would happen to you after.” He also said it in a way that sounded like he was talking to a five-year old. A not very bright one at that too.

I nod wordlessly over and over, desperate to get away and he immediately lets me go. I run so fast my legs get tangled up with each other at first and don’t even think of where I’m headed. I just run to the point of exhaustion and find myself at the basement storage room. I close the door behind me and try to catch my breath, relieved with the fact that I have just barely escaped with my life as I offer a silent prayer and make the sign of the cross in complete gratitude that the scary Asian Mafia guy just let me go.

I ruminate over the thought of how it was possible for the Triad, one of the notorious Asian Mafias could be tied up to an event like the IVC? Were those guys even part of the Triad? Maybe they weren’t even mafia.

Get a hold of yourself, Fabray. Keep it together. I have just realized right at this moment I had actually lost the box of flyers I was holding earlier. I wasn’t sure if I had lost somewhere from that struggle between me and Fedora Hat, or that Mad Hatter encounter with Kurt Hummel, or even with the Middle Aged Sleazebag . I try again to get my body to function properly as I compose myself thinking over again where I had last left it and realized that it was on the table where I had been with Mr. Hummel.

Just as I swing the door open, I hear a loud crashing THUD.

The door I just swung had collided into something and I could hear a group of men scream “Watch out!!!”

I see two mean-looking men peeking at the other end of the door looking helplessly as the box they were carrying drops to the ground.

“Shit! That was the Winged Victorian Angel!”

Oh no. I remember from the news that this 300 year old museum artifact was meant to be raffled off as the grand prize at the IVC. It had been shipped all the way from the Louvre in Paris as a gift from the newly elected French President to the United States. The proceeds of the IVC’s funding and the raffle were meant to help the victims of Typhoon Haiyan somewhere in the Philippines.

I quickly open the crate box and find the statue was broken in half and my heart just drops to my stomach in nameless shock.

I am way too shocked to even mutter an apology. Not only did I just destroy what might have been a National Treasure, millions of homeless Filipino children were going to starve and suffer.

“Hey, this was a very important piece that was going to be auctioned off.” The slim mean-looking guy barks at me, ignoring my shocked state. Did he just say auctioned? Didn’t he mean it was going to be raffled?

“How are you gonna pay for this?” Asks the Fat Meanie beside him.

“Uh…..Sorry?”

“You think an apology is gonna cut it? You owe us, bitch!”

The men reach out to me and….

……………..

And I find myself being auctioned off. The host of the eveing had just announce d that the next bid was me, a healthy fit young Caucasian American.

Is this even legal? I think as I swallow in fear hearing the bids knock from $2 million to higher. I got put up in place of that Winged Victory Angel.

The mere fact that someone just started the bid off at $2 million was unreal.

I could barely make through the crowd as everyone was wearing masks similar to the masquerade mask Fedora Hat had with him when his date dumped him. But somehow I felt with a sinking dread that the person who placed the initial bid was the Middle Aged Creep from before. Oh crap, is he really going to buy me? I definitely do NOT want that at all.

“$2 million, going once……going twice……”

I heard the announcer say that I’d be a slave, or a toy, or……God knows. This is horrible. I try to shake myself off this nightmare, but I know what I’m going through right now was just as real as everything that partook 12 hours ago.

Oh God, how did I get to this? I fall to my knees, hang my head in shame as I feel the tears well in my eyes start to overflow.

I start praying hoping that Charlie, or my Mom or Fran could find me before it’s too late…..

Just then….

The auction hall suddenly buzzes with commotion as the announcer stops from closing the deal.

“Seat number 100 with a bid for $20 million cash.”

The crowd is drawn into complete silence.

I peer through the gates to look for 100, but whoever was bidding was not in the crowd. All I could do was stare up at the sum of the winning bid, completely dumbfounded as a bell sounds, calling the auction to a close.

“Sold to Seat Number 100 for $20 million. Thank you!!”

Someone bought me for twenty million US dollars?

My cage is carried over to the edge of the stage. As I get off, I’m greeted by two masked men. They weren’t the mean jerks from earlier but something about them looks vaguely familiar. One of them looked to be wearing a Fedora Hat.

Fedora Hat bought me? Before I even get the chance to ask, Fedora Hat in the mask grabs my arm and says” This way….”

Wait, what the heck am I being so nervous for? At least it’s Fedora Hat who bought me and not that Middle Aged Creep. But where are they going to take me now?

And who bought me?

I feel totally numb from this crazy situation that I don’t even notice that I’m brought up into the penthouse.

I gasp in marvel looking at my surroundings, knowing that out of all the hotel employees, only Charlie and a few other managers were ever allowed to come up here.

Wait, speaking of Charlie, does he even know about those weird auctions happening at the basement?

“We brought her, boss.” Fedora Hat announces to the man in the immaculate tux seated on one of the elegant sofas. Like Fedora Hat and the other man, he was also wearing a mask, but something about him looked made me sense that I’ve also encountered this man before. Even the other man seated beside him also with a shock of black hair was also wearing a mask also seemed vaguely familiar.

“Wait. You’re----“

“We bought you,” Mr. Hargreave says indifferently, removing his mask as if he didn’t even hear what I was about to say. The other man beside him followed suit.

“Guess we did end up seeing each other again,” the Asian Mafia guy remarks in the same casual, yet cold tone.

“You know this woman, Mike?” Hargreave raises his eyebrow almost as if in disbelief.

“You can say that.” He shrugs, not really giving a toss.

“Wait. You bought me? In that auction” I stammer, trying to still make sense of it all.

“He means WE won you, Alice.” Kurt Hummel corrects as I turn around in disbelief as he removes his mask as well.

“For $20 million, Princess. The boss must have it bad.” Fedora Hat grins as he casually throws his mask and lays it on the next empty sofa.

“M-Mr. Hummel?” I squeak, not sure if I was asking if Fedora Hat was referring him as ‘the boss’ or if I was just asking a reaffirmation that I knew at least another familiar but friendly face.

“Pffft!!! She doesn’t even know you’re name, Puck.” Kurt laughs.

“That because I didn’t have the time to tell her,” the man named Puck crosses his arms as if he were a pouting kid who wasn’t included in a game of tag.

“Isn’t this some form of human trafficking? I shouldn’t have even been up for that stupid auction in the first place.”

“Hey, anything and everything’s for sale at that auction.” Puck grins matter-of-factly, completely oblivious to the fact that I had stated it being against my own free will.

“Absolutely,” Kurt agrees. “You can buy almost anything there. Like stolen art, government secrets, and even hire a hitman!”

“That was last year, wasn’t it?” Puck asked as I noticed that he and Kurt were the only chatty ones in the group while the other two men watched silently.

“Anyway, this was the first time anyone was sold off in the manner of fashion you had earlier,” Kurt says tilting his head as if trying to understand what was really going on. “You must have done something really bad to put yourself up there, huh?”

“Well…….I accidentally broke the Winged Victory Angel….” My voice trails off and I realized that something wasn’t right here. Wait a minute, weren’t they just talking about selling black market things in a legal casino that by the way just happens to be in a highly publicized area? Was this even legal at all? “Who in the world would approve of these things? Do the police even know?”

“Well, to answer question number one. I did approve of it.” Mr. Hargreave says as if bored by this whole conversation.

“What?”

“If it’s worth anything, it’s here.” Hargreave scoffs and laughs coldly.

“Reckless as always,” Mike shakes his head. “This woman isn’t even worth anything.”

“Think about it for a moment,” Hargreave looks at me up and down as he folds his arms looking at me as if he were the predator toying with his prey. “Won’t it be fun coming up with ways to use her?”

“What gives you the right to decide that?” I ask exasperated.

“Who gave you permission to speak?” Hargreave asks coldly, merely raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Not another word unless I. SAY. SO.” Hargreave says, savoring the last three words, enunciating them slowly as if threatening me to not disobey him.

“If you’ve got a problem, we could always send you back to be auctioned off.” Mike sneers as if finding this even more amusing.

These guys are so scary. I’d rather die first than be sold off again.

I shake my head looking at both men, pleading them that I won’t disobey.

“Come on Boss……Mike……You two should be nice to the girls,” Puck quips, trying to lighten the mood, but honestly it fell a bit flat. Not that I’d feel better either way.

“We need to figure out who gets to keep her,” Kurt says, as if now he’s the one who was bored by the whole turn of the conversation. Though he acts as if he wants everything finalized, I get the feeling that he’s not entirely happy with the idea of having me for a slave. In fact, he looks rather…….reluctant. I’ve heard rumors that Mr. Hummel was gay, but I didn’t think now would have been the best times to actually confirm that. So instead I ask the second question that’s been nagging me.

“What do you mean, who gets to keep me? Didn’t you all buy me?”

“Yes, that’s true. But that’s really not your concern now.” Puck says. “If I were you, I’d choose me. I’m the only good guy here, so you can rest easy.”

“Says the world-famous thief and con-artist,” Elian Hargreave snorts derisively.

“Now, now Elian, you’re just trying to make Puck look bad.” Kurt says as if coming to his friends defense. “You’ve already got tons of groupies, why don’t you just play with one of them and let the rest of us have our fun?”

And to think I thought Kurt Hummel was safe because I assumed he was gay.

Guess again, batman.

“Mike Chang’s the one who could have his pick,” Hargreave threw a smirk towards the cool Asian mobster guy’s direction. “Women would do anything to be the lover of a Hong Kong mobster.”

So he really was part of the Mafia.

Who ARE these people? I’m speechless but I try to pull myself together and try to shake some last-minute common sense in them.

“Human trafficking IS illegal, you know. I’m going to report this to the police and I don’t care who you are.”

“You see a cop anywhere?” Elian Hargreave throws his head as if calling out to no one in particular. I follow his gaze and see a worn-out looking man standing by the window smoking a cigarette. He looks to be the older of the bunch, probably around 35 in age. Rather good-looking, in fact he sort of reminds me of that guy who plays a thief on TV except that he looks disheveled and hasn’t shaved in a week.

“Damn it, don’t just blow my cover like that,” he groans as if he didn’t even want to be a part of this conversation.

“Better now than later, right Detective Cooper?” Kurt giggles as if enjoying himself.

“Shut up, Hummel.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean. Just because I’m dating your brother doesn’t mean you have to be so rude.”

“Wait, you’re a cop?” I ask incredulously, ignoring the fact that Kurt Hummel just confirmed he was openly gay.

“Yup.” Apparently, the Detective spoke the fewest words possible.

I seriously CAN NOT believe that even the police are in on this.

“Well, it looks like we’re not going to reach a decision any time soon.” Kurt announces, really emphasizing on the obvious.

“Well Boss, at times like these….” Puck begins but Elian Hargreave cuts him off immediately.

“Right. I don’t want to waste anymore time.” Hargreave nods and stands up with Mike Chang following suit. All the men except for the Detective stand up and saunter over to me with Mr. Hargreave standing in the center of the group with his arms crossed looking down at me with cold eyes.

“Make a decision,” he says. “I’ll let you choose who buys you.”

---END---

Elian Hargreave. Be ready to hear more of another Hargreave, Elian was just the prototype of my OC in the next series of fanfics.

#glee #glee fanfiction #quinn fabray #voltage otome #otome guys #kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #kbtbb eisuke #kbtbb soryu #kbtbb baba #mike chang #kurt hummel #noah puckerman #kbtbb ota

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ephemeralem0tions · 7 years ago

Note

Hi! I would love a LeviHan fic - perhaps a modern AU at a house/dorm party with games? Thanks!

Thank you for sending in the very first request! Yay! Of course, your wish is my command ;) so here! Have a dose of Levihan!

Some Shitty Boyfriend (LeviHan AU - House party)

Theme: House/ Dorm Party

Rating: PG

Warning: Has curse words, Mention of Cannabis and Beer

Summary: When Hanji and Levi partake in the game of Never Have I Ever, he discovers things about her and even deeper.

For the twelfth time around, he made his way through the crowd, bumping, shoving and pushing sweat covered bodies which he thought was hell.

He would have never went to this fiasco if ‘Eyebrows’ had not bribed him with a month’s supply of tea and Windex. ‘It would be fun’ he said, yet it was nothing but suffocating to him. The stench of booze, smoke and perspiration was enough torture to him, yet it did not end there. His clean freak side was ticking like a time bomb, ready to wipe away all the crumbs of food, spilled vodka, and occasional stains of vomit on the carpet any moment.

He needed some space, yet outside was not an option as some people smoked pot in the backyard or made out on the porch swing. The bathroom was not available as well as it would be filled by either disoriented horny people, or those that starting puking out of all the alcohol they consumed. The rooms upstairs would be a danger zone as well, who knows which room was vacant or not?

He continued making his way out of the 'dance floor’ which could be seen as a tiny living room any other day. He thought Mike’s house wouldn’t be able to hold a huge crowd, but he was proven wrong. It seemed like every single crevice of the small flat had been useful, with the owner probably already too drunk to recognize that his place could blow up any minute with all the people in it.

“Levi!” He heard Erwin’s voice as soon as he made it out alive from the maze of people. He had ended up in the kitchen where there were surprisingly very few people.

“I’m actually surprised he had not stormed off to leave soon” Nanaba laughed handing a newly opened bottle of beer to a drunkard and shooing him away. They must’ve kept people away from the kitchen and gathered here. Everyone also seemed sober, except for Mike who was always drunk out of his mind whenever there is liquor laying around.

“Erwin hid my keys” he answered with a 'tsk’

“I knew you would leave the second I take my eyes off of you. I wouldn’t give you compensation of tea and Windex anyway if you just go here for a minute and leave” he rolled his eyes at the man.

“Werr- since you here Revi- come pray wif us” Mike slurred attempting to open another bottle of beer before Nanaba stole it out of his grasp.

“What he means is play. Get yourself together Mike!” She groaned. The two had not opened up about their relationship but everyone else was sure that they were getting there if they aren’t there.

“I’m not participating in your shitty game” he sat down on one of the stools near the counter.

“Sorry I was late! Ohh- sorry” the familiar voice boomed as she pulled her foot from the crowd behind her.

“Ohh Hanji, its nice of you to join us dear. I thought you’d be stuck forever in our dorm” Nanaba welcomed her

“As much as I want to continue my research about the healthy benefits of cannabis oil for our final thesis before we graduate, I want to spend a few hours with my friends. Oh hi Levi!” She explained, greeting him in the latter and facing him with a smile while she waved.

“Tsk, shitty glasses. You smell like shit. Tell me you took a bath after crapping” he told her partly expecting a non- favorable answer.

“As a matter of fact I did not. But its nice to see you adapting and surviving in a new habitat where clean freaks like you would’ve been extinct any moment” she shot back at him.

“Hanji!- pray wif us!” Mike asked her.

“You mean play right?” She cleared out, earning a nod from Nanaba. “Depends on what game”

“Its Never have I ever. Erwin wanted to play Poker but Mike insisted he wanted some booze game” Nanaba explained

“Alright then, I’ll just call Moblit to pick us up if we get drunk” she laughed. “You’re playing too Levi!” She shot him a 'dead serious look’. Levi remembered she was another heavy drinker, yet her tolerance was lowest among them. He on the other hand, would not get drunk no matter how many cups of beer you would give him, a fact that always fascinated Hanji. She would take any chance to get him drunk so she could observe but always failed to do so as she would get drunk first and forget about the whole ordeal.

“Alright then!” Nanaba clapped her hands and prepared shot glasses from the cupboard and bottles of beer enough for everyone. “So the rule is take a shot if you’ve done it. I’ll start, never have I ever cut my own hair”

Levi took a shot and looked at everyone around him if they had done the same. Only Hanji tipped her head back a bit, drinking the contents of the glass in front of her before refilling it for the next round.

“Never have I ever kiss- somebodeh” Mike slurred prolonging the ’s’ of the kiss before taking a swig. Nanaba and Erwin shortly followed him while Hanji and Levi stayed still.

“Never have I ever went to the parlor and got my eyebrows fixed” Erwin took a shot right after he spoke and looked at the others who only looked at him back amused. “No one did it too? Levi, your eyebrows look well kept too. Thin, but well kept”

“Unlike you I don’t give a shit about mine” he replied while the others chuckled

“You can go next” Erwin laughed at him.

“Never have I ever wanted to take a shit but my crap seemed to be having a shitty day and won’t come out” he watched as everyone else took a shot.

“Everyone becomes constipated at least once in their life Levi” Hanji stated.

“Must be the product of all the cleansing tea if he had not experienced it” Erwin followed shortly but he only looked at the man bored.

“Never have I ever fallen in love” Hanji stated, almost as if it was a whisper. He wasn’t shocked to see Nanaba and Mike drink, as well as Erwin as he had Marie, yet he was surprised to see Hanji drink.

“Oi shitty glasses! Don’t recall you having a shitty boyfriend” he called her out.

“I don’t need a shitty boyfriend to be in love” she responded. “I can stay silent if I want to”. There was something about her eyes, as if they wanted to say something to him. They looked lonely and longing for something, something he could not quite get.

“Don’t worry Hanji, whoever this lucky man is, he would probably come around soon” Nanaba assured her with a pat on the back.

“I don’t expect him to, but if he would, then it would be a cup of tea” she laughed directing her stare back to him once more. He furrowed his eyes in confusion.

“You don’t even like tea four eyes” he shot at her only to earn a small hum before Nanaba spoke and continued the game.

“-And I was pretty sure that cannabis oil would be beneficial because I interviewed an epileptic person who uses it to stop his seizures and saw it with my own eyes that it works when he tested it. But I’m also sure we cannot legalize selling it in the market because people would make it an excuse to get high!” He heaved her up as her weight seemed to shift to him more each minute that passed by. It didn’t help that the woman was about ten centimeters taller than him, making her slump down to him occasionally.

Just as they thought they can count on her lab partner to get her home, she had realized she left her phone in their dorm when she was already drunk. Nanaba had decided to stay the night at Mike’s house and help him once the morning comes while Erwin had already gone his own way. He was left to take care of Hanji and bring her back safely as he would pass it anyway on his way home to his own apartment.

Like any other moment when she was drunk, she’s ramble about facts or thought she had stuffed inside the huge brain of hers. She was indeed smart, a scholar of their university, but in times like these, her smart ass can be annoying. Babbling about things no normal human being can understand, but then again, their clique couldn’t be considered normal. That’s why they were all friends in the first place.

He placed her on the passenger seat and clicked the seat belt in place. He sure didn’t want the damn mad woman jumping out the window of his old Sedan when he drove. He jogged over to the driver’s side and trued to start the ignition for about three times before it finally roared to life. His company had been unusually quiet for the past seconds, she had only been staring at him which he tried to brush off, yet her doe eyes kept on bothering him as a pout started to form on her lips as well.

“What do you want?” He asked her groaning, revving the engine momentarily so it doesn’t stop halfway along the road.

“Levi, what big eyes you have” she mumbled making him sigh and finally drive out of Mike’s house.

“I can say the same for you four eyes” he responded keeping his eyes on the road.

“What big nose you have” she chuckled.

“Not as ridiculous as your fucking bird nose” he shot back.

“What small height you have” she whispered with a smile.

“Are you shitting with me shitty glasses?” He asked turning his direction to her and pulling out to the side of the road just before they left the street of their place of departure.

“I just love teasing you” she faced him with a taunting smile.

“Just shut up and crap all the shit out tomorrow, maybe out of your mouth or something” he hissed facing the road again and starting to drive once more.

Their banter was replaced with silence for the next ten minutes, her stare still never left him as they drove through the city, lights complementing Levi’s face in her sight every time they passed a street post.

“God I’m so in love” she blurted out, clearly something she wouldn’t remember the next day.

“To your imaginary shitty boyfriend?” He asked. Surprisingly, he was interested yet he did not know why.

“No he’s real” she smiled directing her gaze to outside her side of the window and leaning there.

“As if someone would ask a slob like you out” he 'tsked’ with the though of some other man asking her out. But why was he so worked up about it?

“Yeah you’re right” she sighed. “I don’t expect a short clean freak like him to like me” his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’m not asking for him to love me back. But I am thankful” she faced him while he pulled the break right in front of her dorm building. “Thankful that at least for one night, we drove through the city at exactly 60 kilometers per hour while I admired him through the lights and fell deeper in love for him”

He felt like his heart would burst any moment. It wasn’t the first time when he felt like his heart beat was irregular and racing, he felt it when he was in danger or when he is in fear, yet this was different. He was unsure and confused of what he was feeling, but more importantly, he couldn’t understand why she had such an effect on him.

“You asked me if I wanted something awhile ago right?” she reminded as he pulled the breaks to stop right in front of her dorm building. “I want Levi to be my shitty boyfriend” she stated, leaving his mouth agape in surprise as she exited the car and walked down the pavement.

He couldn’t muster out any words, he was shit at that anyways and he knew it. He was lost, trying to calm down the strange feeling down his chest. He watched as her silhouette grew fainter, darker, and finally disappeared. But what intrigued him more, was the way she walked; straight and normal, as if she wasn’t drunk at all.

#Levihan #requested #very first request omfg thank you very much! I had fun writing this #please send more so I could be productive while I'm on break #LevixHanji #Levi #Ackerman #Hanji #Zoe #SNK #AOT #fanfiction #oneshot #shitty glasses #clean freak #prompt

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rauliskafan · 8 years ago

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A Little Lesson in Joy: Part Two

Authors’ Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all of the beautiful mommies out there one and all!!! The time has come for Rafael and Natalia to welcome two new Barbas into the world!!! But naturally there will be some drama first!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I so hope that you enjoy!!!

“Guess we’re having the reception at the hospital.”

Despite Fin’s lame attempt at a joke, Rafael instantaneously shifted into frantic father mode. Snatching the bouquet from Natalia’s palms, he tossed the flowers to Rollins.

“Now you’re the bride, Barba?” Rollins quipped.

“Does this mean that you’re next in line, Amanda?” Carisi teased. Focusing on them for the smallest of seconds, Rafael saw the other detective blush, but just as quickly turned his attention back to his wife.

Yet he still heard them speaking...

“Sonny, this is not the time or the---”

“I’m only fooling around, Amanda,” he said.

“It does mean that someone else has to get married, Momma,” Jesse pointed out as Rollins groaned, and Lucia said the flowers looked like a perfect fit in her hands.

“Can we all please focus on the fact that my wife is in labor?” Rafael’s voice rose an octave, and he winded one arm around Natalia’s shoulders, his hands finding their way to hers as she clutched her belly…

…and softly laced her fingers in his.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, shooting him a quick smile. “I... I kind of wanted them at the wedding. Guess they sensed that much.”

“And I think they’d appreciate it if their father was a bit more civil in the presence of his friends,” Lucia said. Rolling his eyes at his mother, Rafael turned away from her, not in any mood for her words of wisdom.

And no chance of saying anything else when Alessia rushed forward.

“Oh, Natty!” Alessia cried, taking hold of her free hand. “We should have waited. Or done it sooner. But I didn’t---”

“It’s on me,” Trevor cut in. “We should have eloped or---”

“Well I wouldn’t have wanted that,” Alessia said.

“Me neither,” Natalia said. “It... it was a lovely ceremony. And I… I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the…”

But they were going to miss the reception. Her legs wobbled, and she breathed deeply. Rafael continued to ease her towards the door, suddenly surrounded by every other guest.

“How you doing?” Fin asked. “You okay?”

“We’re going to get you to the hospital in no time flat,” Liv promised.

“Are you still doing that water birth thing?” Dodds inquired.

“Mike, I told you that Natty didn’t want that,” Maggie moaned.

“But Barba made me read this whole article that---”

“Stop talking!” Rafael said. Every other set of eyes narrowed, and he swallowed hard in an effort to compose himself. “I... you’re upsetting Natalia.”

“Me? I’m okay, Atticus. You need to grab a drink at the bar or something before we head out?”

“Now?” he asked. “Are you serious? Should I order up some extra pineapple for the---?”

“Oh!”

Natalia’s cry put an end to the argument before it even started.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Stupid thing to say.”

“But not… not entirely without merit. A fruit salad would hit the spot.”

“Will it help?” he asked. “I’ll get it for you if you think that---”

“No,” Natalia said with a heavy sigh. “We have to keep moving.”

Counting the steps and trying to figure how far apart the contractions already were, Rafael felt Carisi at his side.

“If it’s anything like Little V, time is of the essence,” the detective said with a quick glance at his watch.

“Was I in a hurry, Tio Sonny?” Violetta asked, following close behind him Harold in tow, her eyes wide and her stare fixed on her mother’s face.

“You were really early, Little V,” he continued. “Two months before time.”

“Then why my sisters such slow pokes?” she asked.

“This is better,” he assured her. “Safer. See, for a human, the gestation period should be---”

“Not the time for a health lesson, Carisi!” Rafael hissed through gritted teeth. Natalia started to shush him when she gasped, and her body twisted in a fit of pain. Sitting her in the nearest chair, Rafael fell to his knees and ran his hands up and down her legs, stretching up to kiss her temple. Catching her breath, Natalia smiled and bowed her head towards his lips.

“We’re going to miss the cake,” she whispered. “It is the best part of any wedding.”

“Even ours?” he asked, trying to steady his own breathing.

“Wouldn’t you like to---?”

Her body bent, and her head was on his shoulder. No time to flirt. To tease. Leaning closer, Rafael found her ear.

“I’m with you,” he promised. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Don’t you dare,” Natalia murmured. “You wouldn’t… I don’t want you to miss this.”

“And I won’t,” he promised. “Nothing is going to keep me away.”

Rollins suggested calling a bus. Which Liv vetoed in favor of using the siren that she already had at her disposal to beat the traffic.

“Would that thing work on a limousine, Lieutenant?” Trevor asked.

“I… I don’t see why not.” The groom’s grin expanded. Giving Natalia a quick peck and rushing outside into the cold, he made like a man on a mission and returned with the good news, the grand plan.

“The chariot is ready for the princesses!” he declared.

Settled in the back of the stretch limo, Natalia rested her head against Rafael’s chest. Maggie massaged her legs, and Alessia sat on the floor of the rolling car in her flowing gown while Violetta kept watch nestled between Trevor and Dodds.

“I going to have to have a talk with these girls bout timing,” Violetta said.

“Now, Violetta,” Trevor began. “Let’s be nice.”

“Don’t be like the broken ABBA record,” Violetta said, making Natalia laugh at the fact that they had already worn out the vinyl before the twins even arrived. “I more than ready to meet them. But it not polite to crash the party.”

“I don’t know about that,” Trevor joked. “For one thing, I’m not going to have any trouble remembering my anniversary.”

He nearly winked at his new wife when Alessia’s face tightened.

“Because it was going to be so hard for you otherwise?” she asked. “I thought you waited the better part of your life to marry me.”

“I…”

With his hands on Natalia’s shoulders, Rafael’s eyes danced between his in-laws, Alessia’s rage filling the car and causing the mood to shift to the point where even Natalia seemed to forget the matter at hand until Maggie chuckled, and all eyes were on her.

“What’s so funny?” Alessia asked.

“It’s your first married fight,” she sighed. “Your honeymoon is bound to be an epic makeup session.”

“They just say sorry, Tia Maggie,” Violetta said. “Like when I make mistake. What so special bout that?”

“Well…”

She peered into Dodds’ eyes, and Alessia smiled.

“Maggie might be on to something,” the bride blushed.

“Not in front of our granddaughter,” Trevor gently chided.

“What you two mean?” Violetta asked as her Mami sucked in another breath.

“Sweet pea, I’ll tell you all about it when---”

“Enough!” Rafael said. “Now it’s sex ed? Is this really happening. Ow!”

Maggie reached over her sister’s legs to pinch him, and the ballerina laughed in the wake of his glare.

“Obviously not a dream, counselor,” she said. “Now how about you calm down?”

“I like that idea,” Natalia said. “I think it’s the most brilliant thing that I’ve… that I’ve ever…”

But she moaned again, and Rafael buried his head in her neck as the car fell silent save for the motor and the rolling of the wheels against the pavement.

“Hermosa, try not to talk if it hurts too---”

“Oh no,” Natalia warned him. “Do not tell me to be quiet while I’m doing this. I’ll make… I’ll make as much noise as I want.”

“I never said that you couldn’t,” he said. “But how… how much does it hurt, hermosa?” he asked.

“We want you calm, remember,” Natalia said.

“Why can’t this damn thing move any faster?”

Gently laying Natalia on the seat, Rafael scrambled past Alessia to bang on the partition.

“You have a siren and some of the city’s finest right on your tail,” he said. “Hit the gas!”

“Sure thing!” the driver called back. Suddenly the car jerked through the traffic, and Rafael went flying back, banging his head against window and coming to rest just shy of Maggie’s heel.

“Counselor! Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. I have to be…”

His voice trailed off as his vision began to blur. Rafael felt Violetta leave her seat to join him on the ground, trying to turn Harold into a pillow. The hippo’s plush belly provided some comfort as he looked to Natalia suddenly in her mother’s arms.

“Atticus?”

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m not missing it… not this time. I won’t let you…”

But he said nothing else before his world went black.

“Natty, you’re being ridiculous.”

Wheeled into the delivery room after losing Rafael in another direction, Natalia sat propped up against several pillows, hardly paying attention to her breath as the pains grew sharper, closer together, and she furiously shook her head from side to side.

“I’m not doing this without him,” she said. “Not when he’s so close by.”

“Someone just had to wear the highest heels known to man,” Rollins quipped.

“My shoes were not the culprit,” Maggie insisted. “No offense, Alessia, but that was the driver our father hired?”

“He knows him from… from the old days,” Alessia said as she fed Natalia some ice chips.

“Well I’ll have to get his number for the next time I’m in a high-speed chase with stolen diamonds on my way to the airport,” Maggie snarled.

“You hush now!” Alessia warned her.

“Really?” Maggie challenged.

“I’m your stepmother,” Alessia continued. “I have a say.”

“Didn’t think you’d go wicked so fast,” Maggie quipped.

“Will you two both shut up!” Natalia demanded, trying to keep her breath steady, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle against the laws of nature and the clock as Liv rushed into the room.

“So this is where the party’s at,” she said.

“Is Rafael alright?” Natalia asked.

“He’s fine,” Liv assured her. “Carisi’s with him. Lucia, too. And Violetta has Harold keeping vigil.”

“Where’s Noah and Jesse?” Maggie asked.

“Fin has them in the cafeteria with Trevor,” Liv said. “According to him, he’s keeping far away this time around, Natalia.”

That almost made her smile, but…

“Rafael… is he awake yet?” she asked.

“Any time now,” Liv promised. “As for you, you need to---”

Groaning as she gripped Maggie’s hand tighter, Natalia felt the perspiration coating her brow and knew the feeling all too well, her sense memory taking her back to the apartment when she was surrounded by nothing but men. Maybe the genders were reversed, but the scene was painfully familiar…

…because Rafael was nowhere to be found.

“I have to wait,” Natalia said. “He doesn’t want to miss this. I don’t want him to…”

She couldn’t finish the thought and felt the need to push. Frustrated tears mingled with the sweat trickling down her cheeks.

“I don’t know if that’s your call, Natalia,” Liv tried to soothe.

“Listen to her,” Alessia advised. “If your little ones are ready to make their debut---”

“You can hardly ask them to wait in the wings while you reset the stage,” Maggie said. “Have to keep dancing.”

But not solo. Not after it took so long to get to his point. Not when she hadn’t been sure if the babies were even Rafael’s, and the good news came to give him… to give them something of a second chance.

“I do not,” Natalia said. “I won’t push. I’ll hold these babies inside me until… until their… until their Papi…”

But as she screamed again, Natalia sadly realized that her desired course of action was far easier said than done.

“Rafi? Estas bien?”

Opening his eyes slowly and seeing a white ceiling with far too bright lights shining overhead, Rafael blinked a few times and let his most recent memories swirl to the forefront of his mind… the wedding, the limo…

“Harold’s going to get dirty if he you put her on the floor like that muñequita.”

“He’ll be alright,” Lucia said, patting Violetta’s head. The little girl sat quietly with Harold awkwardly balanced in her lap before dragging the hippo closer to the bedside

“Harold was being nice and helping, Papi,” Violetta said. “You the one so clumsy. Make Mami cry so I have to take charge.”

Her words made everything else come into focus. Natalia’s water breaking. His checkered socks still felt damp. Trying to sit up, Rafael could not resist the pillows and startled at the feel of a hand atop his head with something surrounding the wrist…

“Carisi? The watch is not helping.”

“You say that now, counselor,” the detective started. “But according to this, Natalia’s contractions are like less than a minute apart. And Dodds and I are in constant contact, so you’ll know the second that---”

Less than a minute? No… no that meant that the babies, his babies were set to come into the world at any second. And he wasn’t locked away in a world of shadows with no hope of making it out to the other side in the nick of time. He was here. At that thought, he began to rise

“Counselor?” Carisi cautioned. “Do you think that---?”

“Do you think that I would let her go through this alone when I’m in the same fucking hospital?”

“Language, Rafi,” Lucia chided, rolling her eyes.

“Lo siento,” Rafael said even as he still abandoned the gurney, pulling up his pants and stuffing his arms into his coat over a hospital gown. “But I have to be there. With her.”

Taking one step, he stumbled. Lucia begged him to get back in bed, but Rafael would not be swayed.

“It okay, abuelita!” Violetta said. “Me and Harold help!”

Which constituted pushing at the back of his legs and gritting her teeth, almost losing Harold to the tiles in the process as Rafael began to wilt…

…until Carisi came to the rescue.

“What are you---?”

“I know it’s important,” he said. “Come on, counselor.”

Dragging him from the room as Lucia took Violetta and Harold into her arms, they turned the corner to find both Dodds waiting.

“Shouldn’t he be lying down?” the Chief asked.

“Papi need to be with Mami!” Violetta cried. “You two helping or what?”

“Helping,” they said in unison. The elder Dodds reached into an empty room for a wheelchair, and Carisi set Rafael down.

“Make tracks, counselor?” the detective asked as Violetta and Harold crawled into her Papi’s lap.

“Burn rubber, Tio Sonny!” she said. And they raced passed a mass of doctors and nurses looking as strange as the Sisters of Plentitude or the Face of Boe as they raced down the corridors to the only destination that mattered.

“Natalia?”

Liv and Rollins bordered her sides as her mother and her sister kept rubbing her legs. The doctor said there was no more time. But Natalia needed so many more seconds. She needed to turn back the clock and keep Rafael seated as the limo turned the corner. So he would be here now. Her eyes kept shifting to the door as she struggled to hold off the inevitable, feeling her babies longing to enter the world, wanting to see them so much…

“Natalia?”

“Liv, I need Rafael. Where is he? You said that he would be---”

“Hold up!”

She flinched as a wheelchair barreled into the room, and Natalia could not speak as Violetta and Harold flew to the bed to nestle in the crook of her arm.

“Atticus?”

And her husband stumbled towards her in an absurd state of dress, his eyes glazed but his smile intact as he brought her under his arm.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I told you I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You didn’t,” Natalia muttered through her falling tears as she parted her chapped lips in search of his kiss. Rafael held her closer, his hand on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Chief and Dodds shake hands as Liv and Rollins rolled their eyes.

“You want to get in the bed and have the baby, too?” Liv asked.

Maggie laughed as her husband’s face went white, but Carisi focused on his watch again.

“Any minute now. Natalia, are you---?”

“Enough!”

The doctor, a small man with light brown hair stepped away from the edge of the bed and threw up his hands.

“There are way too many people in here!” he exclaimed. “This is not how it’s done!”

“That a fact?” Liv challenged, flashing her badge and prompting the others carrying shields to make the same move. The doctor began to wilt when Natalia raised her arm.

“It’s okay, Liv,” she said. “Thank you for… for staying with me. But Atticus is here now.”

Even in his weakened state, her smile filled him with pride, and the others glared at the doctor until there was only Liv and Violetta… and Harold left in the room.

“Aren’t you taking the little one?” the doctor asked.

“When she’s ready,” Liv said. Rafael thanked her with a small smile, and Violetta touched her tiny hands to her Mami’s face.

“Hazel and Holly come now,” Violetta said with utter certainty.

“Yes, sweet pea,” Natalia said. “You… please go with Tia Olivia. I promise you two brand new sisters when I see you again.”

Holding his tongue, Rafael waited and watched as Violetta appeared to consider the proposal and finally nodded her head.

“I be waiting, Mami,” Violetta said. “With Harold. You tell my sisters that. But also tell them they owe me cake.”

Kissing her mother, Violetta hauled the hippo into Liv’s waiting arms, and as the door closed, Rafael gazed down at his wife.

“Are you really okay?” she asked.

“Now that I’m with you, nothing is wrong.”

Sighing gratefully into his shoulder, Natalia nearly went limp until he found her hand clutching the sheets and stared down at her face.

“Good. Because they... I can’t wait any…”

He startled when she shot up and screamed, the doctor crouching at the edge of the bed as she ignored every method of breathing that he had studied far more carefully than any legal brief. Rubbing her back and letting his lips dot her damp hair, Rafael watched her face contort as her eyes closed and she gave a great cry.

“Here we go, Mrs. Barba. Just one more…”

The doctor’s voice was drowned out by the song of squeals. Looking over Natalia’s knees, Rafael’s eyes widened when he saw a small being wet with even tinier fists clenched, ready to take on the world as she was whisked away to be cleaned up.

“My God,” he muttered. “That’s… that’s our…”

“That’s Hazel,” Natalia said, her head falling back into the pillows. “Is she alright?”

Her screams filled the room, and she kicked up a storm.

“She’s perfect,” Rafael said. “Hermosa, we... we did that.”

“A beautiful baby…”

She stopped short as she bolted up again, her arms winding around Rafael’s middle as she looked into his eyes, her breaths sharp.

“It… it cuts both ways,” she said.

“What do you mean, hermosa?”

“I... I can’t breathe without you either.”

At that he remembered to exhale and saw her face curl into concentration until another voice mingled with Hazel’s. Holly taking her first breaths, and Rafael watched both of his new girls from afar until his lips fell to Natalia’s.

“You did it,” he said. “You were amazing.”

“Only because I have you,” Natalia said. “I knew you’d come. I… I waited…”

“No more waiting, hermosa. Look.”

Two bundles were carried to the bedside, Hazel coming to rest in Rafael’s arms as Holly settled against her Mami’s chest. The youngest girl cooed lightly as Natalia’s finger found her chin, and Rafael sat transfixed as his girls gurgled, their eyes still closed to the world.

“They’re beautiful,” he said. “Like you.”

“Like you,” Natalia mused. “Like Violetta. I’m so happy you’re here for this.”

He almost told her that it didn’t matter. That the miracle of seeing their first moments had nothing on first steps and words and watching them become little people, each ready to take on the world. If they were truly carbon copies of their big sister in that sense, it meant a household where he didn’t stand a chance against so much strength of will, so much splendor mingled with sweetness.

And yet…

“So am I, mi hermosa flor,” he said. “Thank you for giving me everything that I ever wanted.”

Natalia shed a single tear and kissed her babies one after the other. Like that time seemed to stand still, as if nothing in this world or any other parallel universe could ever be more perfect…

…until the twins opened their eyes at the same moment, welcoming a world full of so many possibilities all because of their parents’ everlasting love.

#raul esparza #rafael barba #natalia barba #violetta barba #olivia benson #dominick sonny carisi #maggie dodds #lucia barba #a hard lesson series #little lessons #law and order svu #svu fanfiction

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