#petey: cool blue water

[ncvaxchen]

@surepetey

"And it was cold. I've never touched water that wasn't artificially cooled before. I wasn't even sure it could come out of the ground like that." She's all but regaled Petey with her stories of the spring Max had showed her. But, it was hard not to when she felt as if she had discovered something so unbelievable that it deserved to be shouted from the rooftops. Though, Nova was sure if too many people found out about the little spring, Max would hate that. So Nova would satiate her desire to talk about it with Petey.

[panickinganakin]

stepping stones to hell ch. 5 (ronance fic)

hello!! all previous chapters can be found here!

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Robin splashed cold water over her face then dried it with a towel. Sleeping on the tour bus was so hard which made waking up when she was able to sleep in her own bed rough. She stared at herself in the mirror, studying the bags under her eyes. She was supposed to meet Nancy at one and not intended to sleep until eleven. It just sort of happened. 

She brushed her teeth then made her way back into her room. As much as she loved touring and playing shows, she loved being home. 

The band had been fortunate enough to start making very very good money. The first thing she had done was buy a small house on a bit of private land. She had put a lot of thought and work into decorating her space so it really felt like her home. 

Her bedroom consisted of various things. She had a king sized bed with black silk sheets and red pillows. She had a large framed movie poster for Back To The Future with the same guitar Marty played at the prom mounted on the wall next to it. On the left side of the room was a large dark brown wooden dresser. 

On top of the dresser was a jewelry box shaped like a coffin, a gift from Eddie that he handmade himself. On the inside of the coffin were places to hang necklaces and earrings. But on the door he had painted the date she had joined the band in small pink numbers. 

Though she wasn’t the greatest plant mom, she did have a small cactus sitting in the window sill as well. Succulents didn’t need much attention so it was easy to keep this alive while touring.

Her closet was a decent size which was good since she collected lots of silly t’s while on tour. Anytime they were able to stop and explore a city she always looked for some sort of cheesy shirt or hat. 

Typically though, Robin would have chosen her favorite David Bowie shirt because she wore it everywhere. However she didn’t wash the shirt before they left for tour. So, she instead grabbed some jeans and a Goonies t-shirt. 

She brushed out her hair and decided to wear a navy blue ball cap free of bad jokes. She was about to head out the door when her phone started to ring. She hurried to the kitchen to pick it up, “Hello?” 

“Hey!” Steve’s voice came from the other end. “I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and I’m proud of you. What you’re doing today is a big deal.” 

Robin’s posture softened and she managed to choke out, “Thanks, Steve. I love you, too.” 

“Okay, well. Be safe, I’ll see you in a couple days. Call me if you need anything, bye!” 

“Bye,” she said before hanging the phone back on the wall. 

She took a few minutes to water her plants that weren’t succulents which by some miracle had also survived while she was away. She really needed to make friends with the closest neighbor so she had someone keeping an eye on things. 

She heard the clock in the living room ding which meant it was twelve. She had an hour until it was time to meet Nancy and had about a forty minute drive. “Shit,” she sighed, grabbing her car keys off the wall.  

Robin never really got better at driving. She actually hated it and reminisced frequently on the days Steve chauffeured her around. She hated being behind the wheel with so many cars on the road. Too many people honking, not enough people using blinkers. It was stressful. 

The one thing that got her through driving every time was her trusted cassette. The Cranberries’ album Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We. She never changed it. It was her true comfort, not to mention she believed now that if she tried to change it she would wreck or something wild would happen. Not that that surprised her, she had been superstitious since she was a child. However, being self aware of that fact didn’t mean she could change it. 

The closer she was to arriving at Petey’s, the more anxious she felt. Even though it was a cool day outside her palms were sweating. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. This is the right thing to do. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to shout your truth. 

Robin reminded herself that every single person she truly loved already knew and they still loved her. She hated that she even felt like this was a struggle. She was proud to be herself. Though it had been a long and hard journey, Robin loved herself. It was just the things instilled in her when she was younger that left herself under lock and key. 

She took deep breaths as she pulled into the parking lot. You are okay. She reminded herself. 

She stared at the building and watched a small group of people leave. At least this would be in Nancy’s hands. Though they hadn’t had a continued friendship through the years, Robin knew she could trust her. 

She got out of the car and looked around the parking lot. She wondered what Nancy drove or if she was here yet. “Robin!” She heard her name being called behind her. 

She turned to see Nancy standing at the door, waving. “Hey!” Robin followed her inside the cafe. 

Robin forgot how much she missed this place every time she came home. She looked around, admiring the new menu. The last time she had been in was spring time so the chalk menu had flowers, easter eggs and was done in bright pink and purple colors. Now that they were on the cusp of Fall the menu was brown, red and orange. There were pumpkins in the bottom corner of the menu with a ghost in the center. 

 “I have a table in the back,” Nancy stated as they walked through the establishment. 

Nancy already had her pen, paper and voice recorder out. They took their seats and Nancy smiled at Robin, “How was sleeping in a real bed?” 

Robin groaned, “You have no idea how awful those stupid tour beds are.” 

“I know how much I hate sleeping in motels for work so bus beds have to be worse.” She sipped at the white mug on the table. 

“Do you drink your coffee black?” Robin asked, a bit disturbed after noticing the contents of Nancy’s mug lacked any color. 

Nancy raised an eyebrow at Robin, “How do you drink yours?” 

“Definitely sugar and half and half. I prefer a fun little flavor, maybe like mocha or something.” 

Nancy nodded her head, “That checks out.” 

Robin scoffed, pretending to act offended. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

She laughed and shook her head, “Nothing. It’s just.. Well, you look like someone who couldn’t stomach black coffee.” 

Robin rolled her eyes but smiled as a woman approached their table, “Good afternoon. Would you like to order anything?” 

“Just a coffee, lots of cream and chocolate please.” 

The girl nodded before parting quickly. “Now, Robin Buckley, drummer of sensational band Corroded Coffin who, if I may add, is taking the world by storm. What are the things you must tell me?” 

Robin was enjoying the side of Nancy. The times they had spent were during scary and traumatic events. There was little room for humor then so this change was nice. “Right into, huh?” Robin asked, starting to feel nervous again. 

“Well I’m just so curious what it is that has you wanting to waste time with me on your two days home.” 

Robin tilted her head, “If I wasn’t here I’d be home alone watching the same movies I always do.” 

“Fair enough. I guess I’m just curious.” 

The waitress came back with a purple mug and handed it to Robin who thanked her. She sipped on the coffee for a moment, debating on how to start the conversation. She tapped the handle of the cup before taking a breath. “Okay, so. I know the article is about me being a woman and my success but also the struggles I’ve faced just because I’m a woman.” She paused and Nancy nodded for her to continue. 

As Nancy tapped the ink pen against the page Robin noticed her nails were painted green which was Robin’s favorite color. She wondered what Nancy’s favorite color was. Then she knew she was distracting herself instead of just saying it. “Okay. Fine. It’s more than just being a woman in the industry. It’s being a queer woman. I’m gay. I’m a lesbian. And I know, I know I haven’t been out. So, I know it’s unfair to say I’ve faced struggles as someone who is in the closet but I have had my own obstacles. I know how hard it is to be gay during times like these. I have been terrified to speak my truth and be myself. You and Steve both said yesterday to just be me and I can’t do that if I’m too much of a coward to say it. I have been at protests and I’ve labeled myself an ally but it is so so much more than that.” 

Robin paused to take a breath. It felt good to say it. Nancy was staring at her, pen unmoving. She blinked slowly then nodded her head, encouraging Robin to continue. “I have been scared my whole life of living my truth and I’m done hiding. I want people to know. I want my fans to know that I’m proud of myself and them. I want them to know if they’re gay it isn’t abnormal. It isn’t all the cruel things people say in the media. It just is. C’est comme ça.” 

Nancy took another drink of her coffee. Her eyes told Robin she was searching for something to say. “This is a big deal. So let me say, I’m proud of you. Let me also say-“ 

Robin couldn’t help but interrupt her. She was scared Nancy was going to shoot the idea down. “I know this is a sensitive topic. I know that it can cause a lot of backlash to She Supremacy. I know this but Nancy, this is so important to me.” 

“Robin, this is important to me too.” She laid a hand over her heart, “I am honored you trust me with this. You’re right, this is a sensitive topic. It’s your livelihood and of course you are going to receive backlash. However, we all have. It’s part of it. But, the good it brings will outweigh anything bigots say. You will be happier. You can love freely. And also, you have the ability to save people with this information. I know you know how scary being gay can be simply because there are people who hate you just for existing. She Supremacy is a safe space. We will run your story. I just want to make sure this is what you want. This is your privacy. But, like I said, you sharing your story could help so many people.” 

Robin let out a breath of relief. Nancy seemed to understand so well. “I’m hoping it does. I know what having Elton John did for me and I just want to be able to help.” 

“I think it’s very brave of you. I would love to write this in.” She paused for a drink of her coffee, “So, do you want to come out in the article or casually mention that you’re a queer artist? We can do the big thing or be subtle.” 

Robin closed her eyes in thought. She had never been good with words. But, Nancy Wheeler was better than good with words, she practically owned them. “I… Think you should write it. I think however you can word it best. I want to be out. I have been to a few protests and stuff but, I want them to know I’m fighting for them and me too.” 

“I have some ideas. It will take me a couple of days to write and I know you will leave soon. Here,” she ripped off a scrap of her paper and scribbled a number down on it. “Call me by Tuesday, it should be done by then. I’ll be home after two, so anytime after that. I’ll read it to you and you can let me know what to do.” 

Robin pocketed the phone number and sighed. She leaned back in her chair. She had never felt so free in her life. She was going to finally be herself. 

Nancy packed up her things into a brown satchel. “I’m really excited for this. I think it’s going to be a hit. And, not like in the way I want to profit off you,” she started to rush her words. “I don’t mean that. I just want it to reach more people because what we do is important.” She squeezed her eyes shut then laughed lightly. “Sorry, I just wanted to be clear. I didn’t want you to think I was using you or something. This story, your story, is very important to me.”

Robin smiled genuinely, “Thank you, Nancy. This means so much to me.” 

She stood from the table, taking both of their receipts. “Thanks for agreeing to meet today. I’ll talk to you soon?” 

“Soon, sure.” Nancy gave her one last smile then stood from the table. “I can get my coffee, Robin.”

Robin shook her head, “You get it next time.” 

Nancy threw her bag over her shoulder then shrugged slightly. “Right, well. I look forward to your call.”

[bluetorchsky]

Alright live thoughts for the direct #blue thoughts. Very long so I threw it under the read more

pokemon DLC looking really cool actually! The new three pokemon look cute too, including the one with the teal mask. Now wave 2...Indigo Disk, right. Character designs look cool. Especially the new outfits for the MCs. Interesting hubs! The new "legendary" pokemons look nice too. I dont have the game but I hope the ones who do have it will enjoy it.

Sonic game looks nice and slick! Hm...Palia? It looks cute but not my thing. Something about the avatars and stuff doesn't sit with me

Persona 5 Tactica? I love watching people play the game, but it's not my thing. It does look similar to Mario and Rabbids game, and I guess Fire Emblems games, but it does look cute.

MYTHFORCE? I almost spit my water out. It looks so fucking corny but that's just fucking cute. Oh? It's a roguelike game? They said each run, so that's what I'm thinking.

HELL YEAH SPLATFEST...Another sweet one? What?...FLAVOR OF ICE CREAM? NO CHOCOLATE? EXCUSE ME? THIS IS ANARCHY. Vanilla? Strawberry? MINT CHIP? NOOOO! Aight more challenges are coming but MAN. That splatfest theme is a bummer

More pokemon...? Detective PIKACHU?! HOLY SHIT oh...OH NO NOT THAT VOICE....I...hmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMM....ehhh...

OHHHHH MARIO ...Uh...SUPER MARIO RPG HOLY SHIT...REMASTER??????HOLY FUCK IM GETTING THIS...MAYBE IF MY WALLET ALLOWS IT I've ALWAYS wanted to try this one! IT LOOKS SO GODDAMN CUTE AND AMAZING

WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAN?....AAAAAAAAHHHHHH PEACH GETTING HER OWN GAME AGAIN!!!!! OH COME ON! OHHHH MORE LUIGI'S MANSION REMASTER HELL YEAH

Ah more headlines...batman stuff, aight...OH! It's mostly the main games coming to switch. Aight...Gloomhaven? Eh, not my thing...Just Dance? Goddamn this series does not die. But I gotta give them credit for that..Oh cool, we get seven Links /j Silent Hope looks cute for a roguelike. It feels a little cluttered for me, but it's still cute looking...

Alright switch games...Fae farms? Hmm...maybe? It's cute looking. OH HOT WHEELS! Not my thing but still looks cool...Manic Mechanics?....Feels like Overcooked for cars lol...OH! The second dlc for the second Rabbids and Mario game!...wha....Oh it's...like that Hero guy? Uh...pokemon-like game?...ohhh that's what it is....Dragon Quest that's the series! It's...It's alright I guess. Not my thing as usual.

PIKMIN! PIKMIN 4! LET'S GOOOOOO! I'd love to try this out too! Oatchi is so adorable!...Underground stuff? DAMN!...That man does not look good I swear. Dandori Battle? OHHH goddamn! Conflict! NIGHT EXPEDITIONS!...OHHHHH FRENZIED ENEMIES! The music is so creepy I LOVE IT! My question though is if there is still a like a day limit on how long you need get the ship running, but DAMN....OHHHHH! Pikmin 1 and Pikmin 2 coming today! The remasters! Demo for Pikmin 4 will be out on the 28th!

More headlines, I feel like no Splatoon DLC news...Oh Metal Gerar Solid collection!...Castlevania? Oh, Vampire survivors. Aight. It looks interesting but seems anxiety inducing haha...Pigeons...? Okay...Rhytm Battle royale as a pigeons? ...Okay this is really weird haha...If it's free I'll try it out...Penny's Big Breakaway? OH! A YAYO WEAPON! The team behind Sonic Mania? HOLY SHIT! This is cute not sure if I'll get it yet...WAVE 5 FOR MARIO KART HERE WE GO...A NEW COURSE HOLY SHIT! That's pretty cute, haha...PETEY PIRANHA AND WIGGLER?! AND KAMEK? GODDAMN HELL YEAH!!! SUMMER HERE WE GO! What other tracks will return though?...Star Ocean remaster, eh...WARIO WARE GAME? HELL YEAH I gotta fix my joycons I swear haha...

Haha! That was cute of him to do. Ohh more stuff?...Ah a live event in Seattle...TEARS OF KINGDOM WHAT'S THE NEWS COME ON...Oh just a thanks...ZELDA AND GANON AMIIBO IN HOLIDAY 2023

Last announcement...uh....OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS...THIS STYLE IS SO CUTE....OH....WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS....this is a new mario game btw BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS....HOLY SHIT......SUPER MARIO BROS WONDER?....OKAY!DAISY PLAYABLE HELL YEAH...koopalings pls as bosses....ELEPHANT MARIO WTF...the talking flowers are so cute though haha...

Aw man...no surprise stuff, goddamnit. No Side Order....BUT DAMN, that was cool! So definitely want to get Super Mario RPG Remaster, whatever that new Peach game is, Fae farms is a cute farm simulator game, might get, DEFINITELY PIKMIN 4 AND SUPER MARIO BROS WONDER, and the WarioWare game too! If that pigeon rhythm game is free, I;'ll try it out. AND DEFINITELY GETTING ZELDA AND GANON AMIIBOS. WAVE 5 FOR MARIO KART CANT COME SOONER I TELL YA.

That's all, haha

FUCKING NINTENDO DIRECT DAY!!!!!! IN AN HOUR!!!!

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

[brockadoodles]

I’ll be the love of your life inside your head - b. boeser

AN:  hello. Guess I’m back. Just for writing though. So here’s a repost of my fave thing i’ve ever written. :) Check out the sequel after you read this one, Errant Storytelling by @hockeyboysiguess​ 

Pairing: brock boeser x female OC 

Word Count: 38,421

Warnings: LONG AF, swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, some angst. 

Early September was Brock’s favorite time of the year, with the team getting into the swing of training camp in preparation for the new season that was to come, he always felt like it was somewhat of a fresh start. He would return to Vancouver, most of his body tan and his nose slightly burnt from spending everyday back at home out on the lake or driving through the mountains in his Jeep, top down and dogs in tow. He spent most of his summer alone, finding comfort and solace in just him on the water, able to reflect about the various stressors that impacted his life for eight or so months of the year. He had even adopted a second dog, Milo, who had quickly fit right into his routine. 

The change from late summer to early Fall in Vancouver was beautiful, the weather was  comfortably cooling down, but the rain that plagued the city not yet setting in for the long grey season, one that had dubbed Vancouver as “raincouver” to those who lived there. He loved Minnesota, but as he spent more and more time in Vancouver, he quickly found himself settling into west coast habits, easing back into the season and his life there more quickly with each passing year. 

One thing that had become somewhat of a tradition since his rookie season, was a first night back type of gathering, almost always taking place at some dive bar on the edge of East Vancouver, where he and some of the guys could catch up before the real intensity of autumn kicked in. Petey was no doubt his best friend in BC. He was a year younger, coming onto the team the year following Brock’s own rookie one and he found himself taking Elias almost under his wing. When he first came to the team, he barely spoke any English, and while some of the other guys were welcoming, they didn’t quite have the patience to decipher Swedish like Brock did. So, Brock introduced himself and the two instantly clicked on and off the ice. Catching up with Petey after summer was something that he was looking forward to, now that Petey was no longer a rookie and had settled into life in Canada more. 

This September was no different, and Brock found himself sitting in the dark booth in the early evening at the latest dive bar, a place that Jake had sworn by for having the best selection of local brewed beers while he waited on Petey to arrive. The bar was too warm for the sweatshirt and backwards cap he had on even though the establishment itself was rather empty for a Friday night. He supposed that the term dive bar rang true and that this was the quant hole in the wall type place that they usually frequented for their annual return to Vancouver get together. 

He slowly ran his finger along the rim of his beer, it was some local IPA that the waitress had sworn on, a glint in her eye that Brock knew too well, yet actively ignored as he politely ordered the drink, sending her a soft smile to say thank you but imply that he wasn’t interested. He took a sip of the beer, biting his tongue slightly at the sensation of it. He set the cool glass back on the table, sighing softly while he pulled out his phone from his pocket, making note that the beer was hoppy and too bitter for his taste. He slid his fingers across the screen, opening up the unread message from the friend he was waiting for. 

Olive is always late. Be there soon. 

Brock frowned at the text from his friend and set his phone back down on the table. It wasn’t like Petey to be late to anything, in fact for someone who was as young as him, he was incredibly serious about anything he committed his time to. Petey was the type of person to show up ten minutes early and feel like he’s late, having one time nearly chewed Brock out for taking a wrong turn on the highway causing their tardiness at some inconsequential event that he couldn’t even remember the details of at this point. He very vaguely remembered the name Olive, Petey having mentioned something about his new friend he had made over the summer from staying in Vancouver. 

It took a few minutes of Brock tapping his fingers on the dark wood table, contemplating something trivial about his surroundings and the people coming into the bar before he saw Petey’s familiar blonde head of hair walking through the wood door. He looked at his friend and noted that he was slightly tanner than his usual ghostly shade, must have been from the endless amounts of time on the golf course with Chris Tanev, the teams’ unofficial dad for the younger guys. Brock slowly got out of the booth, ready to hug his friend when he saw the girl hanging from Petey’s arm, his breath catching in his throat and his mind blanking on how to properly function aside from standing there looking like a person who has just been read something in a language that they don’t even speak. 

Time felt fleeting as he watched her laugh at something Petey said, and for a moment he internally groaned with what most people would recognize as jealousy because he wanted to be the arm she was hanging from. Brock knew his friend hadn’t been interested in meeting anyone, and for a moment he almost wished he was because then he wouldn’t be physically so impacted by the presence of this girl he had no idea about other than her name being Olive and that she was always late and absolutely gorgeous.

Olive gripped Elias’s arm tighter as they crossed the threshold of the bar they were meeting someone at. She looked around and noted that everything seemed to be made of wood, the decor resembling some cheesy rendition of what people assumed things looked like in the Tudor times in England. Not that she was complaining, because any bar that had a Tudor theme was a bar that she could get along well with, plus Elias had said there was a great selection of IPA’s and a new person for her to meet, so she couldn’t be happier with how she was spending her Friday night. 

Olive was the type of person who most would assume spent her time with her head in her books, romanticizing the world around her. She permanently had her dark hair thrown into some tangled mess on her head, glasses usually residing on the bridge of her nose, and some variation of dark wash ripped jeans and a big knit sweater on. She was simple from a physical standpoint, most often never throwing on more than mascara and her favorite brick red lipstick for a night out. Yet from a philosophical standpoint, Olive was anything but simple. Her brain often worked in overdrive, causing her to need to write lists to herself about everything she needed to do, or thoughts that occurred to her throughout the day. She always kept a notebook in her bag, the same one, a dark navy blue and leather bound notebook with a dot grid on the pages inside, where lists and notes would be unkept and out of order to anyone that would look through its well used pages. It was almost impressive how often she was late, but she was always forgiven for it because she welcomed anyone she met with open arms and a deceitfully open heart. 

Olive spotted who she assumed to be Elias’s friend, Brock, slowly getting up from a dark wooden booth tucked away from the rest of the patrons. Her first thought was that he looked exactly what she imagined someone named Brock to look like, bright blonde hair underneath a backwards snapback, skin golden and a light stubble grazing his face. Something about his presence threw her off though, and she found herself calm as they walked up to him, laughing softly at Petey who cracked a joke about him wearing Birkenstocks to a bar. 

She walked right up to him with a wide smile on her face, sticking her hand out to shake his as Petey introduced them, with no indication that she realized Brock felt his heart lurch toward something that he had never felt the need to gravitate towards before. Olive stood there for a moment, time frozen as Brock slowly took her hand in his for the first time, knowing somewhere in his soul that he needed to know everything there was to know about the girl named after what was not quite a fruit and not quite a vegetable, that he normally didn’t even like in the first place. 

“Oh? IPA guy, huh?” Were the first words that slipped from her crimson red lips, a smirk evident on them. He looked down to the beer in his hand and internally panicked about a response to such a trivial question. Would this girl who he found himself fascinated by ruthlessly judge him for what she might think of as terrible taste in the third most common drink in the world? 

“Oh, yeah, uhm, they’re great.” Brock lied, bringing the far too hoppy tasting beer to his lips, forcing down a convincing enough sip to hope that she wouldn’t catch on to his distaste for the beverage. He didn’t quite understand why Olive approving of his beer choice was something that he felt the need to have, but if she loved IPA’s, he was going to have to get used to the taste. 

Brock was always welcoming to new people, and as he sat there in a booth listening to Olive tell him and Petey about her classes and latest book she was reading, he was patting himself on the back for saying yes to Petey inviting her. Olive was captivating as she animantly spoke about the things that were passions of hers. She talked loudly, and her hands were as equal parts of the conversation as her voice was and Brock was completely and undeniably hooked from the get go. 

Olive bounced up from the table, leaning her body over it so that she could speak to both of them and be heard. The crowd had picked up as the night went on, and now there were quite a few groups of people loudly chatting around them, music also adding to the noise. Brock looked at Olive as she smiled at him, his eyes trailing slightly down her body as she spoke. 

“Another round, boys?” She teased, turning her body quickly to walk off. 

Brock’s eyes involuntarily followed Olive after she excused herself to go grab another round for the table and he was so focussed on her retreating figure that it took Petey four times of saying his name before Brock snapped out of it.

“Oh? What?” Brock said, attempting to save whatever sense of pride he had left, but this was Petey that he was with, and Petey was nothing short of the reigning king of the ability to observe anyone who was around him. He recognized the look in Brock’s eyes, it was how a lot of people looked at Olive when they saw her, and while Petey knew that Brock’s intentions were nothing short of good, he also knew Olive and how she was when it came to relationships. 

“It’s not a good idea, Boes,” he nodded toward the bar, his eyes glancing over to Olive for a moment before returning to Brock. Brock sighed, hating that Petey not only knew him so well, but that he was in the situation to be so infatuated with this girl he hardly knew. Brock just shrugged, looking down at the patterns in the wood on the table while he hoped that his friend would just drop the subject.

“She’s not like you,” Petey continued, and Brock’s head slowly lifted up to question what his friend was trying to say to him.

“She is great, and I care about her a lot, but she isn’t capable of what you want.” Petey shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Brock frowned. Petey narrowed his eyes, contemplating the nicest way to say the next words that would come from his lips before Olive came back to the table.

“She doesn’t know how to give someone her heart, she won’t mean to do it, but she’ll hurt you.” 

Brock didn’t have time to respond, instead he sat there and soaked in Petey’s seemingly harsh words and he questioned if he had misjudged the girl who was now bouncing eagerly back to the table, effortlessly balancing three drinks in her hands. She set them down carefully on the table and nodded as she sat down in the booth, this time settling in right next to Brock. The three of them took sips of the new drinks as conversation continued, but all Brock could find himself focusing on was the sound of her voice and clove-like smell of her perfume as her body shifted closer to him. Those three drinks that they were consuming soon became three more, and then three more after that and so on until somehow Brock and Olive had ended up alone together with his hand on her thigh and her head resting in her hand as she looked up at him with lust in her eyes on the same side of the booth where Elias had left them after some girl had swept him away. 

Petey’s words didn’t matter all that much to Brock as he sat close to Olive and tried to get to know her as much as you could get to know anyone in this type of setting. He could tell that she was smart, and focussed on her studies, something that she was proud of that was another bullet to the list of things he found attractive about her. Her lipstick was slightly smudged as she laughed at a story Brock was telling, distracting him as he thought about leaning in closer and smudging it even more. Each laugh that came from her lips had Brock thinking to himself that the IPA that was so bitter before maybe wasn’t so bad after all. 

“Okay drunkie Ollie, time to get you water.” Brock teased, handing her a bottle of water that he had gotten from the bar. Olive just blinked at him, reaching out to grab the cold bottle from his hands. 

“Ollie?” She asked, tilting her head a bit at the nickname. 

“S’cute, like you.” He shrugged, a small smile on his lips as he watched her take in the words. Brock had been infatuated with Olive all night, to the point where he almost felt slightly annoyed at Petey for never introducing them. The pull between him and her was apparent, so much so that he found himself stealing glances with her all night, hoping that with each one he would see her beautiful crimson red smile that he had been growing so attached to in a matter of hours.

“You’re cute.” Olive said, reaching a hand up to his face, softly tapping her finger on his nose before cheekily pulling his cap off his head, tossing it onto her own. Brock ruffled a hand through his own hair, an attempt to make it less apparent that he had been wearing a hat for the last few hours, but finding no desire within himself to take the accessory back from Olive. Olive took a sip of her water, confidence pouring through her next moves as she rested her hand on his arm, fingers dancing slightly as she leaned into his ear. 

“I mean it, Boes.” She spoke lowly, breath fanning across his neck, so close that her lips almost touched his skin before pulling back, offering nothing but a sly smile as she walked over toward the bar to close her tab for the night as if she hadn’t just pulled his breath from his throat with four simple words. Brock caught her eye once more from across the bar, the flimsy strings that were pulling him toward her were strengthening, and he was finding himself grasping onto what were slowly becoming thick strands of rope between them, hoping that if he just shortened them enough, she could be his. 

Olive frowned when the bartender told her the tab had already been closed and pointed toward Brock when she asked who did it. She muttered a soft thank you and set some cash down on the bar for an extra tip before walking back to the boy in question, mentally flipping between whether or not she should argue with him about this or let it go because the gesture was nice and she could only assume he wasn’t hard pressed for money to pay a $70 bar tab. 

Brock smiled when she walked up to him and threw an arm quickly around her shoulder, mentioning that he had gotten a cab to take her home. She laughed a bit, making some joke about how he must not know what an Uber was being from rural Minnesota, something that he feigned offense to but laughed along with anyway. When the car pulled up, he opened the door for her and let her use his hand as balance while she stepped in. Part of her wanted to invite him in, to take him home with her and satisfy the new feeling from him that she found herself craving. But the last bit of responsibility in her left the words on the tip of her tongue, knowing that it could potentially put Elias in a weird spot if she were to ask him. So instead, she got into the cab alone, settling into her seat as Brock leaned down. 

Olive smiled as Brock leaned against the open door of the taxi, a smirk on his lips and pink from the alcohol they’d both consumed flushing his cheek. She felt a little lost in thought about the boy in front of her and how old fashioned it felt being in a cab when ridesharing was so common in the city. Nonetheless, she steadied her breathing as she tried to focus on anything but Brock’s soft smile that was starting to make her feel like she wanted that smile only for herself. 

Brock handed Olive his phone slowly, ignoring the look of the driver who was growing impatient for their nondescript moment to end. 

“Give me your number so I can make sure you get home safe,” Brock nodded toward Olive. He held the car door nervously under his hand as he analyzed her reaction to his request, hoping that he wasn’t coming across as some sleezy guy trying to take advantage of a girl in a drunken state. He hoped she could see that he genuinely wanted to know she was safe, and that Petey would have likely appreciated that Brock stepped in to make sure his friend got back to her apartment safely. 

Olive smirked, feigning confidence from her next few words as she slowly typed in her phone number, taking a risk with adding an emoji, a simple black heart next to her name. A bold choice wrapped up in such an inconsequential action. She sent herself a text, making sure to have his number as well, and only adding a secret heart of her own to the contact once the door was fully shut and the cab was pulling away from him. 

The promise went forgotten as Olive tumbled into her building that night, a soft thank you escaping her lips as she paid the driver and went into the brick building. She loved this building and had lived here for almost three years in the small studio facing the water. It was old, had a charming history from being built in 1902 and stood in stark contrast to the silver and shiny modern buildings that surrounded her in the city, signs of too much money flooding into the surroundings. She liked the old elevators that looked like the ones from the movie Titanic, the creaking of the wood floors as you walked by, and the design details that made her feel like she was in the Edwardian era. Modern felt cold, and Olive was anything but cold. 

She tossed her keys on the counter and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before retreating to her bedroom. She slowly started peeling off her clothes from the night out that were starting to smell like one of those cigar smoke filled rooms that old men would go to in the early 1900’s to get away from their wives after supper, whiskey in their glasses and cards in their hands. She thought back to the evening, her mind drifting to a certain blonde that she hadn’t come there with, but who had left with dancing through her mind and she found herself wondering more about him as her eyes fluttered closed.   

Olive couldn’t have been asleep for more than twenty minutes before she heard the soft buzzing on her nightstand, peeling her eyes open to the soft light coming into her room from the phone that was ringing. Brock’s name flashing tauntingly across the screen as she struggled to adjust to the light as she clicked to answer his call.

“Hi.” She groaned, head still foggy from the alcohol and now the lack of sleep.

“Hey, sorry I just wanted to make sure you made it back alright,” Brock said, his voice quiet and not confident in the words he was saying. Olive smiled even though he couldn’t see it, her stomach doing flips as she thought about how no one had ever taken this much effort to make her feel wanted from knowing her in such a short time. The word to describe him immediately floated into her mind. 

“I’m here, Brock.” She responded, rubbing her eyelids softly before continuing.

“Benevolent: well meaning and kindly.” she added, sitting up slightly in her bed and biting her lip for his response. 

“What?” Brock laughed softly, unsure of how to react.

“That’s your word of the day, or night I suppose. You’re benevolent, Brock.” 

Brock took in what Olive had just said to him as he pulled the blanket closer to his chest and his phone nearer to his ear, hoping he had heard her right. Her not so subtle compliment causing redness to flood his cheeks noticeably even in the dark room he was in by himself. He stayed on the phone with Olive for a short while longer, continuing the conversation effortlessly as if they had been two people that knew each other for far more than just a few short hours on a Friday. When he fell asleep, her soft snores were still echoing through his phone against his ear, and he closed his eyes thinking about how he had never smiled more about a word he had just learned. 

--------------

The following weekend, Olive found herself walking down the aisles of the European grocery store with Elias that they both enjoyed so much. The Canucks were about to have a week-long home stretch which meant that at least once that week she would get to veg out with her best friend on his far too expensive couch and marinate in some of her favorite Swedish dishes that Elias liked to make. 

She meandered down the aisle, looking for the familiar packaging of a particular sauce he wanted her to grab. Her hair was messily braided down her back and her denim jacket was far too warm for the temperature of the store. 

“I meant to apologize for leaving you the other night. I know Brock helped you home,” Elias said. Olive jumped at the sound of his voice, bringing a hand to her chest momentarily while she turned to face her friend. 

“Oh it’s alright, speaking of Brock…” she trailed off, her eyes returning to the shelf. She picked up a package of what appeared to be some sort of gravy and started to read it, her eyes scanning over the words in Swedish as if she could even understand them. Elias scowled for a moment, watching his friend tense up at the mention of Brock, a clear indication she was nervous to bring him up. Her cheeks were starting to heat up as she intently focused on the writing he knew she couldn’t read. 

“No.” He shrugged, grabbing the package from her and putting it back on the shelf and replacing it with the correct one that they needed for dinner that night. 

“What? Does he have a girlfriend?” Olive asked, eyes widening slightly when she turned to face Elias. 

“No, but he’s too soft for you. You’ll crush him.” Olive frowned slightly at his words as she processed them. She knew she had trouble when it came to relationships, usually pulling away from the guys she was dating, finding some insignificant flaw in them before they could see all of hers, but she didn’t think she was mean, so to hear Elias imply that she was capable of hurting his friend stung. 

“Elias,” she tried to reason. Elias just sighed, annoyance dripping from his voice at the next few words he spoke.

“It’s not a good match, Olive. I don’t think he can handle all of you. He’d just break and you can’t break my best friend.” 

“Right,” Olive shoved past Elias, hurt written all over her face at his harsh words. Olive didn’t know how to react entirely to what he was saying, and part of her wanted to fight him on it, to argue that she wasn’t capable of hurting someone in that way. But the truth was, she probably had. Everyone is capable of unintentionally breaking someone’s heart, and Elias’s words pierced a hole in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel bad knowing that what someone who she considered as a best friend truly thought about her. 

As she was waiting in the checkout stand with Elias right behind her, her phone lit up with a text from the boy she had asked about just minutes prior.

You busy tomorrow morning? 

Olive glanced over at Elias, making her he couldn’t see over her shoulder to her phone. It was probably partially anger that fueled her reply to Brock, wanting to see him in spite of what Elias had said because maybe she could prove him wrong. But if she were to listen to the flutter in her stomach while reading that text she would have realized that her fingers moved across the keyboard at the command of her heart, which was already nestled lightly in Brock’s awaiting hands, even if neither of them were conscious of it. 

For you? Always free 😚 

She tucked her phone back into her bag and shook her head slightly, a small blush forming on her cheeks as she thought about him. She did her best to keep it at bay the rest of the night with Elias, not bringing him up again and certainly not telling him that she had planned to see Brock the next morning. 

The following day, Olive stood outside of Brock’s building nervously as she waited for him to come downstairs to get her. It was just after 9 in the morning and the chilly air had finally set into the city. She was wearing dark booties and jeans, with an oversized cream sweater tucked slightly into the front of them. Her hair was haphazardly thrown into a messy low bun, with strands framing her face. She felt that she looked casual yet cute enough that it looked like she put in effort. This was her first time seeing Brock since the night they met at the bar and while they had begun a regular stream of texting conversations in the short few weeks since then, she was incredibly nervous to actually spend time with him alone. There was an underlay of flirtation in their messages, and part of her felt guilty for being outside of his condo that morning after what Elias had said to her just the previous day. 

Brock came out the front door, spotting Olive instantly. He almost stopped walking as he took in her appearance, his mind stagnant as he combed through every variation of the word beautiful that he knew to describe her. When she noticed him walking up, she tucked her phone into her small black bag, smiling brightly at him with those same crimson red lips he had been thinking about for weeks now. 

“Hi,” She said as he wrapped an arm around her in greeting. She reacted quickly, snaking both of her arms around Brock’s torso for a moment to reciprocate the hug. 

“Are you okay with walking a bit?” Brock asked. Olive nodded and gestured in front of her, implying that he should lead the way. Brock adjusted the dark beanie on top of his head as they started down the street, Olive walking close enough to him that their arms would gently brush every few steps as the two of them settled into easy conversation for the short walk to where Brock was taking her. 

Olive started noticing more people as they got farther away from Brock’s condo, some with strollers and their kids, others walking their dogs with coffee in their hands. Most of them were carrying reusable bags with fresh produce sticking out. By the third block she realized where they were headed, forgetting that the farmer’s market was in full swing for Fall. She smiled a bit to herself, wondering if Brock was the type to come here alone or if he had just assumed correctly that it was the type of Sunday morning activity that she would enjoy. 

“I didn't peg you as a market kind of guy,” Olive laughed softly as they walked into the market. She stopped for a moment to look at one of the stands they were passing by, her eyes settling on the fresh bouquets of flowers that were arranged beautifully on the tables. The woman behind the stand said a friendly hello to her while telling her about the local nursery they owned, Olive nodding softly as the woman spoke. 

Brock’s eyes watched as hers drifted toward one specific arrangement. He picked it up as Olive chatted with the woman, a man walking over to him from behind the table who Brock could only assume was her husband based on the matching rings on their fingers. He looked over one last time at Olive, making sure that she was still engrossed in conversation as he paid for the bouquet of flowers for her, hoping that it wasn’t going to be crossing any sort of boundary between them. He thought back to what Petey had said to him the night they met as he rationalized that the flowers were simply a reason to hopefully make her smile. 

Olive turned as she finished up the conversation with the woman, stopping as she saw what Brock was holding out for her. She tentatively reached out, grabbing the bouquet of flowers in her hands and blushing slightly. She looked down at the arrangement of sunflowers and wildflowers in her hands, heart beating faster as she thought of something witty to say in the moment to save face from her now red cheeks.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to woo me, Brock Boeser,” She smirked, raising the flowers slightly toward him, a friendly banter in her voice. 

“That depends, Ollie, is it working?” he countered. Olive blushed in response, rolling her eyes slightly to try and keep the rhythm of her heart in check. She was standing on the shore dipping her toes into the water with Brock, all evidence pointing to the need of treading softly, but Olive Burke was never good at wading water, she needed to dive head first and swim. 

She didn’t answer him as the two of them continued to walk through the market, stopping occasionally to look at things, conversation picking back up between them like they didn’t just share what felt like to Olive as a moment of something more than could be described as just friendly. 

“So I have a confession to make,” Brock started as they walked up to the specific destination he had brought her here for in the first place. 

“And what might that be?” She smiled, placing one hand on her hip as the other held the flowers from earlier in the morning. 

“I really only come here for this specific tent,” he smiled, nodding up to the small coffee stand. 

“God, of course,” Olive laughed as they neared the front of the line, her stomach doing backflips at how charming he was without even trying. Of course Brock would only know about a farmers market for bagels and coffee, why should she have expected anything different?

“I actually found it my rookie year, back home there’s this small place near where I grew up. I remember being a kid and my brother, sister and I would always get bagels and hot chocolate on Sunday’s. So, when I was wandering around with Coolie after I adopted him and I found this place, it kind of felt like a comforting piece of home.” Brock recounted the memory to Olive. 

“The chive one is my personal favorite,” he smiled, his words lightening the tone of the conversation. He watched as Olive carefully scanned the menu, her dark eyes reading over each word from behind the glasses he liked her in so much. He felt a bit silly being so enamored by her essentially just standing there looking at a menu, and before he realized the potential consequences of his actions, he slipped his phone from his pocket and took a photo of her hands and the flowers, posting it to his Instagram story with a simple blue heart emoji. 

Brock was surprised at how comfortable he felt around Olive in terms of conversation. In just the short time that they had been here, he found himself sharing small details of his life that usually he wouldn’t have with girls who he hadn’t known very long. But with Olive something felt right. He wasn’t sure if it was because there was that knowledge in the back of his mind that Petey wouldn’t have been such good friends with someone who wasn’t a genuine person, or if it was his heart that was clouding his judgement as he shared almost intimate details of his life with her while they settled down onto a bench with their food. Brock wasn’t sure what all of this was, or if it could become anything despite Petey’s warnings, all he knew was that Olive Burke was fascinating, and he wanted to tumble into knowing all of her. 

They both walked slowly toward her car, nerves bubbling in Olive’s stomach as she wondered what all of this meant. She knew she was already stepping in too deep with Brock, knowingly going against Elias’s request when it came to his friend’s heart. But part of her didn’t care, Brock was calm, soothing, and in one short morning that felt like a better first date than she had ever been on, she wanted more. 

She stood nervously in front of her car, focussing her eyes and hands on the flowers that he had given her. She wasn’t sure where this would all lead, and for the first time she found herself hesitant about saying goodbye to him, her mind racing with questions about her next move. 

“Did you have a good time? Or am I as boring as Petey likely told you I am?” Brock asked, his eyes focusing on her. She looked up at him, his soft smile sending the butterflies that had been running rampant in her stomach into a flurry once again. 

“You’re not boring, Brock. You’re,” she paused, thinking of the word she wanted to say carefully. She smiled at him, matching his expression as she spoke, “amiable: having or displaying a friendly and pleasant manner.” 

Brock breathed a sigh of relief, her word for the day causing his nerves to sky rocket. Olive was on and off paper entirely too good for him, but the slight indication of affection she was showing in a simple word of the day toward him had him reaching out to give her a hug goodbye. Olive reacted quickly, wrapping her arms around him, carefully trying not to squish the flowers. They pulled apart and stuttered out slightly awkward goodbyes as Olive got in her car and watched Brock walk away, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. 

--------------

Brock tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as he drove to practice a few mornings later, a subtle smile on his lips as the quiet sounds of his playlist echoed in his car. His almost date with Olive was still fresh in his mind. The two of them had spent almost the entire afternoon together, with albeit a somewhat awkward goodbye that was still circling in his mind. It wasn’t too bad though, as his days and nights had been filled with conversation from her, simple texts and late night phone calls as their connection started to grow. 

Brock felt quite literally on cloud nine as he skated out onto the ice, not thinking twice before heading up to Petey to start warming up. 

“Petey!” he called out, skating up to him. Elias turned his body away from Brock, ignoring his friend’s greeting and continuing to work on his shot. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t date my friend,” Petey said, shooting a puck harshly toward Jacob and then skating away, leaving Brock slightly out of it as he wound up for his own shot, one that got blocked by Jacob almost effortlessly. He couldn’t understand why his friend was being so cold toward him, he knew that Petey had warned him about Olive not being capable of opening her heart, but Brock was more than willing to accept and take on that risk. He didn’t understand why Petey didn’t seem to consider how he was feeling either. Brock didn’t respond as he skated off toward the bench to follow his friend and confront him about the almost outburst that had just happened on the ice. When he reached the bench, Petey just turned, skating back out and away from him like he was the last person he’d want to associate with. What was really getting to Brock about the entire situation was that he knew Petey was selective about his friends, he knew that he wouldn’t have invited someone who wasn’t genuine into their inner circle, so why was he so bothered by Olive and him being attracted to each other? 

“We’re not dating, petey. What are you even talking about?” Brock groaned, skating over to his friend, this time with Petey remaining in his spot for the next drill. 

“You took her on a date two days ago.” Elias grumbled, not looking Brock in the eye. Brock rolled his eyes slightly at his friend, failing to see what the big deal was when it came to hanging out with Olive.

“It wasn’t a date,” he argued, “How did you even find out about it? Do you have little scouts following her around to make sure she’s not seeing me?” 

Elias shot his head to face Brock, and deep scowl on his features. It was such a contrast to how Brock and Elias normally acted around each other. They were inseparable and never fought over anything serious. So as they stood there on the ice, the tension between them was obvious and their teammates were starting to pick up on it.

“Your Instagram is public and that picture was stupid.” Was all that Elias said before skating off once more, leaving Brock to remember that he did in fact post a photo to his story and maybe in hindsight it wasn’t his best post ever. 

Petey was cold toward Brock for the rest of practice, constantly shuffling the puck away from him in drills, not listening when Brock tried to communicate, so much so that the rest of the team started to notice. It wasn’t normal for Elias and Brock to not get along, and it was starting to hinder the rest of the group’s dynamic. 

Brock positioned himself in front of Jacob as Petey took his spot to start a tip in drill. The first few shots hit Brock’s stick so hard that he could feel the vibrations through his gloves. He was starting to get frustrated with Elias, finding his attitude and reaction to something that shouldn’t have even been a big deal a bit extreme. But if there was anything that he knew about his friend, it was that he could hold a grudge and was most certainly not afraid to show it, the only difference was Brock had never been on the receiving end of it.

Elias lined up at the blue line, slapping a wrist shot toward Brock. He watched as it hit Brock just above his knee. Brock fell to the ground, groaning loudly as he scrambled to get up, Jacob having to come up behind him to help him skate one legged back to the bench. Elias knew it was immature, but part of him didn’t feel entirely that bad for it. He of course wanted Brock to be okay, but he also wanted him to know that he was pissed, and if that realization had to come from a slapshot that Brock missed with his stick, well then that was the price he had to pay.

“You fucking did that on purpose!” Brock yelled as he passed Petey, his leg throbbing in pain as the trainer helped guide him off the ice. He was fuming at this point, Petey’s attitude starting to take its toll on his own, and the wrist shot sending pain shooting down his leg wasn’t helping to calm down the situation. 

“Yeah, well that’s karma for dating my best friend behind my back.” Petey shrugged. JT watched as Brock rolled his eyes at Petey, their little squabble audible for most of the team to hear. He skated up to his linemate, patting him quickly on the shoulder.

“Listen if anyone is gonna date your best friend, Brock isn’t a bad option. You know he’d treat her well. Don’t let this come between you guys.” JT tried to reason as best he could without getting in the middle of whatever was going on. Elias nodded, the words not fully absorbing in a rational way in his mind yet. Olive and Brock were his best friends, and while the idea of them dating was something that he should have been supportive of, he just couldn’t see it ending well and didn’t want either of them to be hurt. So instead of supporting it, he thought asking them not to would be enough to prevent it, but he didn’t know just how deep either of their hearts had already been invested into each other. 

Brock didn’t come back out for the rest of practice. Instead he sat in Petey’s stall with his leg elevated as he waited for the rest of the team to finish. He had an ice pack securely resting on his thigh as he ran through various versions of what he wanted to say to Petey when he came back. 

Elias walked into the dressing room, his eyes narrowing when he saw Brock sitting in his stall. He maneuvered around his friend, passive aggressively ignoring Brock each time he said his name.  

“What’s your fucking deal, Petey?” Brock asked as he sat, unmoving as Petey tried to work around him to hang his gear up in his stall. Elias shook his head as he sat down next to him and started untying his skates while Brock waited for a response. 

“You took her on a date,” Elias mumbled, annoyance clear in his tone. Brock rolled his eyes, wondering how he had even found out about his Sunday with Olive in the first place. 

“Oh my god, Petey. It wasn’t a date. We just hung out together. We literally walked around,” Brock tried to reason with his friend. He didn’t think it was fair that he had to justify spending time with Olive to Petey. If Petey didn’t want them getting along, why did he bring her to dive bar night in the first place? He knew they didn’t have any attraction to each other, Olive was most definitely not a bad person from what he had learned about her so far, so he couldn’t figure out why Elias was so stubborn about it all. Elias didn’t say anything in response as he packed his bag to leave, Brock growing more and more frustrated with his friend. 

“Well am I allowed to be her friend or is that too much for you to process?” Brock scowled, pulling his blue practice jersey over his head as he started getting himself ready to leave. 

“You can be friends, I just think if you date and break up it would mess with the group,” Petey shrugged curtley. Brock could tell that his friend didn’t want to broach the topic anymore, but he also realized that this seemed important to him, and he the last thing he wanted to do was put a girl above one of his best friends. Brock nodded at his friend and finished taking off his gear. When he was fully changed he pulled out his phone, noticing a text from Olive that had him second guessing his decision from just moments prior. 

Cognisant: having or showing knowledge or understanding or realization or perception.

Reminds me of Elias.  

Brock sighed at his phone and locked it, putting it back in his pocket along with Olive’s message. He was frustrated, partially at Elias for being so damn stubborn, but mostly he was frustrated with himself for not wanting to shake Olive from his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what would make him feel better at this point, but running head first into the boards was slowly starting to sound like an appropriate response to the copious amounts of thoughts and scenarios currently skating through his mind, each one a different outcome that disappointed a different person, usually himself.

It was only a few hours after Brock was nearly reprimanded by Petey for showing interest in his friend that Olive was frantically pacing around her living room, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands as she heard the seemingly endless ring of her phone. She was starting to feel her hands shake each time she heard someone’s voicemail. After a few failed attempts at contacting almost everyone she knew who could provide her any sense of comfort, she opened her contacts and scrolled to the only B name in her phone, not hesitating to press the call button. 

Brock answered after one ring which was something that could not be said about the other people in her life currently. Olive breathed a sigh of relief, feeling her eyes well up with fresh tears when she heard his voice in her ear. 

“Hey, sorry I haven't messaged you back, I was at practice and got caught up. Are you calling to tell me another fancy word?” Brock joked over the phone, smiling softly to himself as he pictured Olive’s concentration face as she read and annotated her latest book, something that he had seen a handful of times since meeting her the previous month. Olive always brought her books with her, scattering them around any table that was in front of her. He knew most of her words for him had struck while she was mid-reading and he found himself infatuated with each one that she sent along to him. 

“I’m sorry I called, I just… my mom wasn’t answering, neither was Elias, and I-,” she cried into the phone, shaking her head slightly in regret for bothering Brock. He was clearly having a good day, based on the tenor of his voice. 

“Olive, you can call me anytime you need, please don’t apologize,” Brock said, his voice steady in Olive’s ear and offering her a sense of reassurance that she wasn’t a bother to him, something she so desperately needed to hear in that moment. 

“My dissertation got rejected, and not just rejected, like, they ripped me apart,” Olive sniffled as she rubbed her temples. She wasn’t sure if Brock even knew what she was talking about, or if he would be able to console her in that moment. All she could think about were the harsh words of her advisor that afternoon telling her that she had to start her entire proposal from scratch, something that had taken her weeks to work through. 

Olive was the type of person to give her everything into her program, she was passionate and opinionated and not afraid to be assertive, so when she tried to do those things in her proposal that she was extremely proud of, she thought her advisors would appreciate the effort. It turns out, they did not appreciate anyone drifting from the classic narratives offered in literature, and she was expected to produce something to get her masters degree that was likely going to be a carbon copy of thousands of other works. She was devastated and didn’t feel like she had anyone to turn to as she waited for Brock to respond. 

“Are you home?” Was not the response that she had expected from the boy on the other end of the line, his voice hesitant and slow as he spoke. She nodded once, wiping her eyes with the stretched out now slightly damp sleeves of her sweater before answering him softly.

“Yeah, I just got here,” Olive whispered, fresh tears falling down her cheeks, hair even messier than it normally was from how much she had fussed with it in frustration. 

“I’ll be right there, okay? Do you want to keep talking while I drive?” He asked. Olive could hear him locking his door, keys slightly clinking together in his hands. 

“Can you tell me about your day, please? I just need to think about something else right now,” she responded. 

Brock launched into a recount of his day, telling her everything from practice, to his walk with the dogs. He didn’t miss any minute details, except for the chunk of practice where Petey had given him a temporary but large bruise, and she found her tears slowly drying up as she laid on her couch listening to him talk. Brock’s voice was soft, calming, and when he laughed telling her about some inconsequential event that had occurred at practice, it was hard for her not to smile. She didn’t realize how calm she had become from just his voice until she heard him saying her name a few times, awakening her from her slight daydream of him.

“Olive?” Brock laughed, he was standing outside of her building, that deep red brick building that he had heard her describe so many times, the ivy that usually adorned it was just vines, leaves having already fallen off for the upcoming winter. 

“Mhm?” She answered. 

“Can you buzz me in?” Olive smiled at his words, getting up to tap on the button that would unlock the door for him. It was only then that she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she set her phone down, waiting for Brock to make the short journey upstairs to her unit. She stepped closer to the mirror, sighing softly at her red cheeks and her dark eyes were still slightly red and watery from the crying. Her sweater was wrinkled and the sleeves were slightly stretched from pulling them to wipe her eyes. The tall socks she was wearing were completely mismatched, one grey and one blue and black striped. Her hair looked more like a birds nest than it usually did, and she knew she didn’t have time to make herself look more presentable before she heard his footsteps in the hallway and three soft knocks on her door. 

As soon as Olive opened the door, Brock pulled her into his arms. He slipped one hand just underneath her sweater, resting at the curve of her back to push her flush against him. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing his hand to the nape of her neck, holding her in his chest as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead, something that both calmed Olive and made her nervous at the same time. They stood there in the doorway for a moment as Olive wrapped her arms around Brock’s body, steadying herself from the waves that had been crashing into her all day, feeling safe and finally not seasick for the first time being there with him. 

Brock slowly walked forward into Olive’s small apartment as he held her. He could tell by her voice earlier on the phone that she was upset, but when he saw her he knew the extent of what upset to Olive actually meant. He looked around quickly at her apartment, scanning the room and taking in how much it looked like an extension of her. He could see a small wooden table by the kitchen window, books and pens scattered on top of it, a cup of coffee that he assumed was from that morning left behind and cold. She had lots of artwork up, various prints and drawings in simple frames scattered around her walls. Next to the velvet couch, there was a small potted tree that had the faintest white lights on it. He noticed that there were more papers and books on the coffee table, Olive’s signature navy blue notebook resting on top of them, sticky notes sticking from the edges. 

He reached his hands down to Olive’s hips, tapping them gently to guide her to sit on the small island that was in her kitchen. He rested his hands on her thighs, pressing soothing circles into the tops of her soft black leggings, her mismatched sock covered feet dangling from the counter. He looked at her, seeing another side of Olive that he had never been met with before. The Olive that she let him see was loud, always confident in her words and feelings, and who almost always had a smile on her face. The Olive in front of him looked tired, a broken down version of herself, and while she was still the most beautiful person he thought he had ever stood in front of, it reminded him that even the most independent, strong people sometimes fall down too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Brock asked as he gripped Olive’s thigh a bit tighter. He was trying to show her that he was there, that in this wild, chaotic mess that was clearly storming through her mind, he was the boat that was there to keep her steady and get her back to shore safely. 

Olive shook her head slightly, wrapping her arms around Brock once more. He was wearing a soft dark hoodie and smelled like cinnamon. When she looked down his legs she noticed the slippers on his feet, her heart fluttering steadily at the idea of Brock leaving so quickly to come be with her that all he threw on were his old grandpa slippers. She squeezed his sides softly, pulling back from him to look in his eyes, finding nothing but comfort in them. Brock was standing there and all she could think about was how his presence felt like a Sunday afternoon, when you’ve come home from brunch and wrap yourself in a warm, thick blanket, secure and full, emotions that she didn’t understand why she was feeling for someone who up until recently had just been Elias’s friend Brock to her.  

Olive did her best to plaster on what was left of her to offer him a smile as she fixed the dark rimmed glasses on her nose and looked up at Brock as she held his waist. For a moment she found herself daydreaming again in front of him, admitting to herself that if Brock wanted to lean down and kiss her, she would be a willing participant. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, something that seemed to happen quite often around him, so she hopped off the counter and went toward the stove, distracting herself in a way that would hopefully rid her of the daydreams about Brock.

Brock watched Olive carefully as she wandered through the kitchen, pulling out a pan and various items from her fridge. He noticed that her eyes looked less puffy than they had when he first walked in, and her smile was subtle but slowly coming back to her face as she grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf and two wine glasses to go with it. She gestured to the glass as she poured and he nodded in confirmation. Brock had never cared for wine, but for her he would take in the notes of the dark liquid, pretending he didn’t think about how the color resembled that of her lips. 

“Assuagement: the feelings that comes when something burdensome is removed or reduced,” Olive spoke as she handed him the glass of wine, raising her own to his glass in a small toast. Brock felt a sense of relief at Olive’s latest word of the day for him, understanding what she was trying to say he had done for her without actually saying it. 

Brock looked at Olive in a way that he had never looked at anyone else before, and in another world maybe he would have been able to act on it without Petey’s stupid rule giving him a guilty conscious over the thoughts he was having about pressing her body against the counter and kissing her. But he knew that even if he could, in this moment where Olive was now dancing in her kitchen, laughter filling his ears while she cooked, he would have been taking advantage. Olive had shown him part of her personality that she kept hidden from most people, sharing a vulnerable side to the pressures she faced every day, and while she was laughing with him now, all he wanted her to know was that he could see her and that he cared about her more than a stolen kiss on a Monday evening would have been. Olive deserved more than that, and even if it killed him, he would wait as long as it took to be right for them. 

Olive fell asleep that night in a wine drunken haze, half curled up on her couch with Brock’s body flush behind her. His hand was running through the ends of her hair that she had finally let down in front of him, easing her of the headache that had accumulated partially from the crying but largely from the wine. She wasn’t sure what time it was when Brock nudged her softly, helping her into bed before he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering that he would let her know when he got back home that night and a sticky note on the table by her bed with the words “you’re amazing” written in his terrible handwriting for her to wake up to. In another scenario, she would have been brave enough to ask him to stay.  

--------------

By mid-October, things had started to shift not only in the now cold and constantly cloudy Vancouver weather, but between everyone. Olive and Brock had only drifted closer, their feelings for each other tethering over the edge of too much in late night phone calls from Brock in the hotel hallway to keep from Elias hearing them, both of them knowing that things were progressing toward something more but not having quite enough courage to admit it to each other let alone the obstacle standing in their way, Elias. Olive had tried to maintain as much normalcy with Elias as she could. They still had their Tuesday night hangouts when his game schedule allowed it, and she rarely mentioned her growing friendship with Brock unless Elias brought him up. Everything was clicking into a dangerous place, with secrets developing between friends who never had them to begin with. 

The season had just started, and the schedule had been packed enough that Thanksgiving had come and gone, it now being closer to Halloween. Olive was absolutely horrified when Elias told her what they normally do for Candian Thanksgiving, which was apparently ordering takeout and drinking shitty beer. Thanksgiving was Olive’s favorite holiday and it was astonishing to her that anyone would willingly choose to not celebrate with home cooked food and a $5 bottle of red wine. Although luckily this time Elias had provided the refreshments for the evening, contributing his kitchen as a workspace and six bottles of champagne that likely cost more than her rent. 

But if there was one thing that Olive had insisted since meeting Elias all those months ago, it was that she was going to treat him to a Canadian Thanksgiving, even if it had to take place after the actual holiday. So, she looked at his schedule and nailed down a date and invited herself to use his gorgeous NHL player salary kitchen and made him invite the rest of the guys for an after the fact Thanksgiving. If she was going to educate Elias on the importance of mashed potatoes and roasted turkey, she was going to do it right, making sure that it was from a kitchen that had adequate counter space, for a group of people who could actually eat the amount of food she was making, and to spend some quality time with her growing group of friends. 

Olive tapped her hand impatiently on Elias’s door. It was only 11, but she already was running almost an hour late so she knew Elias should have been up and ready to help her with the preparations. Elias answered the door, his hair slightly messy and his glasses covering his eyes. Olive looked him up and down quickly before folding her hands across her chest.

“You clearly need to wake yourself up, so here’s my keys, go grab the rest of the groceries while I start,” she demanded. Olive brushed past Elias while he groaned softly and put on his slides, grunting as he closed the door behind him while he went toward the garage in his building. He loved Olive, but she was too loud for his mind sometimes, and he was beginning to dread the whole Thanksgiving experience that she had been so adamant about having for everyone. 

When he came back, he saw that Olive had already taken over the kitchen. There were pots and pans everywhere that he wasn’t even sure how she found, considering he didn’t even know he had them and she had taken off her jacket and had the sleeves of her Canucks sweatshirt that he didn’t even realize she had borrowed from him pushed up her arms. Elias set the bags on the counter and began unpacking them slowly while Olive continued to arrange various items on the counter. As he picked up the champagne bottles to put them in the fridge, he noticed the back of the sweatshirt, Boeser written in bold white font staring him right in the face. He froze as he looked over the name, nearly dropping the champagne when Olive turned to face him. 

“Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?” She laughed, grabbing the glass bottle from his hands and putting it into the fridge herself. 

“Why do you have Brock’s sweatshirt on?” Elias countered. Olive didn’t miss a beat as she came up with an excuse as to why she was wearing his sweatshirt, not wanting to tell him that he had left it at her apartment after spending the night there the week prior when they had gotten back from a particularly bad road trip and he needed a friend. 

“Oh, his normal dog person had to miss a day when you guys were gone so I went over to feed them and when I was leaving it started raining and he said to just grab something. I only wore it so I’d remember to give it back tonight, I have other clothes to change into for when everyone starts showing up,” she shrugged, almost surprising herself at how easily the lie slipped out from her lips. Olive hated lying to him, she hated not being able to tell her best friend that something as simple as wearing Brock’s sweatshirt sent butterflies swarming in her stomach, that the worn fabric with his name on the back made her feel safe and secure. But she knew how Elias felt about the idea of them, and while there were obvious feelings developing on both ends, she knew that until there was truly something to share, she shouldn’t tell him the truth about why she had the sweatshirt. 

Elias didn’t answer her, instead he finished laying out the various groceries until she shooed him out of the kitchen and into his own thoughts. He felt like something was off from her explanation, but he tried to shove it off as he went through the rest of his day. He took a shower and settled into the living room, popping back into the kitchen when it was nearing 5. 

“Elias, if you’re not going to help me peel these, you’re free to go back into the living room,” Olive scolded Elias jokingly. She had a bowl of potatoes and carrots in front of her, washed and ready to be prepared as one of the many dishes she was making for herself, Elias, and some of the other Canucks boys that would be coming over later. 

“No, I can help, it’s almost 5 and you need to shower you smell,” Elias smirked as he grabbed the peeler from Olive’s hands. She looked at the clock, noticing that there was only about an hour and a half left on the Turkey that was roasting in the oven. She looked over at Elias, who was holding the peeler backwards looking absolutely lost as he tried to figure out what to do with it. She sighed as she took it from his hands and turned it around, motioning how to correctly hold the small tool. Elias may have been smart when it came to playing hockey, but when it came to essential kitchen tasks he was certainly nowhere near being functional. 

“Can you handle doing this while I shower and get ready? All you have to do is peel them and put them into boiling water and set a timer. I’ll be done by then,” Olive asked, worry in her voice. Elias nodded at her, a smirk present on his lips as he spoke,

“Yes, stinky, go shower I can do it.” He said. Olive rolled her eyes and retreated toward his bathroom, grabbing her bag that she had brought with all of her things to get ready with her. 

As Olive got ready she could hear people starting to trickle into Elias’s apartment. She couldn’t help but listen in as she heard the voice she had been excited about hearing all afternoon. 

“Where’s Ollie-pop?” Brock said, his voice was a bit muffled from being a wall over from where she was doing her makeup. 

“Don’t call her that, it’s stupid.” She heard Elias reply followed by Brock laughing, their voices melting out of earshot as she assumed they went to the kitchen. 

She looked in the mirror and pulled a few strands of hair out of her braid to let them frame her face. She fussed around a bit, swiping on her dark red lipstick slowly as her stomach filled with nerves while more voices that she recognized started filling the room. She knew why she was so nervous, and it had to do with a certain blonde boy whose laugh she kept hearing as she slowly got dressed in Elias’s room. She took a big breath, dusting her hands off on her skirt before putting on a brave face and leaving Elias’s room. 

Olive panicked a little seeing all of the boys and a few of their girlfriends scattered around the room, champagne in their hands and indistinct chatter filling her ears. Brock noticed her first, he always did when she was in the room, and he got up to walk toward her. Olive froze as Brock stepped in front of her and handed her a glass of much needed champagne, a soft smile on his lips that was nearly torturous for her to look at without thinking about kissing him. She took a generous sip of the champagne, watching as his smile turned into a smirk sent in her direction. She could lie to Elias, she could maybe even put on a show for everybody else and pretend like her heart wasn’t leaping into Brock’s hands, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore about how she truly felt, and that was what terrified her as she stood in front of him. 

“I know Petey is terrible in the kitchen but wow was he that bad?” Brock teased as Olive finished the glass of champagne he handed her. He tried not to let his mind wander and focus on the red imprint her lips made on the champagne flute and what that did to him. Olive simply shrugged and traded the glass with his nearly full one, drinking down the light colored liquid from that while he let his eyes travel down her body. She was wearing a black knit sweater with the front tucked into olive green shorts, a gold belt buckle slightly visible. Her legs were covered in sheer black tights and she had no shoes on. Brock tried not to let himself think about how it all would look in a pile on his bedroom floor. 

“Hey handsome, I’d love to stay and chat but if anyone wants to eat I need to force Elias out of the kitchen,” Olive said. She shook her head at herself, wondering how she let that come out and tried to ignore the fact that Quinn was staring at her as she walked past a now blushing Brock. When she was out of earshot, Quinn patted Brock on the shoulder, laughing as he spoke, 

“Hey handsome, you should probably stop drooling over Olive before Petey notices.” Brock rolled his eyes and ignored his now snickering friend as he ran a hand through his hair, the compliment ringing in his ears. 

Both Olive and Brock spent the rest of dinner drinking probably too much champagne than was acceptable at Thanksgiving. But neither of them cared as they downed each glass, desperately trying to escape their own mutual feelings to keep the growing tension away from the presence of their friends. Brock spent all of dinner almost putting his hand on Olive’s thigh under the table, wanting to reassure her that he was there and wasn’t going anywhere no matter what anyone thought. Olive spent all of dinner pretending not to notice Brock’s hand moving toward her every so often, or his soft eyes when he looked at her while she was speaking. If you held her down and told her to recount what anyone else had said that night, she wouldn’t be able to do it because all that was being written on the sticky notes in her head was how much she adored the boy sitting next to her and the constant reminder that they had to be kept apart. 

Olive excused herself to the kitchen, using the excuse of  grabbing another bottle for the table, but really she just needed a moment to herself away from Brock to catch her short breath. She didn’t have long to regain her composure before Brock walked into the kitchen. Olive tried to suppress the way her eyes looked him up and down, the alcohol clouding her judgement as she looked at his beige sweater and dark jeans that were just tight enough on him to send her into overdrive while she thought about what it would be like to peel them off of him. Brock on the other hand took a step closer to the girl he had spent the entire night thinking about, the alcohol clouding his judgement with a burst of confidence and a newfound appreciation for the thrill of potentially getting caught in a compromising position in Petey’s kitchen.  

“You look absolutely fucking gorgeous tonight,” Brock smirked, resting both of his hands on either side of Olive as her back was pressed lightly against the counter. They had both had a bit too much to drink, and Brock wasn’t blind to the lingering looks they had been catching each other in from across the room all night. 

Olive put one hand on his chest, her dark painted nails a contrast to his light beige sweater. He smirked down at her, noticing the blush rising to her cheeks, matching that signature red lip that he currently was dying to smudge. He reached a hand down to the waistband of her olive green shorts, the black sweater she was wearing tucked in lightly in the front, and sheer tights covering the rest of her legs driving him wild. 

“I like these, especially,” He smirked at her, the champagne providing him the confidence to give such compliments in Petey’s kitchen with everyone just a few feet away, laughter muffled through the walls. He always thought Olive was gorgeous, but something about seeing her so happy amongst all of their friends had his mind reeling all night, and the alcohol was doing nothing to calm his feelings about her down. 

“Oh yeah?” Olive smiled as she wrapped a hand around the base of his neck, tugging lightly on the ends of his blonde hair and watching as his eyes turned a darker shade as he looked at her. Brock was warm, the kitchen was warm, and her heart felt warm as they shared this not so innocent moment that seemed like it was long overdue, despite having known each other just a few weeks. Olive felt a comfort with Brock that she didn’t quite understand yet. She wasn’t able to confront her feelings in a meaningful way, instead she settled for finding any and all words that reminded her of him, scribbling them down not too neatly to save for him on pale pink post-it notes stuck amongst various pages of her navy blue notebook, never far from her person or heart. Just as quickly as his warmth was enveloping her, it went away as Brock pulled back and ran a hand nervously though his hair, a slight cough coming from his chest as she looked past him and was met with the curious eye of Elias who had walked in holding two empty bottles of the very wine that had gotten them into this mess. 

“Brock I think Quinn needs you,” Elias grumbled, setting the champagne bottles in his recycling bin with a crash that was so loud it was almost impossible for Olive or Brock to ignore the not so subtle shift in his mood. Brock raised his brow at Olive, silently asking if she was alright before she nodded in response, waiving him off with her hand, the dainty bracelets on her wrist clanking together softly as she moved. 

Elias watched closely as Brock left the kitchen and was out of earshot and he turned his body to face his friend. He slowly moved over to the sink, rinsing off a couple of the plates that had occupied the stainless steel space, the tension in the air between them was enough to nearly sober Olive up, her intentions with Brock quickly dissipating under Elias’s intense stare. She could almost feel the disappointment radiating off of him as she waited for him to speak. 

“Stop flirting with Boes,” was all he managed, his voice curt and short in the usual Elias way but with an undertone of annoyance coming from him. Olive was a bit surprised by his words, knowing that Elias had never expressed interest in her let alone anyone for anything that could amount to something long-term, so she wasn’t sure if this was jealousy he was exhibiting or something else. She sighed softly, readjusting her sweater and brushing some of her hair that had fallen into her eyes out of them. 

“I’m not,” She argued back and it wasn’t clear who she was trying to convince more, Elias or herself, because if she were to think back to the moment before Elias walked in, who’s to say that it wouldn’t have ended in a kiss that had been on her mind since Brock had walked into her life that night at the bar. 

“I just think there needs to be a boundary,” Elias shrugged once more and Olive found herself growing irritable at his dismissive tone. As far as she was concerned, her and Brock were both adults and while Elias may have been the common denominator between them, he had no right to dictate what type of relationship that would develop between them. 

“Boundaries?” She scoffed, walking across the kitchen to grab his arm, forcing him to look her in the eyes and say what he meant. Elias frowned at his friend, but held firm in his requests as he gently lifted her fingers from his wrist.

“It would bother me if you and Brock were together,” was all he said as he turned off the running water and went to exit the kitchen, leaving Olive standing there to relish in her own thoughts. She did her best to distance herself from Brock for the remainder of the night, trying to remain calm and collected as she hugged him quickly goodbye while Elias’s eyes hovered on the two of them from across the room. She sighed as he walked out the door, almost regretting the mess she was so willingly getting herself into.  

The awkward goodbye from Thanksgiving didn’t last that long, as Olive found herself falling figuratively right back into Brock’s arms. She had been spending copious amounts of time at his condo, sometimes staying there while he was away for games and watching his dogs. She felt comfortable when it was just them, their friendship steadily progressing when they were able to be alone with each other. The problem was that they both knew it wasn’t just a friendship that had sparked between them, there was something more pulling them together and it was evident in how they spoke to each other, and how they touched each other more than anyone who could be just friends would. When they were alone she didn’t think about it being a secret, she was comfortable with Brock. 

When they were with Elias, they slipped into another type of friendship, one that felt entirely wrong for how close they were. Brock hated lying to his best friend and there were so many instances where he would almost tell Petey just how much he liked Olive, but then he would remember that bruise from what was now months prior and he would freeze, letting the words hang in the air without ever getting them out. When Elias made his mind up about something, that was it, and part of Brock was beginning to accept that anything with Olive had to be just between them even if it hurt in the long run. 

--------------

It was now late November and Olive was comfortably maneuvering her body around Brock’s kitchen, wearing his sweatshirt, her overnight bag sitting inconspicuously out of the room on his bed. If any outside person were to be watching, this was a comfortable couple in an established relationship, spending their night together. Sometimes for Olive it truly felt that way, and while nothing physical between them had occurred past some inarguably too intimate cuddling while they slept, she wanted it to be true. She wanted all of his nights and mornings, she wanted to kiss him and hold his hand in public, she wanted to tell Elias that she had completely fallen for his best friend and have him accept and support it. But that wasn’t the scenario, and instead she settled for the almost that she could share with Brock, investing her heart even further into something that might never actually happen. 

Brock leaned his back against the counter, taking a sip of his beer and watching Olive as she started adding in various spices. Brock was by no means a chef, let alone anything close to an average cook. His expertise rested in baked chicken and steamed vegetables, and olive chastised him when she arrived with groceries and found out he didn’t have any spices to use until she dragged him to the store and made him stockpile all of the seasoning that he could only imagine how to use. There was something about olive standing in his kitchen that for the first time made his place feel like a home. He let his mind drift so far as to think about her there all the time, an image that left him nearly chugging the rest of his liquid courage and walking up behind her at the stove. He reached his hand to her waist, letting it settle there for balance as he wrapped his other arm around to pick up the spoon and take a bite of the soup she was making. 

“Brock Boeser! Stop it, it’s not ready yet!” She shrieked, swatting his hand away softly. He knew she wasn’t truly upset, her laugh echoing softly after. Brock rested his chin on her shoulder as he mindlessly traced his fingertips along her waist. He felt his mind shift back into a trance of what domesticity with Olive would look like, and he had to keep focusing on the fact that it wasn’t real or he would have kissed her by now. 

Olive relaxed slightly into his arms, momentarily forgetting about the circumstances and reaching her arm up to thread her fingers through his hair. She was stuck in the moment, her mind racing and completely forgetting about the reality of Brock not actually being hers to take. She almost felt like she was out of her own body watching herself as she turned her head back to face him, using her hand to softly glide him down toward her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his hand gripped her waist tighter, their lips almost touching. Her lips touched the corner of his mouth and it snapped her out of the daze she was in, with her jumping away from him and catching her breath, cheeks red and heart pounding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ she struggled to find the words, raising a hand to her chest with the hopes that it would somehow calm the rapidness of her heart. All Brock did was smile, his calm demeanor never falling despite his insides scrambling at the fact that Olive practically kisses him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, taking a step closer to her and kissing her forehead softly, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary until Olive relaxed into him, slowly wrapping her arms around his waist and putting her head in his chest. She was trying not to let herself get carried away by the intimacy of the moment or his heartbeat pounding nearly as fast as hers in his chest.

“Uhm, right,” She frowned, heart still racing as she backed away from him and focussed her attention back on the soup. She could feel her cheeks becoming hotter as she felt embarrassment flood through her body at what just happened. She wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, almost kissing Brock and missing, or having to hear him brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. For the most part, Olive always felt that Brock and her were on the same page, the sticky note with the words for him sitting comfortably next to her own. She thought back to Thanksgiving and how she was so sure he was going to kiss her until Elias walked in and he didn’t, the same feeling of disappointment that filled her then was creeping up once again.  

Brock didn’t miss a beat as he kissed her cheek once more, his hand settling back onto her hip as if it perfectly fit there. He shifted into conversation, effortlessly pulling Olive back out from her own head in the most reassuring of ways. She focussed on the soup in front of her on the stove instead of the moment that they almost shared because if she thought about it too hard, she might do something really stupid and kiss him again, this time not missing the target. 

By mid December, Brock had spent most of his rare days off preparing for the holidays. His family was coming out to Vancouver this time around because with the Canucks schedule this year, it would give them the ability to spend more than a few days together. Brock normally loved going home for Christmas, he loved spending time back at home, finding comfort in the harsh Minnesota winters that most people from there dreaded. But he didn’t mind the change this year, because it meant more time with his family and he had planned a surprise for his dad to come to see one of his games just after Christmas. So, to prepare for the momentous holiday that was Christmas with the Boeser’s, he tried his best to emulate the tree and decorations from home, filling his call log with facetime calls to both his mom and brother trying his best to get it absolutely right. 

After about an hour of trying to untangle the Christmas lights that were tossed carelessly in a storage bin he didn’t realize he even had, he felt his frustration growing. He just wanted everything to go smoothly for everyone, but reality slapped him in the face with the realization that while he may have appeared to be an adult, he absolutely would not know how to host anything let alone Christmas if he couldn’t even untangle lights. He was supposed to see Olive later that night, wanting to take her to dinner in celebration of her new dissertation proposal being approved, but now he was questioning whether or not he would even have the time to. Just as he was picking up his phone, the girl in question was calling, a photo of her sleeping with Coolie on her lap lighting up his screen and making him smile softly. 

“Hey Ollie,” Brock sighed into the phone as he stood up. 

“Okay, what’s wrong,” Olive laughed, not meaning to make fun of Brock but noticing immediately the melancholiness that he was hiding in his voice.

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh at me,” Brock joked, switching the call to FaceTime so that he could see her. Olive smiled at him through the screen, her messy bun sitting almost perfectly on top of her head and her glasses pushed up on her forehead. He couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing his old sweatshirt, the one that she had brought to Thanksgiving but never actually gave back. Seeing her in his clothes was almost like he had a piece of her, something that he knew he wanted. Olive rolled her eyes slightly, a teasing smile on her red lips as she urged him to continue. All Brock did was show her the mess he had made on the floor. When he flipped the camera back to him he could see that she was walking, and he heard keys jingling in her hands as she moved around her apartment. 

“Senseless: Lacking common sense,” she teased as she struggled to lock her door one handed, adding, “I’ll tell you what, I will forgive you for obviously not being able to take me out to a fancy restaurant in Yaletown tonight to celebrate my dissertation if, and only if there is Greek food on the way to your place by the time I get there and you get those horrendous lights somewhere that I will not ever see them.” 

“Deal, babe,” Brock laughed, already moving to throw the tangled lights back into the bin that they came from.    

When Olive showed up at his apartment 30 minutes later complaining about the traffic, he already had Greek food as promised from her favorite place sitting on the counter waiting for her. She walked in, wearing his old sweatshirt and a pair of grey leggings, hair up as always and even in her relaxed state he thought she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. 

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you, Brock Boeser?” Olive moaned as she pulled herself from his arms and started opening the bag, the delightful smells filling the air around them as she handed him a container. 

“Careful, you might regret that statement when you start helping me decorate,” He said as he took the container from her hands, letting his fingers brush hers gently. 

“I get you, Christmas decorations, and Greek food, nothing could ever be better than that, Brockadoodle,” She smiled and Brock nearly melted into a puddle on the floor, the stupid nickname toasting his heart each time she said it. Olive was so different from him in so many ways, she was smarter, louder, and more sure of herself than he ever was or had been. But his favorite thing was that he no longer could count on one hand the things he was starting to love about her, he found himself studying the small mannerisms that you don’t notice about a person until you’re falling in love, and while there was still a metaphorical fence separating the two of them, he was already building an arsenal of tools to start tearing it down. 

The two of them decorated for hours, laughter and distractions coming between them as the sun went down and the city lights illuminated through the room from the floor to ceiling windows in his living room. Olive let out a satisfied sigh as she flicked off the living room light, letting the white Christmas lights sparkle around the room. The moment felt almost too domestic, especially when Brock came up behind her and wrapped his arms around the middle of her, pressing a soft kiss onto her shoulder and muttering a soft thank you to her. She placed her hands over his and patted them lightly, her smile growing along with the butterflies that he always seemed to put into her stomach. 

“They’re going to love it,” she whispered, her heart heavy with the realization that this wasn’t for her, this wasn’t a Christmas that they were spending together, because they weren’t together. Olive slipped from his arms and went over to the couch, settling in next to Milo who was currently sleeping. She shook any heaviness from her heart as she patted the spot next to her and Brock walked over. 

“Are you staying tonight?” He asked, hopeful that the answer was yes. 

“Mhm,” Olive nodded, pulling the blanket over both of their laps and settling back into his arms while he turned on the TV. She snuggled closer to him, resting her hand on his thigh underneath the blanket as she curled her legs behind her and let her eyes close. 

“Enrapture: give intense joy to,” She smiled into his side as she gave him another word for how he made her feel. The words written in her notes slowly become variations and synonyms for the same concept, her falling in love with Brock. It was the only way she knew how to express it to him, giving him subtle hints of it as she drifted asleep, knowing that with the three squeezes he gave to her hand that he felt the same. 

--------------

A few days later, Brock found himself bickering with Petey as he tried to get the last bit of his Christmas shopping done before the team went on a road trip, coming back just the day before Brock’s whole family came into town.

Brock opened the door to the old bookshop and held it as Petey walked in, the scent of old books lingering in the air. He had been hunting for a first edition copy of Jane Eyre, Olive’s favorite book for weeks. He had sent countless emails to various shops around Vancouver and Victoria, and made several phone calls inquiring about the book before he found this shop, a quaint small family run bookstore on Vancouver Island. When he got the email from the owner saying that they had one copy he was already out with Petey, having no choice but to bring him along or risk the one present that had been the most important for him to find being gone by the time he could come back. So, he asked the shop owner to hold the book, and dragged Petey to the ferry to get to the Island. 

Petey to Brock’s surprise didn’t ask too many questions about how the plans for the afternoon had shifted, and Brock for once was thankful for that stupid Mr. Sensitive nickname that the team had dubbed him with because now he could use that as his excuse for why getting Olive, someone who was just his friend now, such a sentimental Christmas gift. Elias wandered slowly into the bookshop, looking much too modern in his beige Essentials sweatshirt and dark pants in comparison to the warm shop. The shop was something straight out of what he imagined a store like this to look like, with books scattered along old wooden shelves, and a velvet couch sitting at the center of the room, a small black cat sleeping on its cushions. 

Elias walked over to the cat, reaching down to let the small animal sniff his hand and get acquainted with him before scratching it softly behind his ears. 

“That’s Leo,” a sharp but friendly voice called causing both Brock and Elias to look up toward the woman who was coming out from between two shelves, a stack of dusty books cradled in her hands and glasses hanging from a cord around her neck. 

“Well hello, Leo,” Petey greeted the cat, continuing to softly pet him until he heard soft purrs. Brock watched on with an unrecognizable look on his face, not because he didn’t like cats, but because he had never seen a cat in any sort of store before. Petey noticed his friend’s confusion and did not pass up on the opportunity at making a joke to him about it. 

“I know you only like dogs, Boes but you don’t have to stare at poor Leo like he’s ugly,” Elias commented, Brock immediately groaning slightly in response. 

Brock continued to ignore his friend, instead he paid for the book, thanking the woman profusely behind the counter. Elias watched and listened and they spoke, his mind wandering as the words sank in.

“We don’t normally have something like this in stock so when I got your email I knew we had to hold it. Must be for someone special to go through all this effort,” the woman smiled at Brock, a fondness present in her voice that he recognized. Brock smiled softly thinking about it, for a moment he forgot that Petey was within earshot and he almost let himself confess to this woman who owned a quaint little bookshop, something that Olive had always wanted to do. But then Elias came walking up, grabbing the book from his hands and he remembered that he couldn’t say how he truly felt, instead masking his feelings as best he could as he nodded. 

“Just a friend,” he smiled and Elias scoffed, knowing that this gift was far too special for it to be for just a friend. 

As the two of them walked out of the store, Elias didn’t say anything. He chose to live in his own world of denial, one that ignored the events that had just happened because if he were to face them he would have to face the fact that his closest friends had been lying to him and had gone behind his back in the exact way that he practically begged them not to. Instead he did what he knew how to do best, cracking a joke about Brock being too sensitive for his own good and then changing the subject as they continued with the rest of their shopping. 

Days later, Olive was sitting in her kitchen, frustration growing within herself as her own procrastination had taken over. She took a sip of the now cold coffee that had been sitting on the table next to her as another far too confusing video about how to hand bind a book played on her computer screen. There were papers scattered everywhere, various notes and lists of words that reminded her of Brock and how he made her feel, some that she had read in books of her own and others that she went searching for because her own feelings became too much and she needed the simplicity of putting them into one word for him. It was late and she had to literally give him this tomorrow, cursing herself for procrastinating so badly on his gift. Brock had made her feel so many of the things that she never knew another person was capable of making her feel and even if it took all night until her fingers cramped, she was determined to bind this damn book for him. 

She nearly cried as she held the finished book in her hands, the binding was terrible, and the writing on the inside was messy but she had finished it, and for it being nearly two in the morning that was enough for her. Olive was never one for crafts, her artistic abilities had stopped with horrible crayon drawings that her mother used to display on the fridge from when she was five. She was a reader, a philosopher when it came to spoken and written words, she wasn’t a crafty person by any means, but she was proud of this and hoped that Brock was receptive and not off put by the gift. 

She chose to wrap it in a small bag, setting it on the counter by her keys so that she wouldn’t forget it the following morning when she left for his house. She went through her nighttime routine, a small smile on her lips as she thought about seeing Brock the next day and giving it to him as she fell asleep. 

Olive was nervous as she drove the now familiar route to Brock’s condo. She knew that his family was in town and had told him that they could exchange their gifts after the New Year once things had settled down, but Brock was insistent that they needed to do it before Christmas. So, Olive found herself driving through the windy streets on a small detour on her way out of the city to her own childhood home in Kelowna. She had her favorite Christmas album playing softly from the car stereo as she rationalized and talked softly with herself that this wasn’t a big deal and she might not even meet anyone in his family. 

She typed in the gate code that she had memorized over the last few months and pulled her car into the guest spot, seeing Brock’s Range Rover parked next to it. She rolled her eyes, thinking again about how impractical that car was and reminding herself that Brock wasn’t exactly normal as she stepped out of her own car. She smoothed out her tights, a dark green suede skirt falling a few inches above her knees, a cream colored oversized knit sweater keeping the top part of her warm. Her hair was in her signature messy bun on top of her head, and glasses resting on her nose.

She anxiously brushed the stray hairs from her eyes with one hand as she held onto the small wrapped bag in the other as she stepped into the elevator. She walked slowly out of the elevator and down the hall to the front door she had seen many times over the last few months as she tried to give herself an encouraging pep talk about how this wasn’t that weird of a situation and Brock would surely like the gift she had picked out for him. She bit her lip slightly as she raised her hand to knock on his door, the gold bracelets on her wrist dangling as she knocked three times. When the door opened she was met with a familiar face that she had seen in many photographs scattered through Brock’s condo. 

“Dad, I got it!” She heard Brock’s voice from down the hall, his footsteps coming quickly after. Brock’s dad smiled at her warmly, stepping aside so she could come in. She looked around, noticing the tree set up in the living room with a humble amount of presents underneath it. There was a beautiful flower arrangement on his counter, something she only assumed his mom must have picked out since Brock was hopeless when it came to flowers, and the Christmas decorations that she had helped him with just days prior sprinkled throughout the kitchen and leading into the living room. She could hear various voices coming from around the corner and she felt a bit awkward and like she was invading their family time as she stood there in his kitchen, a bit out of place.

Brock rounded the corner and her eyes widened at the sight of him. He was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, with a reindeer on the front of it, dark jeans, and bright red socks. His hair was sticking slightly out of the black beanie that he had on his head and she could tell he had freshly shaved. He looked good, even in his tacky yet endearing holiday sweater. But what caught her attention most was the little boy in his arms at his hip. She recognized him immediately as his nephew who he had told her so much about, and her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight of Brock with the toddler. Seeing it in photos was one thing, but with him standing in front of her, a bright smile on his face and his nephew in his arms, she might have collapsed right there if not for knowing his dad was just feet away watching this exchange occur. 

The little boy waved excitedly at Olive, twisting himself in Brock’s arms to reach out toward her. Brock settled him down, lowering him onto his feet while holding his hands up so that he could stand. 

“Easton, can you say hi to Olive?” He said to the boy, squatting down so that he was as level as he could be with him and taking Easton’s hand and directing it toward Olive. It didn’t take long for him to break from Brock’s light hold, tumbling over toward Olive before she could fully react. She panicked as Easton grabbed onto her tights, wrapping both of his small sweater covered arms around her calves and Brock chuckled softly in the background. She looked over to Brock with pleading eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries by picking the young boy up. 

“Careful buddy, you don’t want to knock the pretty girl over,” she heard his dad say from behind her, nodding softly at Brock before exiting the room and leaving Olive alone there with Easton on her legs and Brock smiling adoringly in front of her. 

“Let’s go to my room, yeah?” Brock asked, leaning down to pick up his nephew and lead her further into his condo that she knew well. He handed the toddler back to his brother, quickly introducing Olive to everyone before grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers as he tugged her toward his bedroom. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure that his entire family probably heard it. All she could focus on was that Brock was holding her hand, he had held her hand in front of his entire family, and her mind was going in circles over the simple show of affection as they went into his room, leaving the door slightly open. 

Brock dropped her hand and Olive quickly tried to recover from the slight pang of sadness that she felt from the loss of contact. Brock handed her the package, it was poorly wrapped and very obviously a book, but she already loved it anyways. 

“Open yours first, Ollie.” Brock said. She carefully handed him the bag, biting her lip softly as she carefully ripped the messily wrapped rectangular shaped present. She let out a small gasp when she realized what it was, letting her hands run over the worn out pages as she took a step toward Brock.

“How did you find this?” She asked him. She had been looking for a first edition for what felt like months, having visited what felt like almost every bookstore in the city multiple times looking for it. Brock ran a hand nervously through his hair, a soft blush and smile present in his features.

“I, uh, found it at this small place on Vancouver Island, went out there last week.” He shrugged, doing his best at ignoring the fact that this much effort was not normal for friends. He swallowed nervously as Olive walked toward him and settled into his arms, her fingers sliding around his sides before one hand pressed against his jaw.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned in. This was it, he was finally going to kiss Olive, a moment that was pent up and he had been waiting for since that night in the dive bar all those months ago. Olive’s lips were almost to his as his eyes fluttered closed, just barely grazing before the door flew open and Olive jumped back, coughing lightly and eyes wide open in shock. Easton had tumbled into the room, Brock’s sister in law chasing after him and picking him up. She clearly read the room as she smirked toward Brock and a now embarrassed Olive, picking up her son and closing the door behind them as she left. 

“I should, uhm, get back on the road,” Olive stuttered out. 

“Right, yeah,” Brock mumbled out, his lips burning from the almost contact as Olive rushed out of his place, waving goodbye to his family as she left. Brock closed the front door behind her, turning to be faced with every member of his family looking at him in a way that made him want to go back into his room and scream into a pillow. He already had to deal with his own feelings, Olive’s feelings, and Petey’s ridiculous demands, the last thing he wanted to tack onto the list was explaining to his family that she was more than a friend but not his girlfriend yet. 

“I liked your girlfriend, Brock,” His dad smiled and Brock nearly collapsed right there. Of course his dad liked her, another nail in the coffin that contained his desire for Olive to actually be his girlfriend. 

“She’s not my girlfriend, dad.” Brock shrugged, trying to move on from the subject for the rest of the day as they continued to celebrate the holiday.  

--------------

Brock could hear the countdown beginning, each one of his friends echoing the numbers down to the New Year, but it all felt like static in the background as he watched Olive. The lights on the roof were dimmed, presumably for the fireworks that were likely going to be set off when time turned to midnight. He looked at Olive and to him she was the brightest thing of the year even if it hadn’t started yet. He stood off to the side with his now empty drink in his hand watching her as she popped open a bottle of some expensive European champagne that Jacob had sworn by as being the best. 

Her gold dress lit up in contrast to her crimson red lips, her long dark hair curled and falling down her back, something that was rare for Olive. Brock’s maroon bomber jacket was hanging from her body, something he had given her just hours before as it started to get dark. But what really was getting to Brock was seeing her laugh as she popped the cork, champagne bubbling out of the bottle and all over the front of her dress. He could hear the countdown hit one as everyone cheered for the new year and he watched as Olive looked around the rooftop, a gorgeous smile on her red lips as she made eye contact with him. She raised the bottle to her lips, taking a long drink before setting it down on the table and walking toward him. With each step she took, her smile grew, and Brock knew right then and there that he loved Olive Burke, champagne stained dress and all. 

Olive came tumbling into Brock, tripping slightly and landing right in his arms, laughing loudly as Brock realized just how much she had to drink that night. He grabbed her waist to steady her as she looked at him, her expression inquisitive and different than he had ever seen her look at him before. Olive and Brock had been dancing around each other since they met, both of them steadily falling into each other with no true intentions of stopping. There was a roadblock though, and as Brock looked at the girl he somehow fell in love with all he could hear in his head was Petey’s disapproval, a steady echo in his mind stopping him from pulling her closer every time. 

 Olive reached her hand up to his hair, running her fingers through it softly as her other hand rested on his chest, sending Brock’s head into a tailspin of worry that she was going to start leaning in. As much as he wanted this and her, he didn’t want it under these circumstances, with Olive having significantly more to drink than he had. It may have hurt to not be able to kiss Olive for New Years, but it would hurt worse for him to know that he had even marginally taken advantage of a situation that she was too drunk to have coherent thoughts over. 

“You’re so pretty, Brockadoodle.” Olive laughed, leaning her head slightly into his chest, the warmth radiating from his body as they stood on the roof. Fireworks were going off in the distance, lighting up the sky above the water although neither of them were looking. 

“You’re pretty drunk, Ollie.” He smiled at her, watching as her face pulled into a sour look at his lack of acceptance of her compliments. She pouted slightly, leaning her head into his chest and shivering a bit, all of the noise passing by around her as she leaned into Brock. The noise and commotion didn’t matter, all that mattered was him and she knew that this year she was going to be brave. She was going to tell him that she loved him, even if it didn’t end in them together. 

“Will you take me home?” She asked, yawning slightly. Brock steadied her in his arms, setting his glass down and wrapping her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it as she smiled drunkenly at him. 

“Yeah, Olive, I’ll get you home safe,” he nodded as they left the party together, Elias looking on in the distance but too drunk to fully comprehend what was happening right in front of him. Instead the denial crept back into his head as he watched his friends leave hand in hand on a night where the saying about who you spend the new year with is who you’ll be with that year would ultimately ring true. 

Brock pulled the covers over Olive as she slowly closed her eyes, the drunkenness taking over her body as the room slightly spun around her. Her heart was heavy, the excitement of the night wearing off and the sadness of knowing that she was spending New Years essentially alone kicking in stronger than it would have if she was sober. Brock started to get up, thinking she was already asleep when he was startled by her grabbing his arm slightly.

“Why didn’t you kiss me at midnight?” She whispered, her eyes nearly watering as she sat up in bed to look at him. Olive was never one to shy away from her feelings, when she liked someone, she told them. But Brock was different, he was sweet, and kind, and everything she didn’t know she wanted wrapped up into one person who had steadily become a constant in her mess of a life. She had only known him for such a short time, all things considered, but now she couldn’t picture her life without him. Elias’s words constantly stop her from admitting her feelings for him, a sharp echo of “you’ll run him over and leave him in the dust,” stabbing her in the chest every time she comes close. So for now, she took what she could from Brock, settling on the dance that the two of them kept doing, sharing her love only in written words with the hope that someday he would decipher it. 

Brock frowned, hating that he was unintentionally hurting Olive. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a few seconds while he held her cheek. 

“Happy New Year’s, Ollie.” 

--------------

When none of the group was voted in for the All-Star game that year, Olive knew they should take advantage of the week off together, suggesting that they all go out to Whistler and get a cabin, an idea that secretly she knew Brock would love because he was always down for things involving the snow. Largely everyone agreed, and so she found herself settling into a beautiful rented cabin with Brock, Elias, Quinn, and Quinn’s girlfriend on their way to the mountains. 

“Really? Neither of you are willing to go?” Brock sighed, looking at Petey and Quinn pointedly. Petey shrugged his shoulders, mumbling something about not wanting to be cold and Quinn actively ignored the question and got up and left the room.

“Ollie,” Brock looked at Olive, who was sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in her hands, actively trying to ignore the conversation that had been taking place. She set her mug down, looking over at Brock. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, it was quite the opposite really. 

Brock was standing there, eyes soft as he watched her, a dark green beanie covering his hair, a thick grey sweatshirt on his body. Olive had to shake the thoughts she had been having about him all morning. She was still recovering from seeing him sleepy when he first woke up, his breath hot on her neck while he reached around her to grab his own mug of coffee, a soft good morning coming from his tired, thick voice. His lips had ghosted softly over her neck, a moment that was ripped too soon when he seemed to wake up a bit more and remember that this wasn’t what either of them thought it was. He couldn’t just kiss her good morning like she wanted him to, so the moment passed without words, an awkward dance in the hours before Elias and Autumn retreated from their beds. 

Brock wordlessly left the kitchen after that moment, taking Olive’s breath with him as he did, and she had spent the rest of the morning actively trying to avoid his presence. But with him standing near her once more, looking like the boyfriend she wanted him to be, she found herself humming in agreement on going sledding with him, heart rate rising as his smile increased after she had said yes. 

Olive was borderline panicking, wondering why she had to be so infatuated with the boy looking at her. She adjusted the dark blue beanie on her head, and zipped up her parka, an added layer of protection over her heart to hopefully prevent Brock from invading into her any further. She plastered on a fake smile, an attempt at covering the nerves that were racing through her body as she kept trying to remind herself that this was no big deal, just sledding with a friend. 

Brock opened the door to the SUV and gestured for Olive to get in, watching as she tried to get settled with her large puffy coat on. He was standing there debatably too long, admiring the little flakes of snow scattered in the ends of her hair that were hanging out of the beanie he lent her. He felt a strange pull of affection at the idea of her in his clothes, a picture entering his mind of seeing her in the morning, one of his sweatshirts draped over her body as he kissed her. 

“Brock, are we going or are you just going to stand there holding the door,” Olive’s tone was light, and it caused his picture to fade, a slight heat rising to his face as if he was caught doing something wrong. Brock liked Olive, as so much more than a friend, and when her smirk softened into a smile, he felt as if he saw his own feelings reflecting back at him through her eyes.

“You look like a cute marshmallow.” He said, a grin on his face and affection in his eyes. Olive blushed slightly at his words that did nothing to calm the beat of her heart as she rolled her eyes at Brock, barely skipping a beat as she responded with a cheeky comment of her own.

“Thank you, I will be expecting a letter of appreciation for my impact when you make me s’mores later.” 

“Anything for you, Ollie,” Brock responded, handing her his phone as he turned on the car, giving her free reign of the music that would softly play in the background as they drove on toward the small town. 

Brock drove carefully down the highway, dark green trees covered in snow on either side. It reminded him a bit of the scene in Minnesota where he grew up, cold winters with endless snowfall. But the difference here was that he had Olive next to him, the girl who he had grown so fond of over the last few months, humming softly along to the song playing through the speakers, watching as the trees flew by. Winter didn’t seem so cold with her there, and for a moment he forgot about Petey asking him not to fall for her, he didn’t think about the fact that this was a short week trip in the middle of the season, all that was dancing through his mind was the girl in the passenger seat next to him and how he was going to finally have the resolve to kiss her today.

They quickly rented a sled, his contract preventing them from anything more physical than that like skiing or snowboarding, and headed off toward the bunny slopes. They struggled to get the sled underneath them, Brock insisting he could do it as he pushed them off to start going down the mountain, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she was sitting in between his legs. It was all going well until he tried to turn, sending them tumbling out of the slide and into the snow. 

Olive laughed loudly as Brock fell on top of her, reacting quickly to catch himself so that he wouldn’t land on her or hurt her. Her laugh was his favorite song, something that he could set on repeat and listen to for hours, not because it was particularly beautiful, but because each time she laughed it was genuine and the happiness that radiated from her was something he never wanted to stop seeing. 

It would be so easy for him to kiss her, with her hair wildy spread out in the snow, flakes of it coming down and melting on her warm cheeks, Olive looking at him like she was standing on the dock, hand reaching out and ready for him to make the jump with her. His body was flushed against hers, hovered over her in a way that felt comfortable and right, visions of what this would be like if the setting were different clouding his judgement. He stayed hovered over Olive for a moment, watching as her eyes flicked down to his lips and back up, hope flashing through his mind that if he did kiss her, she would kiss him back. All of the commotion around them seemingly evaporated as he stayed there, her hand steady on his side, his body hovering over hers, snow indented behind them from where they slid off of the path. 

“Can I kiss you?” Brock whispered as he leaned even closer, his own stomach twisting with nerves as he looked down at Olive for her answer. When she slowly nodded, he felt like his chest was going to explode as he leaned in. Suddenly, time wasn’t passing leisurely anymore, it was quick as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers.  

Olive reacted quickly to the kiss, months of pent up glances and moments where she thought this very thing was going to happen causing her to ignore all of the reasons why it shouldn’t. She reached her hand up, pulling Brock even closer to her than he already was as she kissed him back, her heart doing flips in her chest and her body lighting up with each passing second. 

Everything about the kiss felt right to Olive. She had spent so long dancing on this tightrope with Brock that it felt like one of those slow motion scenes in a bad Hallmark Christmas movie, where the characters would finally pull together and realize their feelings. But this wasn’t a movie, and there wasn’t a Christmas love story to be had for Brock and Olive in late January. 

Brock pulled himself from her, offering a smile that was quite possibly the most incredible smile Olive had seen from him as he held his hand out to her to help pull her up. When she was standing and facing him, she leaned up and kissed him softly once more, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, the threads of her heart seaming together as she was able to add the first real tally to the list of almost encounters, ones that had been haunting her thoughts since that night in September when Brock had shown up, crashing completely into her with his lopsided smile, bad taste in beer, and a slightly sunburnt nose.

Olive felt indescribable as she walked through the small town, hand tightly wrapped in Brock’s. For the first time since meeting him she felt like they were where they were supposed to be. They continued walking back toward the car, having stopped in a small cafe for a hot chocolate, something that Olive had insisted was necessary after a day in the snow.

“Brock, stop! You’re going to make me spill this” Olive laughed as Brock pulled her by the waist further into his arms. He was pressing soft kisses to her cheeks that were still tinted pink from the cold. 

“I just really like kissing you,” he responded as he brought his right hand up to Olive’s cheek, kissing her softly for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. It was something Olive wasn’t growing tired of, all of the pent up feelings for the boy standing in front of her fluttering into the open in a way that they hadn’t been able to before. 

After helping Olive into the car, Brock reached over and grabbed her hand once more, threading his fingers with hers as he drove down the highway back to the cabin. Both of them were on edge as they thought about what this afternoon had meant, and how they were going to tell their friend who seemed to want nothing to do with the idea of them being together. Olive was bouncing her knee slightly as they got closer to the cabin and Brock put the car into park, neither of them making a move toward getting out of the car and going inside. 

“What are we going to tell him?” Olive was the first to break the silence that had been growing between them. Her voice was soft and hesitant as she spoke and she was desperately trying to keep her own insecurities down as she waited for Brock’s response. She knew what she wanted, she wanted to walk into that house with Brock by her side and she wanted her best friend to accept and be happy for them. But that desire was a large one, and even though Brock had given her every indication that he wanted all of that and more with her, if he didn’t say that it would probably crush her in a way that she wasn’t prepared to handle. 

Olive bit her lip as Brock squeezed her hand softly. He turned his body in the car, unwrapping his fingers from hers and instead bringing his hand softly to her cheek, pulling her a bit to look at him as he spoke. 

“I want you, I’ve wanted you since I met you, Olive. You’re this incredible, whirlwind of a person and you’re absolutely too smart and beautiful and overall good for me but somehow you tumbled into my life and have had a hold on my heart since.” 

Olive looked into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity in them. She smiled into his hand and leaned forward to kiss him once more.

“I like you so much,” she said against his lips, leaning her body over the center console to be as close to him as possible in such a small space, not preparing for what was potentially to come. In that moment, none of it mattered. It didn’t matter that Elias didn’t want them together, it didn’t matter that she had never been able to open up to someone in the way that she had with Brock, and it didn’t matter that she was terrified at the idea of what this could become. All that mattered to Olive was Brock, and she would do anything she could to hold onto him for as long as possible. 

“I like you too, Ollie, so much,” He whispered, pulling her in once more before bracing himself for the conversation with Petey that was likely to follow. Brock felt safe with Olive, he didn’t feel like he was compromising his heart by handing it over to her, he felt like he was investing it into something that would grow and evolve into a love that he didn’t know he ever wanted. He gave her one last kiss before they both got out of the car, lacing their fingers together yet again as they walked up to the front porch and into the house. 

Brock helped Olive get out of her coat, hanging the oversized parka on the metal coat rack by the door before looking around the hallway slightly to see if anyone would catch him stealing one more kiss. He felt like they were lovestruck teenagers, the thrill of sneaking around getting a bit to his head as he pulled her in one last time, pressing his lips softly to hers while she ran her hands through his hair. She grabbed his hand once more, leading him further into the house. 

Petey looked up from his spot on the old craftsman style couch, not noticing their entwined hands and rosy cheeks. The truth was that his mood was far too sour to notice the shift in dynamic between Brock and Olive. 

“Where’s Quinn?” Brock asked, still holding Olive’s hand from behind the counter. She looked up at him slightly, squeezing his fingers reassuringly before looking back toward Elias who had a scowl on his face.

“He and his girlfriend went out, not sure where.” Elias shrugged, taking a sip of his tea and quickly adding,

“I’m so glad you two aren’t together or this would be the worst trip now.” 

Olive frowned at his words, her head starting to spin and guilt over kissing Brock pooling in her stomach. But what hurt the most, was how quickly Brock had dropped her hand, her heart cracking just enough to make her throat close up at the loss of the sensation of Brock’s fingers threaded through hers. She did her best to let the moment pass, plastering on a fake smile as she excused herself from the kitchen, ruffling Elias’s hair softly as she walked by to get to her room, words dripping sarcastically from her lips,

“Right, well, you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Brock tried to pretend that the words coming from his friend didn’t hurt and that he didn’t feel like he had everything ripped right out from underneath him as Petey made the offhand comment. He sighed as he retreated back to his own room to gather his thoughts. He felt completely stuck at an intersection, where if he turned right he would be met with Olive, the girl who had been occupying his thoughts since September, who he had finally kissed just hours earlier after months of daring himself to make it happen. If he were to turn left, he would be met with losing Olive in the way that he wanted her most but he would keep his heart guarded because according to Petey, Olive was only capable of crushing his heart not cradling it. It was beginning to feel like it wasn’t Olive that could hurt him, it was actually Petey. 

Brock took an hour to himself and tried to consolidate his thoughts well enough to be able to talk to Olive. He knew that they couldn’t pretend that the kisses and admissions of affection from that afternoon hadn’t have happened, and he knew now thanks to Petey’s comment that they needed to have a definitive conversation about what it all meant. Brock walked over to Olive’s door, bringing his hand up and tentatively knocking on the soft wood. When she answered, he could tell that she had cried and that made his chest tighten even more than it already had as she stepped aside, motioning for him to come into the room. 

Olive crawled back into her bed, bringing the dark green comforter back up to her chest as she watched Brock sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind grappling with what he wanted to say to her. He hated that he could see in her expression how hurt she already was, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one helping slow her tears rather than the one who caused them. But he kept grappling over the scenario in his mind, trying to convince himself that chalking the kiss up to a mistake was what produced the best outcome for everyone involved. 

“I’m sorry,” were the only words he knew how to say to the girl who was near tears again in front of him, because those were the only words he could come up with that would be true. Olive nodded, turning her head to look away from him, catching her gaze on the navy blue notebook that she always carried with her. 

“Miscalculation: an error or misjudgement,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears as she tried to avoid Brock’s expression. 

“Yeah.” Brock smiled sadly, hating that this was the outcome of what had been such a happy moment between them before, her lack of words confirming what he walked into that room already knowing. The weight of the words from earlier in the afternoon stepping heavily on both of their hearts. Maybe it was true what they said about timing, how sometimes no matter how right a person is, the situation or timing isn’t right. She couldn’t help but think about how different things would have been if she had met Brock first and not Elias, because she was so sure that her soul belonged with his. But if there was one thing about Olive it was that she would always let herself down before her friends, and if this was that important to Elias for them to not see each other, she would come to live with that no matter how much it crushed her in the process. 

The discussion turned down a path that Olive absolutely hated, but had to walk on for the sake of everyone else’s happiness around her. Olive hated disappointing anyone, and the idea that what her and Brock did behind Elias’s back was eating away at her, even if it felt right in the moment. She wanted more than anything to have given Brock her heart and faced Elias hoping that he cared enough about both of them as a friend to be happy that they were happy. But Brock unknowingly tossed the box with her heart in it out as soon as he dropped her hand earlier that afternoon, a clear sign that whatever this was that was developing between them wasn’t worth the risk, and Olive found herself reminded of why she usually left before letting her heart get wrapped up in someone else in the first place. 

She found herself laying there in bed and letting the tears fall silently down her cheeks as Brock sat there silent. It wasn’t fair in the moment, but she was so hurt by how quickly Brock had given up that she wanted nothing to do with him for at least a few hours. She just wanted to lay in her bed and cry, and then maybe pull out her notebook and scribble out all of the words that she had written about her falling in love with him.  

--------------

It was stupid really, how easily she let herself fall back into things with Brock after the trip in January. How quickly her lists became littered again with words that reminded her of him, each scribbled down in dark ink on various post-its littering the confines of the object that provided her the most sense of security. She wasn’t sure why she agreed to come up to the roof with him that night, why she felt like it would do anything but pull her heart apart more being up there in such a romantic setting when she knew that things between them could never fully transpire. But it was Brock, and all he had to do was smile at her a certain way and she would be there. She would hate herself for it, but Brock had always been just as close to her as she was to him, so even if it hurt that they couldn’t be together, she would allow herself to settle for being in his life in this capacity, because that was better than being tossed out of it completely. 

When Brock had called and insisted she came over, she at first thought something was wrong. It was nearing 10pm when he called, a time that if any other boy were to call her up at, most likely meant something else. But she knew Brock, and he whatever this was couldn’t have been a late night hook up call, because as far as she could tell, she was worth more to him than a short “you up?” text. So despite her still feeling wary of her relationship with him, she got in her car and drove the familiar route to his place, trying to conceal the mess that was her beating heart. 

Olive followed Brock up the familiar concrete steps, staying two paces behind him as they went toward the door to the roof access point. It wasn’t the first time they had been alone together since the disastrous cabin trip, where she had finally let herself be with Brock in the way that she had been wanting and writing about, only to have it torn apart before the ink could dry enough to not be smudged on the pages. She hated that she still felt this way about him. What hurt the most was that she had all of these words ready for him, but she never got to give him the most important one, the one that told him that she loved him. 

Love was a funny thing for Olive Burke, it was something that she read about for years, but never something that she longed for until she met Brock. Her past had been full of almosts, people that checked one too few boxes on the endless lists that she created as her standards. But Brock came into her life and simultaneously her heart, not just checking each box but completely blacking it out, only to end in them having to burn the list for the sake of those around them anyways. 

When she got to the roof, she nearly cried at what she saw. Brock had set out blankets and pillows and a bottle of wine, a classic scene for a date that she wished she could actually be on. He had thought of everything, even handing her an old sweatshirt of his to throw on over her thin flannel, his name embossed in white on the back. When she put the sweatshirt on she looked at Brock, a sad smile on both of their faces at the remembrance that this was something that could have been, but wasn’t. 

“There’s a comet tonight, in half an hour. That’s why I called,” Brock said. She hated how uncomfortable he sounded, how unsure he sounded after everything they had been through. That might have been the most painful thing about what had happened that snowy day in January, that she not only lost who she thought would be someone to love, but someone who had become one of her best friends. Part of her wished she had never come here to see him, the sense of it being a mistake that could only hurt her filling her thoughts, and the other part of her was ready to give up on the stupid reasons for them not being together. She took another moment to take in her surroundings as the realization hit her harder than the cool wind blowing on the rooftop. She loved Brock, she had fallen completely head first into love with him and yet he was painfully out of reach. 

She pushed some of the hair that was blowing into her face behind her ears as she looked at him, the first time she had truly been alone with him since the trip to the cabin. They never talked about what happened, instead she had picked up every time he called as she tumbled back into a seemingly good place with him, her words shifting out of heartache and back into those of a girl in love. She hadn’t seen him alone over that time from the cabin trip until now, each time it had been in a group setting and there was always someone acting as a buffer between them. 

“Things have just been weird between us, and I saw this and thought of you and, fuck Ollie, I really missed you.” Brock frowned, his words flawed because he knew that what he was saying didn’t make up for everything that had happened. Him missing Olive didn’t make up for the fact that he was still too much of a coward to just tell his friend that he didn’t care about his dumb rule. Olive bit her lip and looked up at the sky for a moment, before settling her eyes back on the boy in front of her. It hurt being with him, but it had hurt worse not being with him as a friend. She missed when he would bring her here after home games, the two of them always winding down with a few episodes of the show they were currently watching, or her telling him about the latest book she had read, him always listening and taking in the words she wildly spoke because he loved how passionate she was about each one. She missed Brock more than she let herself admit to.

“I missed you too, Brock. She said, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater. Olive reached for the bottle of wine that he had brought up to the roof, reading the label quickly as if that would buy her some time in this moment with Brock. She hated that she felt that same longing for him that she had tried to suppress after the cabin trip. She couldn’t handle the push pull of having him right in her hands and then being ripped away again. Her heart was still cracked from that night in January, and she was so sure that if she let Brock in fully again that it would end up shattered beyond repair on the ground, covered in the dust of her feelings for him. 

The two of them sat on the roof for a while sipping on the wine and looking out at the city and up at the sky. As the line of liquid in the bottle started to drift down, the conversation picked up and started flowing between them in a comfortable way. After the drinking had calmed some of the nerves from being alone with him again, she found herself slipping into the same habits with him as if that kiss hadn’t essentially ruined everything between them. It was nice to be back with him, and she let herself open up to him again, this time the mantra of “we’re just friends” steadily running through her mind. The bottle eventually ran out, and the words that were now flowing freely between them just kept getting deeper. 

“Why did they name you Olive?” Brock asked as the two of them continued in conversation, the night growing later and the breeze picking up around them. He knew they were slipping into dangerous waters, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He wanted to know everything about Olive that she was willing to give him, and as he sat here and listened to her talk about her family in ways she had never talked about them with him before, he found himself writing his own list of words to someday give to Olive, with love sitting comfortably in permanent marker on the first line. 

“I think that they thought if they named me Olive, it would somehow fix the problems in their marriage that they were too blind to fixing before having me. In a way, I was their olive branch, even if it didn’t last.” Brock listened carefully as Olive spoke, revealing something she rarely talked about with people. Olive had never known what love was supposed to look like from a real-life perspective, her parents separating when she was only two years old. All she knew was custody battles, and bitterness, and overnight bags as she was funneled back and forth between two incomplete homes, a future that she never wanted for the family she hoped to one day have. 

“Are you afraid of love?” The words slipped from Brock’s lips before he could stop them, a question that caused Olive to stop breathing for a few seconds, the loose threads of the flannel blanket suddenly offering her a welcomed and needed distraction while she raced through her mind about how to answer that question. The problem wasn’t that she was afraid of love, at least not at a surface level of the word, the problem was that her whole life revolved around it, yet she never truly understood what the feelings behind love meant. She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the cool air that was blowing through her hair that was down for once, something she subconsciously did before coming up here with Brock in hopes that maybe he would find her pretty enough for his affections.

Olive let her eyes flutter open and she turned her head away from him, breaking eye contact and looking out at the city illuminated softly in the background, curling her hands deeper into the old flannel blanket he brought up with them. Brock watched as she sighed softly, hoping that he didn’t overstep with his irresponsible question. 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Olive said, voice barely above a whisper. She thought back to the kiss they had shared that day in January, knowing that in that moment love was something that for once wasn’t foreign to her. It was something that she saw and felt as she looked into Brock’s eyes right as he asked if he could kiss her. She loved Brock, and she had known that for a while now, its presence in her heart was heavy but steady. But this wasn’t that afternoon in January, this was a late night in February, and things were different. She didn’t get Brock in the end, even if the love she knew she was feeling for him had lingered past that afternoon in January.  

“Are you afraid right now?” He asked, the question penetrating the surface level of what was normal for a conversation between two people who had been dancing along the ledge of something more than either of them should have been doing. The late night phone calls, the subtle touches when they were together, the lingering, and the flashbacks of a kiss that they both seemed to avoid facing the reality of all added up to the affirmation that feelings were bubbling up to the surface, pushing them together in the very way they both promised their friend that they wouldn’t do. But, Brock wasn’t afraid and he knew how he felt about the girl sitting beside him from as soon as he saw her stumble into the bar with his best friend, crimson red on her lips, commenting on his shitty tasting beer. Olive’s personality was loud, she was so unapologetically herself. Her hair was always a mess, her scratchy handwriting present on sticky notes that he found everywhere in her wake. She was the definition of coffee that she had let get too cold for it to have possibly been any good, but he would still drink that coffee everyday if it meant Olive was there with him, reading beside him with her dark rimmed glasses perched at the end of her nose, hair thrown up messily on her head and he would do anything to feel her lips on his once more. 

“No, Brock. I’m not afraid when I’m with you.” She whispered, looking up at him, her eyes full of sincerity at the moment. It might have seemed too soon for anyone else, but something about Brock made her feel like she could breathe in a way that she never had before. The release of sharing her inner fears with someone who she found herself falling for with each passing day, the moment feeling heavy yet comfortable for her.   

Olive felt herself leaning in, the cool winds hitting her skin as she tried to focus on Brock. Her thigh pressed slightly against his, warmth spreading underneath the blanket that her hands held onto as Brock shifted slightly, lifting his hand to the side of her face. 

Time felt like it was slowing down, the stereotypical kiss that is shown in every rendition of the same romantic comedy, feelings bubbling to the surface as her eyelids fluttered shut and his lips inched closer. All she had to do was close the distance, and let herself fall safely into Brock’s waiting hands. But as she neared the line, Elias’s words echoed in her mind. His comment from that day at the cabin so many months ago, and she knew that no matter how badly her heart wanted Brock, she couldn’t betray her closest friend for the sake of her own heart’s desires.  

“Brock, wait.” She pulled back, pressing her hand softly to his chest. Brock opened his eyes slowly, and he almost wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. He felt his heart sink as her eyes cast downward, a familiar feeling of rejection pooling in his stomach. If he was being honest with himself, he knew what the next words out of her would be, but he wanted to live in the moment just a bit longer. He wanted to kiss Olive again, this time fully ready to confront his feelings even if it meant having to make their friend understand.  

“We shouldn’t.” Olive leaned back, creating a distance between them that felt colder than the air surrounding them. Brock didn’t know what to think other than that he wished for the circumstances to be something different than they were. He knew why they shouldn’t, and even if it was the right decision to stop before anything happened, it made him long for better timing, a parallel universe where perhaps he had met Olive first, not Petey, because if he had then maybe he could experience getting to know her without the cloud of influence that Petey had over their relationship that Brock felt like shouldn’t even matter anymore. 

“Right.” He smiled sadly, grasping onto hope that maybe Olive would be willing to try, despite the common denominator in the complicated equation being the one person that they both relied on. He knew it wouldn’t be right to go behind Petey’s back, especially when the warnings were constantly echoing in his ear, Petey’s predictions that Brock would only end up hurt in the end. As much as he liked Olive, he knew his closest friend was trying to help him guard his heart from being the piece of him that he had given away too easily many times in the past. 

Olive shivered slightly as Brock moved farther away from her, the moment of misjudgment passing quickly as they entered into the next serious topic of this moment that was starting to feel never-ending. She fought with her mind to come up with the right words to say to console her own heart and make Brock feel better, their connection so obvious to the both of them even if they couldn’t act on it. 

“He’s my best friend, Brock, and yours. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I came between you.” She gestured between them, guilt from accepting his offer to be on the roof swallowing her whole. She didn’t understand how something that felt so right in the moment, could also feel so wrong. She just kept envisioning Elias, disappointed, and hurt in her mind if he were to find out what they were doing behind his back. His two closest friends essentially betraying his trust.

Brock sat there mulling over her words, his heart in a physical fight with his head about what was worth risking at this point. He loved Petey, but he also knew that Olive was who he wanted. He couldn’t picture himself with anyone else, and she was here with him, on the roof with her legs pressed against his and her heart breaking right in front of him and he just wanted to put it back together for her. 

“Hey, I didn’t give you the word of the day.” Brock turned his head to look at her as she spoke, her tone light, as if she didn’t just take a seam ripper to his heart, carefully plucking the loose threads of her away from his chest. He nodded at her before returning his gaze to the city, the lights from the shiny glass skyscrapers illuminating across the water. 

“Ubiquitous: existing or being everywhere at the same time, constantly encountered,” Olive recounted, voice softening as she continued reciting the definition, a frown slightly developing on her lips. Olive looked at the boy beside her, the same one who had somehow become the person who was with her everywhere. Olive had spent so many years studying love, reading every classic she could get her hands on, analyzing the words written from someone’s deepest crevices of their hearts, and she could probably recite the likes of Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre by heart if she had to. But despite reading about the projection of love portrayed in literature for years, the actuality of it felt foreign and non transcribable even as it was sitting next to her looking out at the city. 

“Fuck, Ollie. I can’t pretend. I can’t just pretend I don’t know what it’s like to kiss you and what it feels like when I’m around you,” Brock sighed, taking Olive’s hands in his own as he looked into her eyes, seeing the panic reflected in them. 

“Brock, we can’t,” she tried. Her heart was racing and her head was screaming at her to stop, to not hear Brock out. But her heart was craving the comfort of being nestled with his and she felt like she was grasping onto his hands to prevent herself from falling off of the roof.

“Are you happy, Olive? With this between us? Or do you think about it? Me and you,” he asked. 

Olive bit her lip as she tried to stall, but she knew that she had her answer. 

“I want to be with you, but,” 

“Then fuck, why aren’t we together? Why does what Petey have to say matter? Why does anyone else matter? Fuck, Olive I like you so much. It’s worth the risk,” Brock pleaded. 

Olive pulled her hands from his and moved so that she was in his lap, her legs straddling either side of his. She was scared of everything that would happen as a result of the decision she was about to make, but she knew Brock would be there, holding her hand through it. Brock reacted quickly, sliding his hands up her thighs so that they were resting on her hips. 

“Let’s try,” she whispered with her forehead against his, her voice quiet but sure. Brock moved one hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to him and pressing his lips to hers. Her stomach was exploding with butterflies as her lips moved against his, the two of them closer together than they’d ever been. When they kissed in January it was fun, it was exciting and different until Elias had all but rained on their own little parade. But this kiss was something else, and Olive found herself falling even farther into Brock with each second that passed by, the consequences of their actions not mattering to her at all in that moment.  

--------------

When Olive had suggested an anti-valentines day party, she didn’t think that any of the boys would take her seriously. Most people wanted to be coupled up on Valentine’s Day, spending it with their partner and showering them with attention and gifts. Olive hated Valentine’s Day, she thought it was just a mother excuse to romanticize consumerism and make people who didn’t have a valentine feel shitty about it. So when Jake’s now ex-girlfriend broke up with him two weeks prior, and Petey mentioned him having a hard time with it, she suggested having an anti-Valentine’s Day party where everyone could just get wasted and be single. Jake was thrilled about the idea and offered up his house in Kelowna for the occasion. 

Olive and Brock had been sneaking around for months, but only weeks officially together and as they gathered with all of their friends, they were finding it hard to keep things hidden. Olive stood in the kitchen, Brock mixing them drinks in front of her. When he was finished, he came in close to her ear as he handed her the drink, his lips grazing her jaw softly and quickly as he spoke. 

“You look so fucking pretty, Olive.” She blushed as she took a sip of the concoction he had given her, laughing softly as he pushed him slightly away from her and looked around, hoping that no one caught the seemingly harmless moment between them. But Jake had seen it from across the room where he was sitting with Quinn and Elias, smirking softly at his two friends who clearly had something more going on than they were sharing.

“What’s going on with Brock and Olive?” Jake smirked, nodding toward the pair who were lost in their own little world, Brock and Olive slipping out onto the deck together, both of them blushing and giggling from likely more than the alcohol.  

“Nothing, they’re just friends. Sorry if you’re mad about it,” Petey shrugged, clearly annoyed by Jake and Quinn’s incessant meddling into Brock and Olive. Sure Elias could admit they were flirty, but Olive was just like that, it didn’t mean anything. He decided at that moment to get a new drink, needing some space from his idiotic teammates who clearly were reading into something that he felt wholeheartedly wasn’t there. 

Jake and Quinn shared a look before drifting their eyes out to the deck, where they could see Olive’s arms wrapped around Brock’s waist as they talked with each other. There were smiles on both of their faces that were recognizable as the type of grinning when you’re infatuated with someone and can’t see anyone else. Quinn laughed to himself a bit as he and Jake watched for a moment. 

“That kid is in denial, those two are either in love with each other or they’re just really bad at this whole anti-valentines day thing,” Quinn said, shaking his head slightly thinking about how quickly Elias shut the idea of anything down between them.

“To Brock and Olive, may Petey pull his head out of his ass soon,” Jake joked as he raised his beer toward Quinn’s, the two of them roasting before moving on from the conversation, Olive and Brock still oblivious to the happenings inside and they stood in their own little world where the population was just them. 

An hour later, Olive stood outside on Jake’s deck by herself, drink placed in her right hand, and a sad smile on her lips. She was looking out at the water, the calm, still dark blue water slightly illuminated by the moon and stars that shined much brighter than they ever did in Vancouver. Her mind was reeling with regret. Regret for suggesting this party, regret for going along with the whole theme, and most of all regret forever coming to that stupid dive bar night with Petey in the first place. She swirled the half-empty red cup of beer in her hand as she sighed. She was tired of the entire thing, the party, the dumb anti-valentines day jokes she had been cracking all night in an effort to bring at least a laugh to Jake after his horrible breakup, and most of all she was tired of pretending that she wasn’t hopelessly in love with the damn blonde boy standing just inside with his dumb smile, his dumb laugh, and his dumb pink shirt with a broken heart on the chest that coincidentally was pulled right from her own sleeve. 

The night had started off so well, the bitter liquid in her cup giving her more courage to be openly affectionate with Brock as the night progressed. She thought back to an hour before, where they were standing here in almost the same spot, his hand firmly against her waist as she swore he was going to kiss her again, taking the risk and finally just being with each other, no matter what their friends thought. But he didn’t kiss her, and instead, she was met with not only a heartache that felt familiar to that night in January when Brock had let her go so easily but another type of heartache as she realized that it was Elias, one of her closest friends, who was encouraging Brock to move on with someone else. 

Olive heard the slider door open behind her, Brock’s footsteps almost too recognizable for her even though she didn’t turn around, another thing she was growing tired of. The truth was that ever since she knew what kissing him felt like, her mind couldn’t think of anything else. She had already locked away the hurt that she felt that day he dropped her hand at Elias’s comment. And maybe it wasn’t entirely fair to blame the whole problem on Elias, but it sure felt like her heart was stuck in limbo with Brock’s, waiting for the approval of someone that shouldn’t have ever made them have to choose in the first place. 

“Ollie-“ Brock started, his voice was soft and slow as the familiar nickname rolled off his lips. Olive had never been one for liking nicknames, she actually loved her name, but each time it came from Brock she found her stomach flipping and heart beating in her throat over the abridged version of Olive.

“I’m fine, Brock.” She said, still facing the water unable to turn to see him. She didn’t want to look at him, not because of any of his own actions but because it was all too much. Having him behind her, having just a taste of him and then dropping the entire plate on the floor where it sat longer than any five-second rule would allow, and the fact that he was right there on this stupid holiday that she was pretending not to care about was simply overwhelming her and making her heart bend past its breaking point.

“No you’re not, and neither am I.” He said as his voice was cracking with each word.

Olive turned around slowly and took another sip of the now slightly warm beer in her cup as she waited for Brock to say whatever he had come out there to say. She didn’t want to hear it because of how badly she was currently hurting, the jealousy that she had no real reason to even be feeling was creeping in quickly and the longer he stood there looking at her, the more she wanted to snap. 

“Will you please just talk to me, Ollie?” Brock tried once more as he took a step closer to the girl he was so crazy about. The girl that would stay up until 2 am sometimes reading, the girl who’s hair was always a mess and couldn’t see very far without her glasses, the girl who was by all means too smart for him, each day sending him words that he didn’t understand. Words that she knew that made her think of him, words that he found himself missing each day that passed without one, the last one being from that day in January. 

“I heard you, talking about that girl Elias wanted to set you up with. And it sucks, okay? It sucks that I feel this way, it sucks that I have to sit here and be with you in secret while our best friend brings some girl for you, God, Brock, how am I supposed to feel about it?” Brock’s heart absolutely crashed in his chest hearing Olive breakdown like that, her voice growing quieter and quieter as she continued, a trait that was so unlike Olive that it brought him down even further knowing he was the one involuntarily causing pain. Brock reached out to her, pulling her closer to his chest and for once he didn’t care who could have been watching them through the glass door. 

“Olive it’s you. It’s been you. I told him I wasn’t interested, and I almost told him about us, but then I just froze and all I could hear was him saying that at the cabin, and I didn’t know what to do. I want to be with you, but,” Brock couldn’t continue, because if he did he would have to admit out loud that he had made a choice. A choice that left the girl in front of him, the one he cared about more than he thought he could ever care about someone, hurt. A choice that would all but tell her that his priorities were with his friend, no matter how badly it hurt. 

“Why can’t we just tell him?” Olive sniffled into Brock’s chest, the haziness of the alcohol finally hitting her as she shivered slightly from the wind. Brock rubbed her back sadly and rested his chin on the top of her head. He hated that he knew Petey so well. He knew how stubborn he was, he knew how much he cared, but no matter how many times Brock almost broke down, he just couldn’t shake Petey’s words about how dating your friends is a disaster, and how it would ruin the entire dynamic of the friendship, from his head. 

Olive pulled back from Brock when he didn’t answer, the warmth she once felt from his comfort now turning cold as she connected what he couldn’t bring himself to say back to her question. She chugged what was left of her beer, raising it in a toast more to herself than him as the alcohol she wanted to rid her of her sadness hit her even harder. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Brock.” She said, turning from him and about to step inside, leaving him out in the cold and alone. She froze with her hand on the door handle, turning around to face him one last time before leaving the party that night. 

“Shattered: broken into many pieces,” She smiled sadly as she walked back inside, not bothering to see his reaction as she left, a scene that so closely resembled her entire outlook on life lately, words of affirmation scribbled on lists becoming nothing but seemingly every word in the English language to describe heartache as the replacement. At least now he would finally know how she felt. 

She wandered a bit closer to the water, taking a seat on the grass as she looked out at the darkness. She knew she would have to go back to the house eventually, with that being her place to crash for the night, and she also knew that Brock hadn’t done anything wrong. But she was tired, the new and exciting part of being together wearing off with the crash into the reality of what it actually all meant. 

Olive shifted slightly as she felt someone sit down next to her, surprise evident on her face as Jake sat down and handed her a bottle of water. He looked at her knowingly, a sad smile on his face that she could tell wasn’t from his own recently broken heart. 

“Olive, what’s really going on with you and Brock?” Jake tried, his voice soft and tentative as she sighed in response. Olive felt herself tearing up, unsure if the alcohol was what was causing her to react this way or just the feelings that had been building up so long under an umbrella of lies.

“He’s my boyfriend, and Elias doesn’t know,” She said, tears brimming her eyes at how shitty she felt admitting that outloud to someone. Olive didn’t know how she let it get this far. She loved Brock, and while she wasn't ready to admit that entirely to him, she had enjoyed being with him. But you can only lie for so long before it all rips apart, and the guilt of lying to her best friend was starting to eat her alive. 

“Do you love him?” Jake asked, his question blunt and to the point. Olive nodded softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. Jake wrapped an arm around his friend, letting her cry on his shoulder. 

“Petey adores you, I know he’s a stubborn little shit but, we all know you and Brock are happy. It’s so obvious, he’s in denial, sure, but I think he’ll come around,” Jake reassured her softly. Olive continued to cry for a few moments, wiping her eyes softly when Brock came around the corner, taking in the scene. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jake asked. Olive nodded and patted his knee in response, wiping her eyes once more as Jake got up and Brock took his place. She waited to say anything until Jake was almost back up to the porch, out of earshot from them.

“I’m really sorry, Olive. I should have done more to stop him. I hate seeing you upset, especially if I had any part in making it that way.” Brock frowned, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together softly. Olive sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking out once more at the water before answering him. 

“It’s not your fault, Brock. We got ourselves into this mess by not telling him.” She sighed. 

“So are we okay?” Brock asked, his voice quiet and tentative. Olive leaned up and kissed him softly, nodding wordlessly before leaning her head back onto his shoulder. They needed to tell Elias, but she also needed a little while longer to process everything and decide just how to do it without upsetting her best friend. 

--------------

Brock had always been dismissive about love, never questioning that he was young and lived a life that most other people wouldn’t want or be able to understand and grow accustomed to. He didn’t spend his time daydreaming about the future, and marriage, and kids, he had everything he needed and knew that his time would come when it was meant to. But as he sat there in late April with his black tie around his neck and his white shirt slightly wrinkled from being unable to work an iron, he watched as one of his closest friends stood at the altar. The white flowers surrounding the archway in the gazebo and the simple symphony of the wedding march was playing, but his only thoughts were of the girl who was most likely sitting in her apartment, glassed perched on the top of her nose, probably reading something far too complicated for him to understand and he wondered why he hadn’t just taken the leap of faith to invite her here to sit beside him. 

“I think Bo is going to cry,” the voice beside him spoke softly, a fond yet teasing tone to it, and Brock suddenly was lifted out of his own thoughts and painfully reminded why he couldn’t be here with Olive. Because of his best friend sitting next to him, who had practically begged Brock not to develop any feelings for the girl that he was so helplessly already falling for, a secret that had been destroying him to keep. 

He laughed softly at his friend, not bothering to give a verbal response because he was almost terrified of any words that were to come out of his mouth when his mind was so concentrated on what Olive would look like walking down the aisle to him, a thought that had his hands shaking and his heart shattering because he knew it would never happen. He knew if he wasn’t careful, he’d let it slip to Petey just how in love he was falling with Olive, Petey’s way too smart and way too beautiful for himself best friend. 

Brock checked his watch repeatedly as he watched Bo and Holly make the rounds to thank everyone for being there, knowing that as soon as they got to him he could get out of there as quickly as possible. He was feeling trapped, his airways blocked and his feelings growing steadily and he needed to leave the environment where people were celebrating the very thing he had come to the realization that he wanted. His phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him a bit. He reached his hand down, pulling out the device and seeing the name of the girl he had been dancing around all night. 

Ollie :) 

Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for. 

He didn’t have time to overanalyze what that meant, Olive’s word of the day that she had sent him this time doing nothing to calm him down, because he saw the three little dots moving, an indication that she wasn’t done unknowingly strengthening the unbreakable grasp she had on his heart. 

This one reminds me of you and me :)

He stood there, looking at the grey text on his phone and slowly lifted the champagne to his lips, knowing that he needed at least three more of these to get through the rest of the night after reading Olive’s words. It was painful in a way that he didn’t understand, how someone could be just within an arm’s reach, who he knew felt the same way about him, and yet they couldn’t act on it. He didn’t get to hold her hand, or kiss her whenever he wanted, and that not so gentle reminder had him reaching for flute after flute of the golden liquid, hoping to forget.  

Brock paced back and forth as he wandered into his bedroom, both of his dogs’ feet padding across the carpet behind him. He took off his suit jacket and undid his tie, tossing them too carelessly onto his closet floor considering how nice they were. His mind was racing ever since he left Bo and Holly’s wedding, his heart doing flips in his chest as he tried to push Olive from his mind, not so gently reminding himself just why he couldn’t have her. 

The last two years of Brock’s life he had been so focussed on his future, his career, pushing any thoughts of a meaningful relationship so far back that he tricked himself into thinking he didn’t want anything. When he met Olive, all of his apprehensions about the idea of love were tossed carelessly out the window as his heart started driving down the highway toward her. But the problem was, every time he got to the border between himself and Olive, it was like his passport was no longer valid and entry into what would have been something beautiful was denied. 

The worst part about it was that he was now wondering if the border would always be closed. No matter how mutual the feelings between him and Olive were, Petey was always there in the back of their minds, and it was hard for him not to wonder just how long things could realistically last between them as long as it was in secret. 

He dropped himself into his bed, patting softly at the dark comforter to signal the dogs to come up. He ran a hand softly through his hair, champaign still causing a light fog to clutter his mind, nothing else clear to him aside from how he felt about Olive. He thought back to earlier in the evening, watching Bo and Holly get married and his mind drifted to her, something that should have scared him but didn’t. 

If Brock were to be honest with himself, he knew that he and Olive could have something great, something that had the potential to end in life together. But this wasn’t a movie, it wasn’t a whirlwind of love that he could let himself get into, even though unbeknownst to him, he and Olive were both slowly drifting there anyways. Before any sober thought could stop him, he reached toward his bedside table and grabbed his phone, pulling up Olive without giving himself time to second guess if it was a good idea or not.   

“One too many drinks there, huh, Brockadoodle?” Olive smiled into her phone, turning it on speaker and setting it gently on her bedside table as she crawled into bed. She knew things were going too far, she was getting too close to Brock, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know how to stop it. The feelings had already crossed the moat surrounding her heart, and they were standing there with axes picking apart the walls that acted as the last barrier between letting Brock have her completely, where everyone could see it. 

Brock felt himself calm down at the sound of Olive’s voice, soft through the phone. He let the next few words tumble out without fear of their repercussions. He had been thinking about her all night, so much so that if he didn’t get it off of his chest, the cavities of his heart might completely collapse. 

“I wanted to bring you tonight.” Brock started, words softer than his tone from before, a hint of emotion underneath them that Olive knew too well. “Brock..” she tried, unsure of how to console him when she had been thinking about being on his arm all night. Olive couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t hurt; she wasn’t there with him, feelings that she had no right feeling about someone who couldn't have taken her as his date anyways. She was starting to grow concerned for her well-being, wondering how far she and Brock could tiptoe around these feelings that seemed to get more and more complicated as the months passed. It should have been simple, they should have been able to be together, but sometimes what a person wants doesn’t line up with reality. 

“No, let me finish, please.” He sighed. Olive couldn’t see what he was doing, she could only hear the desperation in his voice. Brock laid in his bed, his dogs lovingly at his feet, and he should have been content. But the side of the bed next to him was nagging him, an emptiness that never bothered him before Olive. He ran a hand over his face, eyes slightly blurring from the overload of far too expensive champagne that he drank at the wedding, hoping to replace the empty feeling of her hand not in his with the glass instead. 

“I wanted you there, I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked in your dress, and hold your hand during the ceremony. I wanted to have you there next to me, and I don’t know if it’s the dramatics of being at a wedding getting to my head, or if any of this even makes sense, but I just was watching Bo and Holly have their first dance and all I could think about was you.” Brock knew he was too much, the feelings he had been trying to keep at bay from someone who he was supposed to just be friends with, no matter how wrong it felt bubbling up like the champagne that he drank just hours before. 

Olive felt herself stop at his words, her labored breath filling the space as she waited for him to continue. She grabbed her phone, pulling it off the speaker as if the ghosts in her bedroom were listening anyways. 

“I want to kiss you no matter who sees us so badly, Olive. I think about it all the time.” 

Olive took her time, attempting to process the words that had just stumbled from his mouth. She focused on the tenor of his voice, the voice that she loved to listen to talk about anything and everything and here it was, whispering words through an over priced cell phone that was pressed tightly to her ear as she held it in her hands. She couldn’t breathe, the weight of what he had just said stunning her so badly that all she could do was breathe softly, willing herself to answer him. She never had time to think about the consequences of what they were doing, instead focussing on the good things about being together even if it was in secret. As Brock drunkenly told her these things, her heart filled with guilt over it all, wondering how they could feasibly continue this for much longer, no matter how much that realization cut her. 

“Olive?” Brock whispered, wondering if he had gone too far. Olive hates the uncertainty in his voice but she hated even more that her silence was the cause of it.

“I’m here, Brock,” was all she could manage in that moment. She heard him softly sigh in the background then some shuffling on the other end. 

“Do you feel it too? Or am I alone here?” 

“I feel it too, Brock. You know I do.” 

--------------

“I don’t understand why you didn’t want to bring a date, you were the only one there without one” Petey shrugged toward Brock, referring to the Bo and Holly’s wedding that had occurred just days prior. 

Brock was practically fuming at his friend whom he loved dearly but could be so completely dense. He didn’t think Elias was stupid, but how could he really be asking Brock that question when he had to have known how badly Brock wanted to bring Olive the wedding. He was trying to calm himself down, to not let his feelings get the best of him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how simple this all could be if Petey could just get over his damn stubbornness about Olive and Brock dating.

“Well, I probably would have had a date if you hadn’t have insisted I stay socially distanced with Ollie at all fucking times,” he snapped at his friend. He didn’t look at Petey’s reaction as he walked into the kitchen to catch his breath, replacing his empty beer bottle with a fresh one from the fridge, opening it quickly and drinking a large portion of it. 

Elias sat there with a look of apprehension and annoyance on his face, still not understanding why his requests were making him out to be the bad guy. Brock and Olive were friends, the group dynamic was great, why did it have to be more when it was fine already? 

“You guys are just friends,” Petey waived him off and Brock swore he felt his eye twitching with how irritated he was growing. 

“We’re not just fucking friends, we were practically together until you came in with your ‘I’m so glad you’re not dating’ bullshit and we stopped,” he spat out. Brock was tired of the secrets, he was tired of keeping his feelings for Olive to himself, and he was tired of Petey dictating his love life when he should just be happy for him. 

Petey’s mouth hung open slightly in shock at Brock’s outburst. The words hung over him as he went through what Brock could be talking about, anger bubbling up in him at the idea of Brock and Olive, his two closest friends, hooking up behind his back.

“Did you sleep with Olive?” His eyes narrowed at Brock. 

“No, but we kissed. And, fuck Petey I really like her, and she really likes me. I don’t understand why you’re so weird about it and why you can’t just be happy for us. I’d be happy for you,” Brock groaned, leaning slightly on the counter as he finished his beer, shaking his head slightly. In a weird way it felt good to get some of it out, even if most of what he was saying was a lie. They didn’t just kiss, they had been together for months at this point and here he was lying to his best friend about it, hoping that maybe if he expressed his frustrations enough that Petey would come around and they could just be together in front of him. 

“Well why does it have to be Olive?” Petey asked. Brock couldn’t believe his friend, and he was one minute from asking him to leave because he was making him so frustrated at the situation. In Brock’s mind this was simple, but Petey had this way of making things so complicated simply because he didn’t want things to be awkward between everyone. 

“I don’t know, Petey. I can’t help how I feel. I wish you’d just come around because this sucks for both of us. I’m unhappy, she’s unhappy. I want to be with her man, she’s everything I could ever want. You know who I call after every game? Olive. You know who knows everything about my family? Olive. She’s even met them, she met my dad, Petey and he fucking loved her! He still asks about her. I don’t even care about other girls, I haven’t since I met her. I just want her.”

“So you’re in love with her then?” Petey inquired, deciding to ignore everything else that Brock had just said. Brock paused, new beer in his hand as he had almost a stare down with his friend. He took a moment to go through his options, knowing that as soon as Petey said that he knew it was true. He did love Olive, and he might not have realized it but as soon as the words left Petey’s mouth he knew. He knew that everything had been building with Olive, she had written her way into his heart and he was a willing participant, accepting her words and rewriting them with his own pen. Brock may not have been an avid reader, but Olive was the best book he’d ever read. 

“Yeah, Petey, I do.” He admitted, voice softening, and heart breaking slightly because he wasn’t sure if that would even make a difference at this point. 

“Oh.” Was all that Petey replied, his eyes cast down and guilt pooling in his stomach. 

Petey thought about what Brock had said for days, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he was the reason for their unhappiness. He also felt a bit dense for not seeing the signs that they had something developing between them. He spent the next few days avoiding Brock as much as he could. He showed up to practice after he knew Brock would be on the ice, and he stayed until he knew Brock had left, with Brock making no effort to talk to him either. It wasn’t just Brock he avoided though, as he carefully dodged all of Olive’s texts and phone calls, to the point where each time his phone rang he flinched, wondering if it would be one of them. 

Brock knew Elias was ignoring him, but he honestly didn’t care anymore. He didn’t tell Olive about the argument he had with Petey, instead he focussed on being a support system for her as she worked through studying for her finals. He was almost thankful for her being busy, it was giving him time to think and hopefully work through everything with Petey so that by the time she was done, they could finally be together and have Petey okay with it all. 

Brock picked up the small notebook, the leather slightly worn under his fingers and the binding not perfect from being handmade. He remembered when Olive gave this to him. He remembered everything about her that day, how she insisted he wait to open it until she left with a soft blush on her cheeks, how she looked at his nephew with a look in her eyes that made him practically want to marry her right there, and how his dad adored her even after meeting her for not even five minutes. He remembers opening the book and nearly crying at her words, every word that she had given him before. It was something that was so simple yet said so much at the time that he wasn’t able to read until now. He was in love with Olive, and he was ready to tell her that and stop hiding it. 

As Brock was flipping through the worn pages, some of them with tea stains, some with scribbled out words, a small folded up piece of paper fell to the ground. He knew that he missed it the first time he looked through this book, and he slowly reached down to grab it from the floor. He held the piece of scratch paper up, reading each word and definition carefully, part of him feeling guilty for reading something that seemed personal, even if it had his own name on it. He smiled at each word, fondly appreciating Olive’s anecdotal word of the day that she would give him without fail, everyday. His eyes were caught on the last word, sending him into a headspace that hadn’t felt this clear in a long time.

Enamored: in love. 

He read and re-read that word over and over again, his heart pounding thinking about her saying this to him. Suddenly all of the words over the last few months became clear to him, the realization of each one being her way at telling him that she loved him, without having to actually say it. It all made sense now, and Brock didn’t care about Petey’s words anymore, he didn’t care that Olive might hurt him, because he knew that it wasn’t true. Olive wasn’t incapable of giving her heart to someone, she had already given it to him in the way that she knew best, through words. He didn’t care what anyone else thought anymore, he was going to be with Olive fully, no matter what Petey had to say about it. 

Across town, Olive set her glass carefully on the coffee table as she heard someone knocking on her front door. Elias was sitting still on the couch, only lifting his head up slightly when he heard the knock. Olive just shrugged her shoulders and walked over to her front door, peeking through the peephole only to be met with confusion by what she saw. 

“Who is it?” Elias inquired, his hand still scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. 

Olive didn’t answer her friend, instead, she opened the door to reveal a floral delivery man who had a cart full of what she assumed was more flowers than any regular person needed. Olive stared at the man for a moment, thoughts racing through her mind as she tried to come up with an excuse about the flowers that she could already guess were from Brock. Her stomach bubbled with anxiety as she carefully signed her name on the packing slip, stepping aside to let the man carry not one, but twelve bouquets into her kitchen. 

Elias looked up in confusion, setting his phone down on the coffee table and wandering up to the counter toward a bouquet that had a card. Olive panicked, it was like time was moving at a glacial pace, and she was stuck in the pathway between the delivery man and Elias, knowing that her friend was going to get to the card that was likely from his best friend first. 

“Do you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?” Elias teased, grabbing the card in his hands and opening it. Part of him was hoping the answer would be yes, and that it would be someone other than Brock but the other part of him was starting to realize he could no longer live in a perpetual state of denial when it came to his two friends. It normally wouldn’t have been weird, and Olive wouldn’t have minded that her friend saw what was on that card if the circumstances were any different. She felt helpless as she saw Elias’s smirk turn into a frown as he read whatever was written, and all hopes of the flowers somehow not being from the boy she had grown so fond of dissipated with his frown. 

Olive watched Elias carefully as he set the card down, his lips slightly pursed while he looked at her. She felt her chest caving in, preparing herself for him to be furious with her. She and Brock had completely crossed the line of exactly what her best friend standing in front of her had asked her not to, and seeing the way he frowned at the card broke her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

Olive never wanted to hurt Elias, and her intentions that night so many months ago at the bar were to never get involved with Brock. But as she had come to realize, intentions don’t matter when the outcome hurts someone and seeing Elias’s somber expression had her mind reeling with regret. 

Elias just shook his head, walking slowly back to the couch where he sat back down, the silence in the room was noticeable, and Olive found herself realizing just how badly she had messed things up. Olive glanced at the flowers, sighing softly at the card that was resting on the counter, Brock’s handwriting visible from where she was standing. 

“You should read it,” she heard from behind her. Elias’s voice was soft and sincere, an emotion present that she wasn’t able to read. She looked from the card back to her friend, willing herself to read what Brock had written for her.

I’m enamored with you, Ollie.

B. 

Olive felt her eyes well up with tears at his words, running her fingers softly over the ink on the card before setting it back down on the counter. 

“Elias…” she tried, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

“How long have you and Brock been together?” He asked, his voice soft but steady, almost no emotion behind it, which somehow made everything feel worse. Elias was never cold toward her, in all the years they had known each other, nothing had ever come between them. But now, with everything that her heart was feeling toward his best friend, she felt like she was sitting in a room screaming, with the house on fire around her as she watched each relationship burst into flames around her. 

“Since February” was all she managed to say, her body frozen in place as she studied his face for any sort of reaction that she could read. There was no point in lying to him anymore, it was time to face the reality of the situation and confess to Elias what was going on. He cared about Brock and Olive, and she could only hope that by seeing how happy they were together that he would be happy for them. 

“So you both have just been lying to everyone this whole time.” There it was, the coldness in his voice that she was dreading, her eyes immediately looking away from his. She knew he was mad, and to be honest, he had every right to be because even if she and Brock weren’t together, they were very clearly and undeniably something more than friends, a confirmation that she could no longer hide from or deny. 

“It’s not like that, it's just, I don’t know Elias. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and then it did and you were just so against it. We were going to tell you, when we kissed in January and then you just made that comment and we decided to stop. But, I don’t know Elias.” Olive sighed, looking over at her friend with tears in her eyes, desperately trying to convey to him what she was feeling even though the words themselves weren’t coming out. She had never seen him look so disappointed toward her, something that she hated she was the cause of. 

“You love him,” Elias nodded and Olive froze. She knew she loved Brock, and seeing his note meant that he loved her back, something that she had spent years longing to find but convincing herself that she didn’t need. Brock had come into her life and completely checked off every cliche list of things as he swept her off of her feet, crashing her heart into his in a way that had for so long been this secret that they couldn’t admit to each other or anyone else. All she could do in that moment was look at Elias with a glint in her eye and an open heart and nod, confirming his observations that she did indeed, love his charming, goofy, wonderful best friend, Brock Boeser. 

Elias watched his best friend from across the room, mixed emotions in his heart, and various thoughts racing through his mind. He wanted Olive and Brock to be happy, he loved both of them, but he couldn’t shake the sense of hurt he felt knowing it had all been behind his back. He also knew that his own warnings had been what was keeping them from being together, and as he looked at Olive with her heart on her sleeve, he felt the guilt rising at being the one responsible for preventing her own happiness. 

“I’m sorry,” Elias shook his head, trying to find the words to say to his friend that would make up for this mess, the mess that he was ultimately the cause of for his own selfish reasoning. Elias paused for a moment, looking over at Olive before sighing softly.

“I’m glad he didn’t listen to me, though. I know I fucked it up, but I’m happy that you both are happy,” He said. Olive tilted her head slightly at him, a curious expression on her face at his words.

“What do you mean?” She replied. 

“I told him you’d crush him.” Elias said. It was so quiet that Olive almost didn’t think she heard him correctly. She didn’t think she concretely understood the words that just came from his lips, because the Elias she knew would never say those things about someone that he cared about and when it hit her that he didn’t want them to be together so badly that he would say something like that to Brock, she felt the anger rise in her stomach. 

“God, Elias. You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to say those things about me,” Olive said. She stood up from the couch and began to pace back and forth between her couch and the kitchen. Her mind was reeling, and all she wanted to do was kick Elias out and not speak to him ever again. Olive felt like a fool for not seeing that this was how her best friend truly thought of her, as someone who was only capable of causing heartache to others. 

“You think I’m not capable of love, that I’m just some bookworm living in her own head about the idea of love. Maybe that was true back then, but at least I tried. I let Brock into my heart in the only ways I knew how, falling in love with him yet stopping myself because of you. I spent all this time not wanting to come between you and it turns out you sold me out to him as someone he should never love, because people who have a harder time I guess aren’t capable of it at all, right?” 

“Olive, I didn’t-“ Olive cut him off harshly.

“It doesn’t matter, you still said it. You’re my best friend, Elias, but I’m clearly not yours.” The tears were steadily flowing down her cheeks and her head was starting to pound from everything that was happening. She hated that it was blowing up in this way. She hated that her heart was breaking from potentially losing one of the best friends she ever had, but she mostly hated that he ultimately was right in his assumptions, because she didn’t see how her and Brock could continue to be together now that the truth was out. 

Elias knew he fucked up. He knew his mistakes had cost two of the people he cared most about heartache, and while he didn’t know that Brock had said that to Olive until she threw it in his face, he knew that there was no way his friend didn’t mean it. Brock was absolutely in love with Olive, the kind of love that you think only exists written on pages for others to live through vicariously, and he knew for all the months he had been keeping them apart for his own selfish reasons, he needed to fix it.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Elias smiled, trying his best to show her that he was sorry and that he regretted what he had done. Elias was never good with words, he overthought everything that ran through his head and it more often than not ended with feelings unsaid. He didn’t want to hurt Brock or Olive, and he let his mind swindle him into thinking that if they were together it would somehow ruin the dynamic of their friend group. He knew it was selfish, and it was long overdue that Elias did something selfless instead. 

Olive looked over at her friend, shocked a bit by his change in demeanor. She bit her lip softly, unsure of how to react to his question because she did want to talk about Brock. She had been wanting to tell Elias for months just how happy his best friend made her feel, how she had never thought anyone would understand her in the ways that he had so easily. 

“Elias, that’s not going to fix it.” She whispered. 

“I want to hear about it, I want you to be happy Olive,” Elias said, softly nodding towards the space next to him on the couch. As Olive was about to start telling Elias everything, the familiar sound of her FaceTime ringtone started going off. She glanced toward her phone that was sitting in front of Elias on the coffee table, seeing Brock’s name and photo lighting up the screen. She shook her head slightly at Brock’s timing but then furrowed her brow at Elias’s soft reaction to seeing the name on the screen. 

Elias picked up the phone, handing it over to Olive as she stared at it ringing in her hands, letting the call lapse. She unlocked her phone and carefully texted the boy in question, letting him know she would call him back in a while before setting the device screen down onto the table. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She said, putting her head in her hands. 

“Well, how did it start?” Elias tried, a genuine soft smile on his face as he encouraged Olive to start speaking. Olive recounted everything to Elias, feeling the weight of secrecy lifting from her chest. It felt good to share these things with him, to tell him the little things over the past few months that she had wanted to share with him about Brock. 

“I do love him, Elias, and I’m sorry that things happened this way and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you but, I don’t want to hide it anymore. It’s not fair.” Olive cried, her voice shaking slightly from the emotions that she was feeling. That was her first time admitting those feelings about Brock out loud and she hated that these were the circumstances that brought them on. 

“You should go tell him, Ollie.” Petey smiled, getting up and grabbing his coat so that she could leave. Olive watched carefully as he wandered toward the door,

“You spent so long keeping this from me, trying to keep me comfortable when you shouldn’t have needed to. You’re my best friend and I’m sorry. But, you should go to him, tell him how you feel. He’s more important than us right now,” Elias said as he opened her front door and stepped out. 

It took Olive all but five minutes to throw on her shoes and grab her keys. Her hair was a mess, her head hurt from crying and she felt like a wreck, but none of it mattered. None of it phased her as she climbed into her car and thought about how she was going to tell Brock that she loved him for the first time, and that they didn’t have to hide things anymore. 

Brock opened the door and Olive stood there in front of him. Her eyes brimmed with tears that he could see through the rims of her glasses, strands of her hair were falling out of the messy ponytail that sat at the nape of her neck. He looked down to her hands, seeing the card sitting in her fingers, the chipped nail polish a sign that she had been upset. 

“Olive,” he started, and she cut him off, waving the card up to eye level as she spoke.

“Did you mean this?” She asked, her voice cracking and fresh tears falling down her cheeks. She bit her lip as she waited for a response, her own emotions overflowing with each second that ticked by. Olive was by all accounts no stranger to the idea of love, but rather she was constantly a bystander in the stories that depicted the tragedies and greatness of it all. But here she was, standing in front of the first boy she ever truly loved, hoping that for once she wouldn’t be a bystander. 

“Of course I did,” Brock said, reaching out to grab her hands softly as he led her inside and closed the door. The dogs ran to Olive’s side, another reminder of one of the many things he loved about her coming into view as she knelt down and greeted them, the first smile he had seen from her since she knocked at his door. 

“Then why didn’t you say it instead of sending it in a card?” She asked.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.” Olive scoffed at his sentence and Brock panicked, realizing he picked the wrong choice of words to convey how he felt. 

“Olive, I’ve been in love with you for months, since New Year’s Eve when you spilled a bottle of champagne all over your dress. I almost told you after Bo’s wedding when I called you in the middle of the night and told you I wanted to kiss you like a drunk idiot. You’re my favorite person, and nothing involving stupid petey and his stupid fucking rule changes that. I don’t care about petey I don’t care if he’s mad, I just want you, Olive, if you’ll have me” Brock was laying it out as clearly as his could, the words rushing from his mouth as he desperately reached out trying to hang onto the hope that what he and Olive had wasn’t lost because of his mistake. 

Olive walked to Brock slowly, tears still rolling down her cheeks at the overwhelming emotions she was walking through. Each step she took felt like another word scribbled down in her notebook, another checkbox filled about the boy that consumed almost all of her thoughts. He was everywhere around her, in her heart and mind, in her readings and coursework, and in that little blue notebook that used to be about her life but was now filled with words, each one a synonym for how much she loved Brock. 

Olive reached her hands up to Brock’s cheeks, his slightly grown out beard course against her hands in the best way as she pulled his head down to hers, crashing her lips to his for the first time since January. It was different this time, this kiss was harsher, deeper, and this time she knew that when she let him go he wouldn’t actually be going anywhere, they could be happy. 

Brock reacted instantly to the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing her back to the wall. When they pulled apart they both were breathless, Olive’s lips tinted a slightly darker shade as she put one hand on his chest, feeling the best of his heart. 

“I love you, Olive. That’s yours.” He looked down to his chest then back at her, wiping some of her tears away as he held her tightly. 

“I feel like we’ve wasted so much time,” Olive sniffled, wiping her eyes but smiling. Brock was hers, and it felt like she had been waiting a lifetime for him. To have him right there but just out of reach for months had more than taken its toll, but the weight that was slowly evaporating from her shoulders was freeing. She had Brock, she hadn’t lost her best friend, and she felt like she was no longer floating around waiting for the idea of love to catch her. It had, and it was standing in front of her, hands on her hips, his heart beating under her own hands. 

“But we’re here now.” Brock smiled, leaning down to kiss her once more. He couldn’t believe this was happening and that he could be with Olive wholly. He didn’t even know if Petey knew she was here but he didn’t care. He was tired of letting a stupid rule dictate their happiness, and Petey would just have to get over it if he was mad still because he had no intentions of letting Olive slip through his fingers again. 

“I have one last word for you, or phrase really,” Olive said as she tugged softly on Brock’s hair with one hand, the other still firmly pressed over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingertips. He nodded at her, smiling fondly while he waited for her to continue.

“Unapologetically in love, which I think needs no definition,” she grinned, watching as Brock smiled once more, this time against her lips as he kissed her again. His hands planted firmly on her hips, sliding his fingertips just underneath her sweater to feel her soft skin as the kiss deepened, something that was long overdue for the both of them. His hands slid up further, fingertips dancing along the skin just underneath her bra. 

“Brock,” Olive whined against his lips, shifting her body even closer to his.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his head dipping to her neck, pressing soft, but open kisses there, his breath hot on her throat.

“Bed,” she demanded, not having to tell Brock twice as he pulled his hands from her sweater, lacing his fingers through hers to lead her back into his bedroom. 

Everything slowed down as Olive started pulling off her sweater, with Brock kissing her firmly as his hands reached down to the top of her leggings, fingertips on fire at the touch of her skin. She tugged on the hem of his shirt, breaking apart to pull it over his head and then leaning back down onto the bed. Brock hovered above her as they kissed again.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Olive,” He whispered as he looked at her. They had been together before, but seeing her in his bed, in front of him, and being able to tell her that he loved her made everything feel different and  he was ready to savour every second of it. He peppered kisses all down her neck and chest as his hands wandered down her body, slowly sliding the leggings off as she picked up her hips. 

Sex with Brock had always been good, but something about the way it felt with his hands on her this time, and they way he knew every dip and inch of her body, knowing that he loved her made it that much better. Olive had never been one to put that much weight into sex, it was something that she enjoyed but never let herself get attached to the person she was with. This felt different, his was the person that she was completely in love with, and everything felt like it had fallen into place as she wrapped her legs around him while he moved. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him as she felt herself getting close underneath him. 

Brock slipped out of her as they both finished, slightly out of breath as he threw on sweats while he walked to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel and one of his shirts for Olive to wear as he helped her clean up. He kissed her forehead softly as he handed her the shirt, climbing back into bed as she put it on and retreated into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a lazy but beautiful smile on her face. 

Olive crawled into bed and rested her hand softly on Brock’s bare chest, her head falling so that it was leaning against his shoulder, the words from minutes before hanging over her head, replaying in her mind as she felt her cheeks heat up from the thoughts of him consuming her. She could hear the rain that was now coming down outside, and the room was getting dark from the sun beginning to set. 

Brock placed a kiss to her head, her hair unruly from his hand that had been in it only moments prior. He thought about how beautiful she looked in that moment, a soft smile on her lips that were slightly puffed up from kissing, cheeks still flushed. She looked up at him, her smile growing in the moment.

“Can I tell you I love you again?” She said, voice quiet and unsure, something that Brock noticed. Olive was loud and carefree, she didn’t question her feelings or emotions unless they meant something to her. Brock knew how she felt because he had felt that way about her for months now. It was out in the open, and he wanted nothing more than to tell the girl he loved just how much he loved her all the time and hear it back.

“You can tell me you love me anytime you want, Olive.” He said, eyes focussed on her as her cheeks heated up even more. He grabbed her hand that was on his chest and thread his fingers through hers as he adjusted his body to hover over hers, pressing his lips firmly to Olive’s once more that afternoon. 

“I love you, Brockadoodle,” Olive smirked, causing Brock to laugh softly as he hung his head into her neck, his hand squeezing hers gently.

“I love you too, Ollie.” 

--------------

Days turned into weeks as things shifted into a new normal. Brock and Olive were finally together, completely out in the open for everyone to see. Elias had apologized and fixed things with the both of them, missing his friends and feeling awful that he had unintentionally hurt them for so long. It was now summer and Olive had just gotten back from spending a time in Minnesota with Brock, meeting his family officially as his girlfriend. She felt at ease for the first time in almost a year, she had her friends, she had Brock and now she was starting summer classes to help knock how more of her graduate degree. 

Olive wandered around the second floor of the library with a cold coffee in her hands. She was growing slightly impatient as she looked around for an empty table, groaning internally about why there didn’t seem to be any open spots this time of the year. It was early July, and no one usually took summer classes. She felt her gaze settle on a pretty redhead as she came up with an alternate plan, knowing that she needed to be in the library to focus or she would end up on FaceTime stupidly smiling at her boyfriend much before their scheduled time to talk that night. 

She walked quickly over to the table, the pretty redheaded girl looking up at her wide eyed as she stood across from her.

“Can I sit here? I promise I’ll be quiet and I have snacks I can offer as bribery,” Olive smiled, putting on what she hoped was her friendliest face as the girl looked at her inquisitively. 

“Uhm, sure,” she nodded slightly before settling back into her book. 

Olive sat down and carefully started pulling her materials from her bag. She was doing her best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb the pretty girl in front of her. She let her eyes slip up and connect awkwardly with hers. 

“I’m Olive,” she smiled, trying again to break the ice in hopes that it truly was okay that she was sitting here.

“Autumn,” the girl replied. 

Olive continued arranging her things, combing through her notebook for the page where she left off so that she could resume her reading notes. Autumn watched her carefully as she did so, seeing Olive’s egregious amount of sticky notes with black ink scribbled all over them. She looked over at the book that Olive pulled out, more sticky notes visible from the sides of it. Autumn looked down in front of her, nothing there except for a pen and the short bullet points scribbled on her own arm and she immediately felt the contrast between them. When she looked back up, she noticed that Olive was now holding the same book that she was currently sitting with. 

“Are you in the contemporary poetry writing class too?” Olive looked up at Autumn, her small voice surprising her as she looked over at the book the redhead was currently holding in her hands. She hadn’t yet been to the class, having missed the first week of summer courses because she went home with Brock to meet his family properly, so she couldn’t have seen Autumn before. 

“Yeah, are you?” She asked, a friendly tone in her voice. 

“Mhm, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, it’s a pretty small class,” Autumn was surprised at how forward she was being, she wasn’t normally one to be talkative with people she didn’t know. But she was new to Vancouver, and finding common ground with someone who had at least given her the impression that she was nice might not be a bad idea. She had been so excited to move here for school, escaping her hellish small town where everyone pathetically needed to one up each other with some trivial small town mindset. She hated how no one there seemed to want to leave, even though every last one of her peers from home were shallow minded and would do anything to cure some of the boredom that came from never leaving. 

‘Oh, no I missed last week. I was in Minnesota with my boyfriend,” Olive smiled, thinking to herself about Brock and how it had only been a few days and she missed him. Her time in Minnesota was short but sweet. Brock’s family was incredibly important to him and she knew how close they were, so meeting them formally and as his girlfriend instead of just in passing had been nerve racking. Brock could ignore Elias’s now non-existent objections, but if his family didn’t like her she knew that it would be a deal breaker for them. 

“Oh, is he from there?” Autumn asked, setting her book down. She could see on Olive’s face how much she lit up at the mention of this boy she was with. She was doing her best to not be shy, to try and make conversation with Olive and hopefully at least have a study partner for their shared class. Autumn was never great at making friends, her thoughts were often internal and she was quiet, and she was normally okay with that. She was an observer and liked to take in the world around her with her own thoughts, coming up with backstories for strangers in her head. But something about Olive was inviting, and she found herself wanting to hear her instead of imagining her story. 

“Yeah, but he lives here for work. He’ll be back in a few weeks though. Hey, you should come out with us. He and our friend Elias have this dive bar night tradition when they get back in town. The bar they pick is usually terrible, but the drinks are cheap and the company is great. 

Autumn was caught off guard at the invitation, but found herself wanting to accept anyways.

“Okay,” she smiled, picking her book up once more and beginning to read. 

Brock had only been back home in Minnesota for a few weeks, but he found himself counting down the days until he could go back to Vancouver. Normally he loved going home, spending everyday on the lake and with his family. But this year it was different, this year he had someone waiting for him in Vancouver, and while he loved being home he knew that his heart was nestled into that small brick studio apartment, tucked safely right on the kitchen table next to a days old mug of coffee and a list that was probably far too scattered for him to even understand, Olive guarding it safely as she worked on the latest project or deadline she had to meet. 

One thing that had been getting him moderately through was their nightly calls, always at the same time, and always ending with both of them falling asleep together over FaceTime. Technology had given them an avenue to still be together, even if it wasn’t physically. 

“I’m so ready for you and the dogs to be back, I feel like I’m going insane here in my apartment now that summer term ended and you’re not here,” Olive smiles into her phone, Brock looking back at her fondly. He had just spent the afternoon on the lake, and his nose was slightly burnt, something that Olive teased him about. Truth be told, he couldn’t wait to be back either, this time for different reasons than the previous years. This year he had someone to come back to, and all he wanted to do was get back into the city and back with his girl. 

“Do you miss me or just the dogs?” He laughed, flipping the camera to show both Coolie and Milo at his feet. 

“Mostly them, but I do miss you too. Oh, speaking of, can I invite someone to dive bar night? I found a place too,” Olive asked as Brock flipped the phone back so that he was showing, now running a hand through his slightly damp hair. 

“Sure? You have a new boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” He joked. 

“No, but I met this girl that I think Elias would like. Brock, she’s like so pretty. Like so absolutely gorgeous, way prettier than Elias and he’s pretty. She’s a redhead though, does he even like redheads? I also kind of already invited her, so if you say no well then that’s tough shit for you,” She started rambling about Autumn, the girl who she had quickly become nearly best friends with in the short time that they had known each other. 

“God Brock, they’d be perfect. They both think too much, it’ll be great. Elias will probably hate her clothes but he can get over that. Did I mention she’s absolutely stunning?” Olive added. 

“Oh my god,” Brock laughed at Olive on his screen, “She’s not prettier than me right? Not going to leave me and build a little bookshop somewhere with her? He joked. 

“I mean if Elias doesn’t go for her, it’s not a bad idea, maybe I should ask her…” Olive trailed off. 

“You’re not even bi, calm down.” Brock teased.

“Sexuality is fluid Brockadoodle, especially when it’s pretty girls who read. Unlike you, who does not.” 

“Petey doesn’t read either!” Brock retorted. 

“Look, all men have flaws. You and Elias just happen to have the same one. If I can deal with it, so can Autumn,” Olive teased as she adjusted her glasses on her nose, taking her pen and scribbling down a few notes. Brock just rolled his eyes slightly, a fond smile on his face as he watched Olive get excited over the idea of playing matchmaker. 

‘I’m kidding, honey. But, I really think that her and Elias would be a pretty couple, as I mentioned, they both think too much.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t meddle,” Brock tried, not wanting to put them in the middle of something involving Petey again. 

“Listen, I’m trying to help our friends find happiness, this is not the same thing as what happened to us. So, can I bring her to dive bar night?” Olive was set in her mind, Autumn had quickly become one of her best friends and she wanted her to meet the other people in her life that had helped make the last year feel full, and if she could help two of her friends potentially find the love that her and Brock had found, she absolutely wanted to do it. Autumn and Elias both deserved happiness and love, and she couldn’t help but keep adding things to her lists of reasons about why they were almost a perfect match as she thought about setting them up more and more. 

“Of course, I mean I’d love to meet this girl you’re going to run away and start a bookshop with,” Brock teased. He genuinely did want to meet Autumn. He loved hearing Olive get excited about anything, and he was more than happy to add someone else into the small group of friends that he had in Vancouver. 

“Mhm, you don’t think Elias will be mad right? You know how he is about new people, but I think he’d really like her.” Olive said, internally groaning about how selective Elias was about who he spent his time with. It’s not that he was mean, or rude, but he took a while to warm up to new faces. Even when they had become friends, she was so sure he didn’t like her for weeks until they bonded over some obscure European grocery store in East Vancouver.

“He’ll be fine,” Brock shrugged. 

--------------

A few weeks later, Brock found himself settling back into Vancouver, a familiar calm presence resonating in him as he adjusted back into the routine. This time was different though, because he was happy to be back for new reasons this year, one of which was standing in his ensuite bathroom getting ready for the annual dive bar night experience that had become one of his favorite traditions since moving to Vancouver. 

“Brock, where’s my lipstick? I swear I left one here last time,” Olive called from the ensuite as she dug through the drawer of her things that had found a home in his bathroom. There were signs of her everywhere in his condo, and Brock had been steadily dropping hints for weeks about her just moving in. 

Brock came into the ensuite, gently placing his hand on her waist as he leaned around her to pull the lipstick from his drawer. He smirked slightly as she took it from his hands. He made no move to change positions as he watched her swipe the signature crimson over her lips and fix her hair. 

“You know you wouldn’t have to have duplicates if you just moved in, Ollie,” he said as he kissed her neck softly and tightened his grip on her waist. Olive turned her body into his to face him, lifting her hand to thread her fingers through his hair softly. The idea sounded amazing to her and she couldn’t in good faith argue that it was a bad idea when she knew that she would be spending more time here than her own apartment now that he was back. It also made her heart flutter, knowing that he was serious about her in the ways that she was serious about him. But, she also had her apprehensions, and didn’t want to rush into something too soon. 

“My lease is up in December, let’s revisit then, yeah?” She smiled, thinking he would be okay with the compromise. Brock kissed her in response. 

“So, that’s a yes just not yet, right?” He smirked. 

“We’ll talk in November,” she laughed as she pulled herself away from him, fixing her slightly smudged lipstick. Her phone buzzed with a text from Autumn, letting her know that she was on her way to the bar to meet everyone.

“Come on, you’re always late!” She teased, walking out of the bathroom with Brock on her heels. 

“Yeah, don’t think that’s me.” He laughed as he grabbed his keys.  

Olive reflected back on the last time she walked through these bar doors, she was with Elias and was looking forward to meeting his best friend. She had no idea that by walking into the shitty dive bar in East Vancouver that night that she would meet someone who would completely engulf her with a type of love that she only knew from books and dreams. She didn’t know that the blonde boy, who was slightly sunburnt and bold enough to wear Birkenstocks to a bar would be the one that she was walking in with just a year later. Brock reached his hand down and he laced his fingers with hers, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple before they got to the entrance. 

“Love you, Ollie.” He said, a wave of nostalgia from the last year hitting him as they got closer. Last year he watched as Olive walked into the bar with her red lips and messy hair and this year he was the one that got to walk in holding her hand. To anyone else it would be something straight out of a terrible Hallmark card that you get for Valentine’s Day, but to Brock it was the truth, he did feel lucky. All of the time spent, all of the drama had been worth it to him because that stuff is inconsequential when you know you want to be with someone.

Olive looked up at him and tugged on his hand slightly as she leaned up to kiss him properly, her red lipstick smudging slightly. She took her other hand and wiped it from his lips quickly, smiles on both of their faces. 

“Love you, Brockadoodle. Now, let’s see if we can help Elias fall in love.” 

[spooderboyandtincan]

We’re with you...

Through thick and thin

TW: Graphic depictions of violence; blood

~~~~~

Tony felt his heart leap in fear when he heard a certain spider-baby’s voice behind him. He whirled around in mid air, dropping a few feet in shock before he stabilized himself.

“Hi, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirped excitedly, skillfully swinging in a large arc and flipping onto his armor, the eyes of his mask almost comically wide. “What’s up?”

Tony struggled to see the boy who was perched on his back, twisting his neck back and forth. “What the hell are you doing here, Pete?”

“I just wanted to help,” he whined, his head hovering upside down in front of Tony’s face. 

“No, you don’t,” he grumbled, trying to grab hold of his kid, who was crawling all over his back to avoid him. “You want to go back to school and learn about why the adults in your life are trying to keep you safe.”

Peter giggled. “I know, Tony, and I am safe. I have you!”

He said it so cheerfully, so matter-of-factly, as if Tony’s heart hadn’t melted and his brain hadn’t turned to mush at his precious kid’s words. He was grateful for the helmet shielding his face, otherwise Peter might have been soaked in his tears.

“Mr. Stark? You okay?”

He jerked out of his stupor. “Yeah.” He sniffed. “Yeah, buddy, I’m great.”

“Okay.” Peter sounded suspicious, but he let it drop. “Sure.”

“So, um... what’s going on?” He looked around, trying to find the other Avengers and their opponent(s).

Peter barely saw the blast in time. 

He jumped up and aimed a web at the nearest skyscraper, pulling Tony with him, the man letting out a shout of surprise. 

The spot where they had just been was now raining down ash and bright purple sparks.

Peter blinked the black spots out of his eyes, his ears ringing slightly. Gradually he realized that Tony was shouting; they were moving fast, Tony’s metal arms wrapped tight around him.

“Peter! Are you okay, Bug?” the man yelled frantically, masked face hovering in front of Peter’s.

“Arachnid,” he corrected. He heard Tony breathe a heavy sigh of relief. They landed on the roof of a towering skyscraper. Peter was sure that Mr. Stark was running over his vitals in the suit and checking for any injuries, no matter how minor they might be. Peter rolled his eyes.

“What was that?” he asked, looking around wildly. “Is Mister Doctor Strange here?”

“I am,” said a dry voice behind them. “But that wasn’t me.”

Tony jumped protectively in front of Peter as they spun around, then relaxed, just slightly, when he recognized the tall figure standing in front of the remnants of a glowing orange portal.

“Strange,” Tony greeted.

“Stark.” Stephen nodded.

Peter waved, grinning.

“What’s with the light show?” Tony asked, setting a hand on his kid’s shoulder.

“A wizard,” the doctor said shortly. “And a powerful one, too. Neoma Ambrosia. She’s fairly new to magic, but she’s dangerous.”

“I think Neoma means ‘new moon’ in Greek,” Peter mused quietly. Tony ruffled his hair proudly, nodding. My genius kid, he thought fondly. 

“Tony! What’s going on?”

Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Bucky ran up. Peter couldn’t help but wonder how they had climbed up to the roof. He imagined Sam trying to lug two super soldiers and a heavily armed assassin up a one hundred seventy-five meter tall skyscraper; Peter was sure he could do it.

“There’s a crazy wizard trying to kill us!” the young spider said enthusiastically. “Her name’s Neoma Ambrosia, which I’m pretty sure means ‘new moon’ in Greek, which is like, a super cool name. And she shoots purple fire! We haven’t seen her in, like, fifteen minutes, though.”

Tony chuckled as the other four Avengers blinked. His kid was a whirlwind, and he loved to listen to him chatter.

“Everyone keep watch!” Steve yelled, making Peter flinch. Tony squeezed his neck gently and glared at the super soldier, who remained oblivious. “Eyes peeled like grapes!”

“Ew,” Peter muttered. 

They spent the next ten minutes straining their eyes for any sight of Neoma.

Tony was about to turn to Steve and suggest they search the ground, when the edge of the roof exploded with a familiar purple fire, right where Peter was standing.

Tony screamed his child’s name, white, icy-hot terror running through his veins. Rubble tumbled off that building, falling with the small red and blue body. 

“No,” he whispered, thrusters at full speed. “No. No. No no no no!”

He crashed to the concrete and sprinted to the rubble that covered his kid.  

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” he muttered fervently, throwing the huge boulders with his iron hands as if they were pebbles. He was sure he could lift them just as easily without his suit with the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. All the while he yelled, over and over again, the name of the one reason he got out of bed in the morning, the one reason he was alive: his only child, his son, his baby. 

At last, at last, he spotted delicate curls peeking out from a hole in a red mask. Tony sobbed and crumpled to his knees, clearing the last of the rocks off of the boy’s small body.

“Peter,” he gasped. He peeled off his mask as gently as he could, hands trembling. “Peter.”

Miraculously, he was somehow awake. Tony sobbed frantically and kissed his forehead. His face was bruised and bloody, with tears rolling slowly off his cheeks. Peter held out shaking arms and made grabby hands, whimpering like a wounded kitten.

Tony ever so gently maneuvered the boy into his lap, Peter slumping heavily against his chest. He cupped his cheeks and kissed both of them, stroking his forehead and smiling tremulously. “Petey. Oh Petey.”

He bit back another cry, trying to hold in for his kid, who was cradled in his arms, bleeding and broken. Peter coughed, and with tremendous effort, lifted his hand to Tony’s face.

The man grasped it instantly, squeezing his small hand tight and trying to rub some sense of warmth into his cold skin. He pressed light kisses to the back of his hand. 

“Oh, baby, oh my god,” Tony whispered breathlessly, rocking his child back and forth in his arms. “You’re okay, you’re okay, sweetheart, shh.” 

Tears flowed down both their faces. Tony rushed to comfort Peter, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb. “We’re gonna fix you up, Petey, just hold on. Hold on for me, ‘kay? Doctor Strange and the rest are just making sure it’s safe, and Doctor Cho is coming right now- she’ll be here any second, okay? You just gotta hold on, Petey.”

He sniffed and snuggled Peter more tightly against his chest. “All you gotta do is focus on me. Just look at me, honey. I love you, baby, I love you so much. Stay with me, il mio bambino.”

Peter's eyes drifted lazily up to meet his. He struggled to focus on Tony’s face, his vision blurry and his eyes glassy. “Mi-mis’ er St’rk,” he croaked. “‘Ony.” He coughed, struggling to form words with his bloody, scratched lips and his dry mouth.

“Shh, shh,” Tony soothed. “Shh, baby, I’m right here. You’re doing you great, Petey.” He tangled his fingers in Peter’s curls, smoothing his hair down comfortingly. “You’re doing so great, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” Tony hastily wiped away his tears, which had begun to fall down to Peter’s face. “Just hold on, please.”

He squeezed his hand tightly, looking away and blinking rapidly when he realized his façade of calmness was shattering. 

Peter whimpered.

Tony’s eyes snapped back to his kid in fear. “Petey-?” he asked worriedly, then followed his gaze.

“Oh god.”

The sounds of blasts and explosions and fighting that faded completely came back full force when he realized the wizard was just ten yards in front of them, standing tall on a hill rubble, her dark gray robes swirling around her.

Tony gasped. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he rushed to protect his kid. He wrapped his arms tightly around Peter’s head and curled around the small body, effectively shielding him from an inevitable spell or explosion. 

And then-

He kicked off their pile of rubble and began to roll down, trying desperately to cushion Peter’s head as they gained momentum. Sharp stones slice at his skin but he favored protecting his kid far, far above his own safety. 

There was an explosion, so bright that purple swam in front of Tony’s closed eyes. Shards of glass and rock rained down on them and Tony could do nothing but squeeze Peter tighter and press his lips to his forehead and hope this wouldn’t be the end. 

Darkness.

~~~~~

He was really to have an Aunt May and an Uncle Rhodey, Peter thought drowsily. He blinked slowly up at the two, trying to smile. Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder gently.

“You okay, kid?”

“Mmmm.” Peter tried to form words but his lips were dry and cracked and his throat was sore and barren. 

Aunt May grabbed a glass off the bedside table while Rhodey used the remote to raise the bed into a sitting position and helped Peter shift around. May pressed the glass to his lips and he gulped the cool water down gratefully.

“Small sips, sweetie,” May advised, pulling the glass away. The boy didn’t seem to mind. He gazed up at the ceiling for a long moment, and both Rhodey and May thought he was about to fall asleep, but then Peter frowned. He looked to his left, and then to his right. 

“‘Ony? Wh-where’s…?” he rasped. Tears began to well up in his eyes. “‘Ony?”

“Tony’s right over there, bud,” said Rhodey. He gestured to where the billionaire lay, just a few feet away in a white hospital bed almost identical to Peter’s.

“Wan’ him.” Peter tried to sit up but May pushed him back down easily. 

“Tony’s right there, honey, right there, why don’t you go back to sleep?” 

“Wan’ Dad,” he whined. He tried to sit up again but fell back. “Dad.”

“Oh- oh, that’s so sweet,” May mumbled adoringly, while Rhodey tried to hold in a fond laugh.

“Dad!” Peter became increasingly more upset. Tears brimmed in his eyes and his bottom lip trembled.

“Okay, okay, Petey, calm down, it’s okay,” May cooed, rushing to comfort him and combing his hair. “Rhodey, can you help me move the bed?”

They unlocked the wheels of the bed and began to slowly roll it over to Tony.

~~~~~

When Tony faded back to the land of the living, he realized something was wrong right off the bat.

At first his realization was subconscious, in the pit of his stomach. Then, slowly, it grew, and grew, into full blown panic.

Something was missing- no someone, someone he knew that he couldn’t live without, someone precious who was not just his world but his universe-

Peter.

Peter.

Tony’s eyes snapped open and he jolted up in what he now realized was a hospital bed. His head swam and he swayed, the floor looming dangerously closer before he was caught in a pair of strong arms.

“Tony!”

The owner of a familiar voice heaved him back onto the bed. He blinked, trying to clear his head, and realized it was Rhodey, his Rhodey, bent over to look him in the eye and looking very concerned. “Tones? You okay?”

Tony looked around wildly, clutching Rhodey’s arm. His eyes settled on Peter, who was smiling loopily at him a few feet away. May hovered at his side, frowning worriedly at Tony.

“Petey.”

He tried to escape Rhodey’s strong grasp, desperate to get to his kid. Rhodey tried to comfort the distraught father while May pushed Peter over to him.

“Peter- Peter.” Tony began to sob. “Petey, c’mere. C’mere, baby.” 

May pressed the mattresses together and locked the wheels of the bed carefully, then double checking them just in case. She checked the various wires, making sure Peter’s IV, heart monitor, and oxygen tube were still in place. 

Meanwhile, with Rhodey’s help, Tony clambered over to his kid and almost collapsed next to him. He sobbed, cupping Peter’s face with gentle, calloused and resting his forehead against Peter’s. 

Tony was silent, spare the sharp sobs catching in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “‘M so sorry, Petey.” He began to crawl ungracefully under the covers and wrapped Peter ever so gently in his arms. The boy snuggled against him and hummed happily as Tony began fussing over him. 

He reminded Rhodey of a younger Tony at MIT, falling asleep in Rhodey’s bunk and holding a (Rhodey’s) teddy bear to his chest and snoring. 

“Geez, bud, you really can’t keep scaring your dad like this,” he muttered, grabbing Peter’s free hand and squeezing it. “He has a heart condition, y’know.”

Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek, gasping softly in adoration at the giggle he received. His eyes were huge and sparkling with love. It was a sharp contrast to his previous tears, and much more sweet for Rhodey and May to watch. 

“Poor kiddie,” Tony murmured, stroking Peter’s cheek with a calloused thumb. “My poor kiddie.” 

“Aww,” Rhodey and May whispered almost simultaneously. They exchanged an amused glance and laughed.

Tony glared at them. “Shhh. He's resting!” he hissed, rather loudly. Peter blinked sleepily up at him, but Tony kissed his forehead to comfort him and he relaxed against his chest.

“Right,” May chuckled. “Right, sorry.”

Tony paused and then nodded in satisfaction. He combed his fingers through Peter’s hair soothingly and looked up to Rhodey and May. “This-this’s my baby. He’s my baby. M-my baby, my spider-baby,” Tony mumbled, kissing the boy’s forehead.

Rhodey snorted and struggled to hold in his laughter. May grinned. “Our spider-baby,” she corrected, caressing Peter’s cheek with her fingers.

To their great amusement, Tony pulled the now asleep Peter to his chest protectively, his arms tightening around him as he buried his nose in his curls and shook his head. “Mine.” 

“Yours?” she laughed, raising her eyebrows.

“H-he’s my baby, and I’m his dad. And it’s my job to-to protect him. ‘Cause I’m his dad,” he explained. “And I love him. So much. I love him.”

May giggled. “Aww, Tony, don’t worry, Peter knows it.” 

“FRIDAY, please tell me you’re recording this,” Rhodey whispered.

“Rest assured, I am,” the AI replied, sounding as fond as a disembodied voice could be.

“This is adorable,” he said, looking back to the very loopy Tony. May nodded. She patted Rhodey on the shoulder in a gesture of comfort, knowing how worried they both had been when they’d seen the medical helicopter land at the compound.

Trying to keep the two superheroes safe, as they had realized, was a challenge, especially when they couldn’t always be there. May couldn’t fly. And even though Rhodey could, they both had jobs that kept them busy.

It was hard to be there for a superhero, but it was easy to love them. They might not be there always, but goddammit, they’d do anything and everything in their power to make sure they were okay. 

A soft snore, more like a purr than anything, interrupted the pair’s thoughts.

Peter’s cheek was squashed on Tony’s chest. Tony took the sleeve of his hospital gown and wiped the drool from his chin, looking unhappy about how rough the cloth was on his baby’s skin. 

“I need a hoodie,” he muttered. Rhodey graciously offered to grab one, happy to take a coffee break, and May left to grab one of Peter’s. (Though most of Peter’s hoodies were actually ones he had stolen from various friends and family.)

When Rhodey and May returned from the expeditions of rummaging through many messy drawers and selecting as many hoodies as they could find, they grabbed a quick coffee and hurried back to the medbay.

They found both Tony and Peter fast asleep. Tony’s arms were wrapped around his kid tightly, one hand in the boy’s curls and the other wrapped around his back and holding him close. Peter’s head rested on his chest as a makeshift pillow, looking absolutely tiny in the big bed with Tony protecting him, even in sleep. 

May laughed fondly, kissing Peter’s forehead and then settling in her squishy purple chair. Rhodey flopped down in a leather armchair and they both took a big swig of their coffees. 

Rhodey pulled out a Starkpad and began scrolling, while May fished a book and her glasses out of her purse. 

They would be there for as long as it took for Tony and Peter to recover. And after that, they would still be there. They loved their superheroes, even though May and sometimes even Rhodey, forgot that they were superheroes too.

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute

If you want to be added/removed let me know!

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

[soulmate-game]

Awesome, cool (on RE: Marivel). Caaaan we get... uh, Soulmate Game version of marvel/ml crossover? Marinette x Peter? Or just Marinette meeting Peter via Dr. Strange in your Lady Strange AU (post-endgame maybe??). Take your pick (or do both?) and thank you if you do write them!!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Yes.

This is a crossover between my Lady Strange AU and my Soulmate-Game AU, but since this is a different pairing it receives a different bond. I hope you like it!

—*—*—*—*—*

“I think somebody drew on me in my sleep,” was the first thing he told his Aunt and Uncle, who just blinked at him for a long moment with their toothbrushes half in their mouths. Peter was supposed to be getting ready for school in his own room, but instead, well.

His guardians’ eyes landed on the two childish, but extremely clean doodles on the top of Peter’s shoulders. They were ladybugs, one in red ink and the other blue. Only the outline was colored at all.

The little boy was tearing up.

“I don’t know how they e-ended up here. Why would s-somebody draw on me? It’s mean. Is this the boogeyman? Does…”

He was interrupted by May and Ben’s laughter, shrinking into himself as the adults tried to get ahold of themselves. Ben was the first to sober up, sinking to his knees and carefully laying a gentle hand on Peter’s naked arm, making sure not to come close to the new mark on his shoulder. The poor boy had stopped putting on a shirt altogether in favor of worrying over the doodles.

“No, no,” Ben soothed, running his other hand through Peter’s cinnamon hair. “No boogeyman. This is a good thing, Petey.”

He sniffled, looking up at his father figure warily, a hopeful spark in his eye. “It is?”

“Yeah. Do you remember what we told you about soul marks?” He asked his nephew, who was starting to calm down. The boy nodded, pushing his thick glasses back up his nose from where they had started to slip.

“Almost everyone has one,” he started to recite, furrowing his brows to try and remember what he had been told.

“And they can come in hundreds of different ways,” May filled in, kneeling beside her husband. “Some people have a picture or a name on them to represent their Destined. Some people are colorblind, or missing just one color until they meet their other half.”

“Some people can switch bodies or hear a song in their head that tells them how their soulmate is feeling,” Ben agreed. “There are tons of Bonds. Not everyone has a physical mark. But you,” he nodded to the ladybugs on his nephew’s shoulders. “You do.”

Peter started panicking again. “Oh no, I have two soulmates? What am I gonna do? What if they don’t like me, how can I love two people, I—“

“Relax, honey,” May rustled Peter’s hair with a soft smile. “I don’t think you have two, I think your mark is more complicated than that. Look, the ladybugs are exactly the same except for the color. The mark will probably do something exciting later, when you meet them.”

“Something exciting?” Peter parroted, making Ben chuckle.

“Yeah, but for now they are just cute pictures. Pictures which better be covered up by a shirt soon, or you’ll be late to school bud.”

“Ack!” He had forgotten he was still shirtless. “Sorry Uncle Ben!” Peter Benjamin Parker dashed back to his room as fast as his seven-year-old legs would carry him.

—*—*—*—*—*

Seven years later.

Marinette hummed, analyzing her reflection. Her halter top looked nice, a new design of hers. Tikki hovered near her, similarly happy with the clothing. And then the Kwami squeaked in dismay when her holder reached for foundation.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing Marinette?!” The little god asked, tempted to take the makeup away. “The shirt makes your soul marks stand out so beautifully! I’m not a huge fan of spiders, but yours are so cute!”

The pigtailed girl blushed bright red, looking into the mirror to see both of the little doodles on her shoulders at the same time. They really were adorable, one cartoony spider on the top of each shoulder, one red and one blue. She didn’t wear the crop top to show them off though. She wore it because she needed to feel confident, and her usual blouses weren’t cutting it. She wanted to feel powerful, free, anything to escape the feeling of water droplets on her skin and the sight of people pinned by buildings, drowning. Blue skin, glassy eyes—

Marinette’s shook her head, taking a deep breath. The halter top she was wearing was a carefully, artistically dyed swirl of baby blue and baby pink. Strategic gathers in the cloth swirled the two colors around one another, bringing them to a small pinpoint of pale purple at the very point where the cloth had first been pinched and curled.

It was whimsical, it was childish and mature all at once. It was what Hope felt like to Marinette. The very thing she needed to try and heal from the whole Syren disaster a few weeks earlier.

“I like them too,” Marinette finally responded to her Kwami, running her fingers over the blue spider, the one on her right shoulder. It had completely vanished when she got home after the Syren attack, proving her father right from when he had told her all those years ago that her Bond was likely more than just a few doodles. “But only my parents know about them. I know the Miraculous suits are pretty much indestructible, but I don’t want to take any chances with this crazy world. If my shoulders ever get exposed while I’m Ladybug, I don’t want anyone to be able to connect that to Marinette,” she explained, slowly and regretfully spreading foundation over both marks and spritzing setting spray over it so that the makeup wouldn’t move anytime soon.

She knew why her blue spider had temporarily vanished. She had thought maybe she had just been imagining it before, when she would occasionally be in the middle of an anxiety attack and think that her blue spider was a little paler than usual. Or on the few occasions when she was going days without sleep, or overextending herself for her friends and her red spider would look a little dull.

She wondered what that meant for the person on the other end of their connection.

—*—*—*—*—*

And then she found out. She was fifteen, and it was about five in the morning. Marinette jolted out of bed, feeling a searing heat on her right shoulder. Throwing her shirt off, she saw it— her red spider was glowing. She felt herself trembling, but she didn’t know why. Tears were raining down her face, but she wasn’t sad. Her hands felt oddly wet and sticky, but they were completely clean.

The teenager shared a long, bewildered look with Tikki before carefully letting her fingers brush over the red spider. And she understood.

Anger. Guilt. He’s blaming himself. He’s dead. My fault. My fault. Blood. Is she feeling this? I’m making her feel this. Stupid. Worthless. Mistake. Mistake.

Marinette pried her hand away from the mark, gasping from the influx of emotions. She didn’t know details, probably to protect the identity of the person on the other end of the Bond, but she got the gist of it. The longer she had stayed on the connection, the more lucid thoughts she got straight from the boy himself. None of it had been promising.

She was able to surmise this; someone close to him died, or was dying. Her hands probably felt sticky because of the literal blood on his. Oh Kwami, he probably saw them die right in front of him. Probably held them.

And there was no Cure to reverse it for him.

But the most important part was that he was blaming himself for it, and Marinette couldn’t stand it. She ground her teeth, and touched the mark again with full intention of making sure he knew it wasn’t his fault. That he wasn’t worthless, and that she wasn’t mad at him for this.

But nothing happened. She tried touching the blue spider, but nothing happened. She tried meditating, hoping they had a mental connection—nothing. Absolutely. Nothing.

The heat was gone from her shoulder, the connection over.

Marinette raged at her inability to help a boy she never met.

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, she knew the situation was about to be reversed. She stared down at the old man in front of her, frail and weak but forcing himself to stand and hold the heavy box in the air in front of him. The weight made his twig-thin arms shake, and the pigtailed girl quickly snatched the item before it or the man holding it dropped.

“Master,” she whispered, her eyes frantically searching his. “Don’t. The magic, Tikki’s magic, can help. I’ve been practicing. Don’t—“

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Sabine Cheng and biological daughter of Steven Strange,” the old man started, making Marinette snap her mouth shut with the force of his words. She didn’t know how he found out about her biological father, but didn’t bother asking. It wasn’t important, and he had too many possible ways of finding out through magic. No, his words right now were the only things she found worth focusing on in that moment. “I, Wang Fu, find myself too old to carry on my duties as Grand Guardian. But you are the best student I could have ever asked for. A True Ladybug with a soul of creation, a disciplined mind, and an open heart. I name you as my heir, and as the new Grand Guardian. Do you accept the transference of my title?”

Marinette didn’t want to. The wise eyes boring back into hers said that he knew, that he would understand if she refused. But Marinette also knew that refusing would not grant her the happy ending she wanted from this situation, only regret. His eyes said that he knew that, too.

“I accept,” she didn’t know how she was able to croak that out, but she managed somehow. “Wang Fu, I will gladly take on the title of Lady Strange, the new Grand Guardian. I vow to protect as you have protected, to guard the innocent and punish those who try to upset balance with the Miraculous. To keep the Universe as peaceful as possible with my power.”

“Then let my wisdom become yours,” Fu finished the sacred speech, closing his eyes as a bright green mist was born from his feet. It grew, sliding up his body until it exited his head in a giant luminous cloud like a swarm of fireflies on a misty night. Marinette refused to close her eyes, stubbornly keeping her gaze on Master Fu as the magical green fog covered her own body and sank into her skin. The knowledge of the Guardian’s language and traditions appeared in her mind, along with the rest of Fu’s wisdom and experience with the Miraculous.

“Young lady? Are you alright, you’re crying.”

Marinette took a deep breath, her eyes still locked onto the brown orbs that no longer recognized her. Slowly, she put the miracle box down on his bedside table.

“Yes, I’m fine. How do you feel?”

The old man wobbled, and the young girl had to catch him before he fell. “Let’s get you into bed,” she decided for him, getting a nod and a grateful smile in return. It was after he was in his bed and his eyes were starting to droop that he spoke again, this time in Mandarin.

Which Marinette now spoke, like a final gift from him to her.

“Are you my granddaughter?”

Marinette bit her lip, placing a gentle hand on Fu’s shoulder before responding in the same language;

“That’s right.”

She didn’t need a heart monitor to know when his pulse stopped. She could feel the magic of life drain from him, the Creation that made him who he was disappearing from his form. She dropped, her legs no longer able to support her weight, and sobbed into his comforter.

It happened then, she could feel a phantom hand on her right shoulder. Trying to provide comfort but not able to speak.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I want you here. But thank you. For everything. Thank you.

She didn’t know if she was trying to send those thoughts to Fu or to the boy trying to help her despite never having met her.

—*—*—*—*—*

This is part 1, because Tumblr doesn’t allow me to post the whole thing. Stupid word limits >:[ part 2 right here 

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Happy birthday hun! How about list B, #1 and #2???

Thank you love! I’m sorry these are taking longer than expected but I’m getting there. this one is kind of rushed and you didn’t specify the list from B (fluff or misc) so i chose them from the fluff list. I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted but i hope you still like it. 

WC: 1.1k

Prompts (in bold):

“Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.”

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

“Hey Y/n?” 

You looked up at Peter, pausing the movie since you didn’t want to miss the next part. “Hm?” 

He blushed and ran his fingers through your hair, smiling softly but you could tell he was nervous. “Well the team is having this sort of party on Friday for my birthday…” He spoke slowly and you smiled to encourage him. “And I was wondering if you’d go with me?” 

You smiled wider, ignoring the pang of nerves and kissed his blushing cheek, cupping the other with your free hand. “I’d love too Petey just as long as you hold my hand.” 

“Deal.” Peter giggled and you could tell he felt relief that you’d said yes. “They’re gonna love you.” He started to ramble about the different members on the team and you tried not to focus on the nerves that flooded through your system. These were the people you looked up to and had heard so much about, what if they didn’t like you? What if they didn’t approve of you dating Peter, especially Tony? You knew they had a father-son type relationship and he was important to Peter. 

“Baby?” 

You snapped back to reality and smiled at Peter who was looking at you expectantly. “Sorry Petey.”

“It’s okay, i was just asking if you wanted any ice cream?” Peter giggled and brushed your hair back, kissing your nose as you nodded. You whined a little as he got up to get it, instantly missing his warmth before he turned back to you as if he had sensed your worries. “And don’t worry I promise it’s going to be okay.”

But Peter’s reassurances did nothing to ease your nerves as the week progressed and all of a sudden Friday had come all too quickly. 

You checked your outfit in the mirror again, straightening your t-shirt down and hoping it wasn’t too casual or even too much. You tried to make your hair look as nice as possible and put some makeup on before hearing a knock on the door. 

You rushed down before your family could get to the door and smiled as you opened it to see Peter on the other side of the door, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Hey angel.” 

He handed you the flowers and smiled, kissing your cheek. 

“Aw Pete, I'm meant to be giving you the gifts.” You giggled and blushed, taking them into the kitchen and putting them in water. 

“I saw them and I couldn’t resist.” He shrugged, following you and smiling wide as you thanked him. You stole a kiss before taking his hand, squeezing it tight. “Ready?” 

You nodded and took a deep breath, squeezing his hand again. “Yeah lets go.” 

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived, loud music and laughter filling up the room. Everyone was there including the avengers and some of Peter’s friends who were clued into his situation. Your nerves spiked again as you subconsciously squeezed Peter’s hand but as he squeezed back reassuringly you felt your nerves ease somewhat.

After a chorus of happy birthdays and a round of questions about the both of you from various avengers which made Peter blush. It wasn’t until Thor asked when you were finally going to get together that you realised they didn’t know. 

“Pete?” Your boyfriend hummed and turned towards you as you pulled him to a quiet side of the party. “They don’t know we’re together do they?” 

“Um well,” The blush on Peter’s face said it all and your knowing smile told him as much. “I just- I didn’t know who we were telling and I didn’t want all the questions. I wanted it to be between us for a while.” 

You sighed softly and smiled, kissing his cheek which promptly stopped his rambling. “It’s okay Petey.” 

“It is?” 

“Yeah this will be more fun.” You giggled and stole a kiss before clearing your throat and heading back out to the party. Peter furrowed his brows for a moment before following you. He led you over to a small group of younger avengers playing a game of truth and dare. Your least favourite game but you sat down to play it anyway, staying close to Peter’s side.

He smiled and hugged you tighter to him. You giggled, feeling slightly more relaxed in his arms as you played the game and blushing at the knowing looks people were giving you. 

Laughter flowed as the game continued, you always choosing to stay safe with truth with protests each time. You’d already answered several questions about Peter and your relationship with him, each question more embarrassing than the next but you played it cool, not revealing the truth.

Eventually it was your turn once again. You gave an inner sigh and chose dare, feeling bolder than you had when the game had first started. Everyone in the circle cheered and collectively whispered before agreeing on something. Shuri turned to you with a smirk and spoke the dare, “I dare you to make out with Peter.”

You tried to bite back your smile and blushed furiously, knowing this was the easiest and your favorite dare by far. The rest of the group however thought they had the upper hand in teasing you both. 

Peter was also blushing deeply, his cheeks as red as a tomato. MJ leaned back and laughed, smirking at how badly you were both blushing. 

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” 

Both of you quickly shook your heads and giggled as you turned to each other before looking away again. The small group cheered you on and you bit back your smirk as you straddled Peter’s lap and quickly crashed your lips to his. 

He let out a gasp of surprise but quickly relaxed into the kiss and returned it happily, his arms finding their favourite place around your waist. He held you close as you cupped his cheeks and deepened the kiss. Everyone else watching in surprise, a couple of them making disgusted sounds. 

“Okay okay stop!” 

“My eyes!” 

You giggled and playfully nibbled on Peter’s bottom lip as you pulled back. He smiled at you and nuzzled his nose against yours. If people weren’t sure where you and Peter stood, they most definitely were aware now. 

You managed to keep the act up for a little while around the party but it was May who blew your cover as you were both talking to Tony.

“We’ve got a bet on when you’ll get together and I think I just won. Steve owes me 10 bucks.” 

“Are you kidding me? They’ve been eating each other’s faces off for months.” 

“May!” Peter blushed heavily and glared at his aunt but it was nothing to how Tony was looking between the both of you.

“And you didn’t tell me?! Great now you owe me 20.” Tony sighed and put down his drink, shaking his head and you could tell he was holding back laughter.

“What? How?!” Peter exclaimed, wondering how he now owed money to a bet about himself that he wasn’t even a part of.

Permanent taglist: @spidey-reids-2003 ~ @tomhoran  ~ @rebekkah4766 ~ @unbelievableholland ~ @hollandcreep ~ @eeyore101247 ~ @localpeter ~ @tomhollandssecurityguard ~ @yeeyeeitsme12589 ~ @chaoticpete ~ @thinkoutsidethebex ~ @serenaparker96 ~ @halfblood-princess-505 ~ @marvels-blue-phoenix ~ @abrielleholland ~ @farfromtommy ~ @sunshine96love ~ @sleepyhollands ~ @definitely-not-black-cat ~ @sunflowerhollands ~ @phrogtheguitarist ~ @laney-g23 ~ @spidereader ~ @parker-holland-osterfield ~ @pastelpeter ~ @glowunderthemoon ~ @whitewolfandthefox ~ @unicorn-princess-1999 ~ @serendipitous-amor ~ @hazmyheart  ~ @averyfosterthoughts ~ @dorbiksbitch ~ @peterparkoure ~ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing ~ @overlydeluded ~ @dragonflyashes ~ @tutuabby28 ~ @kickingn-ames ~ @parkrpeter-blog ~ @maybemona ~ @unfortunateshelby ~ @un-limit-edd ~ @howdyherron ~ @destinyluvkrime ~ @matsumama ~ @galaxystern08 ~ @the-crazy-fanfictionist ~ @quaksonhehe ~ @wonder-spidey~ @whatthefuckimbisexual ~ @keithseabrook27 ~ @namoreno ~ @sovereignparker ~ @musicalkeys-blog ~ @joyleenl ~ @theamazingtomholland ~ @namoreno ~ @hollandsamor ~ @icyhollands ~ @miraclesoflove ~ @onceinalouie ~ @petersreactor ~ @call-me-baby-gir1 ~ @itstaskeen ~ @buckybigbutt ~ @madebyleftoversouls ~ @dummiesshort

[starkerforlife6969]

The person who opens the door is not Peter Parker.

Peter is the adorable, bumbling, and over-enthusiastic sweetheart in Tony’s Advanced Electronics class.

The person who opens the door is tall, unimpressed and blonde.

He smiles anyway, “Uh hi, I’m here for Peter-“

“So, you’re Tony Stark, huh?” The girl asks; her eyes looking him up and down scrutinisingly. Tony nods; his throat a little dry. “Flowers?” She leans forward, and she’s so tall- “Are those blue roses?”

Tony blushes as his voice breaks over the stuttered: “yes.” He barley manages to resist the urge to tack on a ‘ma’am’.

The girl, who must only be a few years older than him- a senior, maybe, beams suddenly. “Those are Peter’s favourites.” She says, and beckons the door for him to come in like he’s passed some sort of test.

He flushes, ducking his head. He knows that, of course. He’s not about to show up here for their first date with the wrong flowers. It’d taken a lot of coaxing for Peter to accept Tony’s invite. The boy was a blushing mess, sure that Tony could do better- but Tony had protested- there was no one better than Peter Parker.

“I’m Carol. Aeronautic’s senior.” She greets, leading Tony into a neat kitchen in the nicely sized, neat apartment. Peter had mentioned a roommate, but Tony certainly hadn’t expected-

“How do you know Peter?” He asks, casting his gaze around. There’s a sofa crammed with cushions and a tidy workspace and he can picture Peter sprawled across the couch or hunched over and studying there.

“We take ballet together. Would you like some water? Peter’ll be out in a few minutes. He’s deciding on what to wear.” She winks at him, but Tony can’t open his mouth to answer because what- Peter takes ballet? Just the mental image is enough to send his heart into overdrive. Does he wear a leotard? Tights? Oh god, could Tony come and watch-

“Tony?” Carol prods, an amused glint in her eyes, “water?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, please,” he nods, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Peter is so nervous, it’s so cut-“ comes a voice, before it cuts off, and Tony is greeted with a pretty, dark skinned girl with dark hair braided back. God, how many girls does Peter live with?”

“Tony, this is my girlfriend Valkyrie, Val, this the long anticipated Tony Stark.”

“Ah,” Valkyrie drawls, she glances once at the flowers, but isn’t nearly as impressed, as she strolls into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge. “Tony Stark, we’ve heard a lot about you. You know your little Vanessa stunt was hilarious.”

Tony winces, and Carol nudges her girlfriend warningly. “Val-“

“That was a mistake,” Tony blurts earnestly. Carol nods at him encouragingly, but Valkyrie glares a little. “Vanessa was- she didn’t- she came out of nowhere and kissed me I swear- I would never have-“ he can still see Peter’s face- the hurt in those big brown eyes-

“Don’t worry, Tony,” Carol reassures, “it was before you had asked Peter out-“

“So he can just flirt with as many people as he likes?” The shorter girl snaps, and Tony buries his miserable face in the flowers.

There’s silence for a moment, before Valkyrie sighs. “Sorry, you’re right- if Peter can forgive you- let’s start again.” She reaches out a hand, and Tony takes it gratefully. “I’m Val, I’m a senior, I take architectural engineering. You take math and engineering with Peter, right?”

Tony smiles, “uh- I take computer and technical engineering- we just share a few classes.”

“You’re a first year though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, how do you like it? MIT?”

Tony nods, thinking of his mother’s proud smile. “It’s good.”

Valkyrie smiles. “Great, well, now the small talk’s out the way, let’s talk intentions.”

“Val,” Carol warns, setting down Tony’s water.

He drains half the glass in one gulp.

“What? I just wanna know if Peter’s gonna be a fling or something more serious?”

Carol pauses, and looks at Tony curiously. “I’m a little curious about that too. Peter says you’re very popular-“

Tony shakes his head, sweat budding across his forehead, “no, I’m not- really-“

“You know he’s about the sweetest thing in the universe, right?” Valkyrie presses, “and that if he was hurt- I’d just have to do something about that.”

Carol nods. “We take karate in the evenings.”

Tony thinks he might faint and then-

“Tony! You’re here!” Comes an excited little chirp, and he turns on the seat to see Peter, in a pastel blue sweater and jeans that look painted on- “are those flowers?” He beams, and his face flushes all red, and Tony feels a swell of relief flood through his system.

“Yeah, for you, Petey,” he murmurs, and Peter takes them and looks delighted at the blue roses, tiptoeing to peck Tony’s cheek and immediately hurrying to get a vase.

“You didn’t have too! Oh, this is so sweet- did you meet Carol and Val?” He sets the vase down and pets one of the flowers. “You weren’t mean to him were you?” He asks them, and the two women shake their heads in unison.

“We were utterly delightful, weren’t we, Tony?” Val grins, with a few too many teeth.

Tony gulps. “Super nice.”

Peter giggles. “Great! Um, I got you something too, if you-“ and he’s holding out a little piece of felt and-

Tony looks down at the handmade friendship bracelet, and feels something tight in his throat. It’s a little ugly, a clash of rainbow colours and not quite even, and he’s never loved anything more.

“I made it, but it’s not very good,” Peter frowns, rubbing the back of his neck, “you don’t have to wear it, but I thought-“

“I love it.” Tony blurts, already fastening it next to his watch.

Peter rocks on his heels. “Really? Great! Should we go? I think the movie starts soon.”

Tony thinks he’d follow Peter anywhere. He nods, waving weakly at the two women who are looking at him with very knowing glints in their eyes.

“So,” he manages, once they’re out into the cool evening air and some of his courage has returned to him, and his fingers are threaded with Peter’s. Peter looks up at him with a beam and Tony grins: “you do ballet, huh?”

[sassyshoulderangel319]

A Springtime Hike

For one of my oldest Tumblr friends, @saviorsong​! Thank you for always being awesome, my friend!

Word count: 1,752 (it ran away with itself, lol XD)

Warnings: Kissing? Does that count?

The day was pleasant. Warm and light, but not too hot and not too bright. In fact, the light was dull and fuzzy, lending itself to painting the land in a dreamlike blur.

You and Thor were walking hand-and-hand down the path that led through the forest. You were fairly certain that this particular path was forged by deer over generations before humans took it over as a hiking trail.

The one good thing about quarantine was that “solitary outdoor exercise” (or whatever the governor called it) was still allowed. And Thor… well. His Asgardian immune system wouldn’t even accept the virus causing the outbreak. Some viruses weren’t cross-species compatible, and this was one of them. So you could walk with him all you wanted without worrying that either of you would infect the other.

“Okay,” you said after a few minutes of walking through the woods. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

Thor gave you a little smirk. One that had enough mischief to remind you that he did, in fact, grow up with an impish little brother who most definitely rubbed off on him. “You’ll see, love,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, his ocean blue meeting your hazel green with mirth. Thor would never do anything to hurt you—physically, mentally, or emotionally—but he did have a tendency to exasperate you with unexpected surprises. You liked his surprises but sometimes they were just over-the-top enough that it was too much.

The hike was nice. Invigorating and energizing but not exhausting. Just satisfyingly tiring enough to leave you feeling accomplished.

Another mile went by while birdsong and Thor’s excited chatter filled your ears. A cool breeze—apt for spring—blew through your chestnut curls.

Though you couldn’t help but feel like you were being followed. Just a slight inclination. Like the hairs on the back of your neck could not lie down. But every time you looked back to see who was following you, the path was empty. There weren’t even any deer or visible birds hopping on the branches of the trees.

“Something wrong?” Thor asked. His grip on your hand tightened slightly as he looked around. His axe was hiding under the car at the head of the hiking trail and could be summoned within moments, but he wasn’t reaching for it yet.

You made a face. “Not sure. Just feels like someone is following us.”

“Who would be doing that when all your mortal people have been instructed to stay inside?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just can’t shake the feeling.”

“Hm. Should we wait a moment to see if another hiker catches up with us?” Thor asked.

“No. Let’s just keep going,” you decided. “It’s probably nothing.”

Thor nodded, maintained his tighter grip on your hand, and continued pulling you down the path.

Until he pulled you off the path.

“Where are we going?” Your complaining tone was lost on Thor’s ears.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The two of you trekked up a slight slope, breaking twigs underfoot and scaring off any wildlife within earshot.

And still the feeling of being followed didn’t go away. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and get the hair to lie down but your instincts refused to relax. Another chill breeze made goosebumps sprout on your arms—though they quickly disappeared as Thor wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you to the warmth of his side.

His other arm reached up, across his body and covered your eyes.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was sharp but playful.

He chuckled. “Do you trust me?” He was teasing you, but also genuinely asking.

“Maybe. Should I?”

Another low chuckle deep in his chest vibrates against where your side is pressed to his. “I should hope that after six months of being together, you felt like you could,” he said.

You thought for a moment. “Sure,” you decided. “I trust you.”

A brief exhale of amusement out of his nose let you know he was smiling. He led you over the forest floor carefully, instructing you to step over fallen branches and large rocks, for a few minutes. No more than three.

Finally, he stopped. “Alright. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” you said.

Thor removed his hand from over your eyes.

Laid out before you was a clearing. Natural, by the looks of it. A meadow of wildflowers and wild grass extended in a twenty-foot diameter to the trees on the other side. It wasn’t perfectly circular, but the gap in the canopy of pine and leaves spotted the ground with that hazy sunlight that casted the whole day in a dreamy fuzz.

Nestled into the clearing is a picnic blanket. On top of which was a small table and two chairs. The table was draped in a pale green tablecloth, held down by the place settings.

Your mouth dropped open. “What is this?”

Thor took your hand and led you to the setup. He pulled out the chair for you and pushed it back in when you sat. Then he circled the table and took his own seat. “Well. I know how much you love the outdoors and how much you’ve disliked being stuck inside all the time. So I thought it’d be nice to have a little full service lunchtime picnic,” he said. “Speaking of full service…”

He clapped twice and looked back the way you came. You looked over too, curious of what he was on about.

Two dark figures dropped from the trees. Your friend Cassie and the small Spider child. Peter. Both were in black skinny jeans and T-shirts with tuxedo prints on the fronts. Cassie pulled white towels out of her back pockets and draped one on her arm, and one on Peter’s. They ducked behind the trees for a moment and approached the table. Cassie handed you a menu while Peter handed one to Thor.

“Good afternoon, we’ll be your personal servers today,” Cassie said professionally, fighting back a smile and losing the battle. “My name is Cassiopeia and this is… Peterolomew.” She snickered as Peter shot her a glare. “Can we start you off with something to drink?”

“Yes,” Thor put in before you could say anything. “We’ll both have the special.” He shot her a smug smirk. She nodded and she and Peter crossed to the other side of the clearing. They came back with wine.

After drinks were served, the two younger Avengers took your orders from the menus—you highly suspected they’d hidden coolers behind the trees, just out of sight—and disappeared with a brief goodbye of, “Signal when you’re ready for dessert.” You watched them step into the trees, duck out of sight, and then never reappear.

You looked back at Thor. “How long have you been planning this?”

He shrugged. “About a week. It was Cassie’s idea to have her and Peter play the servers.”

“Of course it was. Where’d they go?”

“Probably off to enjoy their time outside as well. They’ll come back when we call for them.”

You can’t help but laugh in mild exasperation. “Thank you for this. I really did need the outing. And… well. Any extra time I get to spend with you is time well-spent,” you said, winking at him. He beamed and reached across the table to take your hand. He picked it up and planted a quick kiss on your knuckles.

The wind brought the scent of spring trees. Pine and maple. The smell of the wildflowers dotting the clearing. It made the shadows of the leaves and branches dance on the green grass of the meadow.

The food was standard lunch stuff. Sandwiches, muffins, salads, simple stuff. But somehow just being out in the sun after so long of being shut inside made the food taste that much stronger. The flavors popped and your senses felt opened up. Like taking a decongestant after not being able to breathe from a cold.

Thor smiled across from you. His smile was bright and full of life. His eyes sparkled with amusement at just being with you and happiness at spending time together.

“What?” You couldn’t help but blush slightly at his unwavering eye contact.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just love you. And love being out here with you.”

You smiled. “I love you too. And I’m glad we can do this.”

He nodded. “Me too. We should do simple things like this more often.”

“We should,” you agreed, taking a bite of your food. It saturated your tastebuds and made your mouth water.

The two of you talked a little more while finishing your lunch—about the pandemic, about families, about the other Avengers, about the two younger Avengers lurking in the trees somewhere probably eavesdropping the nature of their relationship (just to mess with them if they were listening in), and about anything else you thought about.

After the main course was finished, you let out a shrill whistle to summon the servers. It took a moment, but Cassie and Peter reappeared. “You rang?” Cassie asked with a smile.

“We’re ready for dessert,” Thor said.

“Lovely. Take a moment to browse the menu for desserts and then let us know what you want.”

“Of course.”

After the two younger Avengers gave the two of you your dessert and disappeared again, Thor picked up his chair and brought it to the same side of the table as yours. He threaded his fingers into your hair and pressed his lips to yours. They were sticky and cold from his ice cream and you could taste the caramel as you kissed him back. His lips parted just enough to let his tongue touch your lips before retreating. Asking quietly if you’re okay deepening the kiss.

“Let’s scar Cassie and Petey for life,” you whispered playfully.

He chuckled and kissed you again, asking permission to deepen it. You let your own lips part just enough to let your own tongue through. Thor tilted his head for a better angle and rubbed his thumb over your cheek as the two of you deepened your kiss.

The wind picked up, sending your curls tumbling over your shoulders and around your heads, the ends flicking Thor’s cheeks. You felt him smile against your lips and scoot closer to wrap you up in his warmth.

“Was this a good lunch date?” he asked quietly.

You couldn’t help but smile. “The best.”

[lyssismagical]

the love you take is equal to the love you make

Whumptober Day Eleven - Stitches

(this is whumptober, but this is mostly fluff oops?)

Read on AO3

Quiet music plays through the speakers, a gentle instrumental lullaby as he watches his baby smile toothlessly, cheek smushed against the soft carpet.

Tony smiles, laying down across from him and resting a hand on his back to rub soothing circles into his bare, soft skin. It's tummy time, when of Tony's favorite times of the day and Peter, drooling over his own fingers, is having the time of his life on the carpet.

"Are you having fun, bug? Fingers yummy?" Tony murmurs watching Peter's big doe eyes slowly land on his face and he giggles into the carpet. "One of these days, you'll learn how to roll over and then you'll learn how to sit up and stand, and then you'll be graduating high school in the blink of an eye."

Peter just stares at him with the same confused intensity, drooling down his chubby arms.

"And then you'll never want to talk to your pops again, will you? You'll just go live your life and I'll only hear from you once every few weeks. Would you really do that to your wonderful dad? After I've let you drool all over my million-dollar carpet."

Peter's other hand hits the carpet, fingers finding purchase on the white fluff and pulling at it. Tony gently pries away his fingers.

"This is why you're not allowed a pet, baby. You're just going to rip all its fur out," Tony says, carefully cleaning off Peter's little fingers with a tissue. "Can I get the drool from your other hand too?"

It takes a few minutes to coax Peter's hand out of his mouth and wipe it down with the tissue before he cleans up the sides of Peter's mouth.

"Good kid. You hungry? Maybe you wanna go outside? Wanna take a stroll? I think the ice cream place down the street came out with some baby-safe ice cream. Don't wanna upset your little tummy."

Peter, obviously, doesn't answer. Just makes some indecipherable noises into the carpet and starts pulling at the fluff again.

Tony scoops his baby up into his arms, being careful to support his head, and presses a few kisses to the little tuft of hair growing at the top of his soft head, making Peter giggle.

"C'mon, my little bug, let’s get you changed and then we'll go have some fun. Maybe we'll even go down to the park and see if we can find any geese."

It takes nearly an hour to get down to the ice cream place down the street, always much too lenient in letting Peter have his way.

They get their ice cream and start their walk towards the park, hoping to see Peter's favorite animal, a goose.

Tony helps Peter suck on the ice cream, watching him make silly face at the cold temperature and make a mess all over his rosy cheeks and all the way up to his eyebrows.

"Look, buddy," Tony says, gently maneuvering Peter to let him see all the geese around the water. "Do you see them?"

He moves a little bit closer, knowing Peter’s baby eyes can't see as well as his can, trying to make his baby happy.

Peter smiles, one of his little fists hitting Tony's shoulder in his excitement.

"'Oose!" Peter shouts, the only word he can say. "Oose!"

"I know, bug. There's lots of goose." Tony knows it's geese, but he doesn't want to confuse Peter by saying it differently.

Peter's giggling, a bright happy noise leaving his smiling mouth, and it makes Tony smile too.

"Oose!" Peter shouts more insistently.

Tony makes his way closer, planning on heading for the bench to give his arms a break from holding his baby against his chest.

But they barely make it a few more feet before one of the geese dives for them.

Tony desperately lifts Peter higher into the air, worried about his little fingers getting into the goose's mouth, but he's not quick enough and then there's blood.

The goose must've gotten not only Peter, but Tony too because a flash of white-hot pain sears through Tony's left hand, the one curled around Peter's stomach.

Tony stumbles back a few steps, throwing their ice cream on the ground to distract the evil bird. As soon as the bird looks away, Tony books it back towards the tower, fear running his blood cold. Peter hasn't made any indication that he's hurt, but Tony can feel the warm blood against his arm, refusing to look down for fear of seeing all the blood coming out of his poor baby.

"I've got you. Just gotta get back to the tower and everything will be okay," Tony says, pressing a long kiss to Peter's forehead as he runs the rest of the way to the tower.

As soon as he pushes open the door, he's greeted by Carol, who's smile drops from her face when she sees their state.

"Oh my god. Come sit. Jeez," Carol says, quickly hustling them into a room and sitting them down on a couch. "I'll get a first aid kit."

It only takes her a few minutes to get back, but it's enough time for Peter to realize what's happened and he starts to cry, big tears falling down his rosy cheeks.

"'Oose," he says sadly, staring at his blood-drenched finger. Tony's happy to report that the majority of the blood seems to be coming from his own finger, not Peter's. "'Oosey."

"Is he saying goose?" Carol says, face set in anger as she opens the first aid kit beside them. "Because if my cat was the one to do this to you, I swear to god."

"No, it was an actual goose. Like a bird. They're evil, I swear," Tony says, gently holding out Peter's hand for Carol to clean it up.

"Oh my god," Carol says, failing to fight a smile. "You got attacked by a goose? Rhodey's going to lose his shit when he finds out."

Peter giggles tearfully at Carol’s smile, watching her carefully as she wraps his finger in white gauze and a thick white bandage. She presses a kiss to his wound.

“All better?”

He doesn’t seem to understand, but his tears have mostly stopped, leaving drying paths down his face. He’s got a confused smile on his face, but he’s pulling at his shirt with his uninjured hand, obviously uncomfortable in the bloodstains.

“Your turn,” Carol says, examining his finger. “I think you need stitches… You cool if I do them or would you prefer a trained doctor?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re more than capable of doing a couple stitches, your highness. Just get on with it. I think me and Petey deserve to take a nap.”

With a sigh, Carol begins, being extra, extra careful with both Tony’s finger and with how much movement she makes, not wanting to jostle Peter.

Tony keeps his forehead resting on top of Peter’s head, carefully breathing evenly through the pain as his finger is stitched back up. He thinks about his angel, the best child in the universe according to him, the smell of baby overpowering the smell of blood, his baby’s little giggles. Oh my god is he ever in deep. Tony would do anything for Peter. Absolutely anything, but that thought doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would.

“All done,” Carol finally says quietly. She quickly wraps Tony’s finger in the same gauze and bandage as Peter got before kissing Tony’s finger as well. “All better?”

Tony smiles against Peter’s head, tipping his head to the side to see his friend better. “Yeah, thank you. You’re the best.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?” Carol says, standing up from where she’d been kneeling. “And I mean ever do that again. If I have to stitch you up one more time-”

“I know, I know. I’ll be more careful. You coming for dinner tonight?” Tony carefully stands, making sure to balance most of Peter’s weight against his uninjured arm.

Carol gasps, hand to her heart. “You think I would ever miss family dinner? Yeah, no. Rhodey’s making his famous pretzels and I’m bringing Goose with me. At least that way Peter can play with one goose, even if it’s not the one he wants.”

“’oose!” Peter exclaims.

“Yeah, Goose, kiddo. Alright, you have fun, Tony. I’ll see you tonight,” Carol says. She kisses both of their foreheads before heading out the door.

*

After a dreamy bubble bath for Peter where, for once, Tony doesn’t end up drenched in water, they get changed back into pajamas and curl up in Tony’s bed.

“Nighty-night, my little bug,” Tony murmurs, kissing Peter’s forehead.

His baby giggles, a bright toothless smile, unreflective of the day’s events. “’addy!”

Tony smiles, blinking at the tears that threaten to fall out of the blue. “Yeah, baby. That’s me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being salty that your first word was goose, but daddy as your second is close enough.”

“’oose?” Peter says, yawning widely. His little fist wraps around Tony’s shirt, blinking blearily up at him.

“No, bug. No more gooses,” Tony murmurs, kissing Peter’s forehead again. “Night-night time.”

Peter yawns again, a slow blink turning into closed eyes when he doesn’t have the energy to reopen them.

“I love you, kid. You’re going to be the death of me.”

Peter just drools in response. Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

[brawltogethernow]

Three Graves

Peter gets cleaned up and settles his resolution to reach out to MJ before visiting Gwen. After all, you want to look your best for important people.

"'Cause you're worth it, Gwendy," he says, setting down a takeout cup of coffee the way she liked it against the base of her headstone and sinking to sit criss-crossed in front of it cradling his own. A weak shield against the New Year's cold.

It's been just warm enough just long enough to sweep the earth in the cemetery clean of the usual frozen-puddles-and-slush cocktail and uncover the winter-dormant grass. Just a reminder of the promise of the end of winter. But it's still not exactly picnic weather, so Peter's alone with the Stacy family.

"So I've been on kind of a jaunt," he says. "Helped me get my head in order. I know, I know, it's about time." He bows his head and shuts his eyes, and for a second he's one stone-still silhouette on the slight slope of hill with all the others.

Then he throws his head back and huffs, blinking up at the clear blue sky. "So I came to fill you in. I know you'd want to know."

He drags the heel of one hand across the corner of his eye. "After all, it's about you."

He puts his untouched coffee down too fast, then catches it with one spindly finger when it starts to overbalance and rights it. "I met these people, Gwen, and one of them... Let me start over. I've always been in this alone. Sorry, I shouldn't say things like that when I know you can't hit me. I know I had you. And the others. But this was -- this is different."

He takes a deep draft of the coffee. "Weirder, mostly."

_∩∩∩_

Gwen sits down in front of Peter's grave, folding into a tailor's seat in a graceful ballet movement.

"Hey," she says, and reaches out and knocks her knuckles against the headstone. A one-sided fist bump.

She folds the arm back against herself, tugging her hoodie sleeves over her hands, and sits there silently for a while, curled up in a hunch. The world is statue-hard and all-over glittery with frost, and steam curls up when she exhales. She's wearing most of her suit underneath exercise clothes, and the cold seems to bite harder where its insulation doesn't cover her at her face and hands.

She's out of practice talking to people, and Peter was always the one who would say something to get the conversation going anyway.

"I have had a week," she says at last. "You'd have liked it." She thinks of the older Peter, scowling and looking exasperated. "Okay, maybe you'd have hated it."

She sighs and touches the stone again, pressing her hand flat against it. It hurts, the rock hungrily leeching the warmth out of her body.

"I'm trying the whole friend thing again," she says. "I don't know what you would have -- I know neither of us ever really liked people, so maybe you wouldn't think I should. But you also seemed better at knowing what was best for me than what you needed for yourself, so maybe you would have thought it was a good idea. Because I'm pretty sure this is -- best. For me. That is." She snorts. "I was better at you than me, too."

She pulls her hand back and rubs it against her knee, trying to force warmth back into it. With her augmented metabolism, her whitened fingers flush hot again faster than they should. "I definitely still prefer problems you can solve with hitting something. Or by breaking and entering. ...That doesn't mean it's obvious I was going to have to let people in eventually, though! I was completely planning to never address my own feelings again. So take that." She points at Peter's name, taps it lightly between the R and the second P with her fingertip, then pulls her arm close again, hugging it to herself. She sighs. "Maybe you'd think I was dumb for taking this long. I dunno. But Peter, the friend I made? I know you would have liked him. Whether you wanted to or not."

_∩∩∩_

Footsteps appear in the deep slush in front of Peter Parker's headstone. After a moment, an eye-baffling haze above them shivers and resolves into a boy in a hoodie.

Miles hunches into his civvies against the cold and looks around, head sweeping back and forth. Once he's sure he's alone, he tips his face down to face the grave. He stands there a moment, neck bent, hands in his jacket pockets.

The tokens people left that he recognizes from the last time he was here are starting to look kind of battered and sad, but most of them have been cleared out and replaced by a crop of new ones. It's a mosaic of red and blue and webs, because even if it didn't occur to most of them until it was too late to say it, New York loved Spider-Man.

"Hey," Miles says. "I'm back."

He shifts his feet a little to try to get cold water to stop seeping into his shoes. This agitates some stealthy puddle and soaks them worse.

"Man," he says to the headstone. "I cannot stop myself from looking around when I try using my spidey sense to check for people on purpose. I mean, with my eyes." He tugs his hands out of his pockets to raise them up to his face and demonstrates with wiggly finger motions, one hand in front of his eyeballs and one beside his head. "Did you get that? I know I don't need to, but I just can't shake it. I mean -- yet. I can't shake it yet. This whole Spider-Man thing is kind of a process."

There were a few inches of white fluffy snow the other day, so within hours it was like a massive slushee had been upended in every shallow dip or half-protected corner in the city. With all the foot traffic this place gets, the ground here is like half-frozen mud soup.

"But you know that."

He holds out one hand, staring at the palm of his glove for inspiration. "So hey, uh. I know I was kind of weird when I was here last time?" He puts the hand on the back of his neck, eyes peeling upward sheepishly. "I recognize now that coming here in a party store version of your costume was a little weird. Nobody ever saw my face, though! So I guess it worked out like I wanted it to?"

A big shrug, hands windmilling. "You know, except the other Spiders. I figure that's okay, though. Man, I wish you could have met them."

His shoulders slump, and he feels his eyes prickling. He huffs a fortifying breath, fast in and out. "But anyway. You know how I said I didn't think I could do this last time? It totally worked out. I'm Spider-Man now. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't mind. ...It turns out there are a lot of us.

“And Peter -- the other one, I mean. I mean, one of the other ones. He taught me some things, and-- I wish I'd gotten to learn more from you, but he was okay." He shifts his weight. Even more ice water floods into his shoes. "He was great actually. I don't need to pretend not to like him as much as I do when he's not even here. I...really hope I get to see him again someday. ...I don't know if you would have turned out like him, but -- it would have been okay if you did. You would have been okay, I mean."

The grave is silent. Somewhere nearby there’s the sound of snowmelt dripping.

"We took care of the collider!" says Miles. "Brooklyn did not get eaten by a black hole. ...Mm, mostly. Some of it still looks kinda weird. Though, now I know you're from Queens, so technically we're feuding a little and you should watch yourself." He goes for a chuckle, but it comes out kind of wet.

"And the--" He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is less froggy. "And Kingpin is in FBI custody. And everybody else who helped him is too, or. Gone." Uncle Aaron. "...Dead." He hasn't visited Uncle Aaron's grave alone yet, but he's okay working on the mural for now.

He raises his head, blinking hard. "I wish--" His voice cuts off and he looks down, and when he looks up again his eyes aren't as tear-bright.

"Thank you, Peter."

_∩∩∩_

Peter hears her heels before anything else, click click, and then MJ is a warm weight settling against him.

"I thought you'd be here," she says.

"Am I that obvious?"

She elbows him without looking over. "No, I just know you." She reaches out and traces a finger over Gwen's name. "Hiya, Gwendy. Did Petey-o tell you his crazy story yet? Make sure he doesn't leave out the part where his alternate self was a successful blond. I guess you really do have more fun."

"Hey," says Peter, with automatic faux offense. Mary Jane's bundled up in a big ochre parka over a bunch of sweaters. He thinks about how his Mary Jane owns the same smart, lush ensemble the other MJ gave her press conference in, folded up in different parts of her closet.

"He wasn't successful," Peter says. "I'm just old."

"Are you calling me old?" MJ says.

"If the shoe fits," says Peter.

MJ whaps him on the arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," says Peter, laughing. "No, no, you're a whole year younger than me. Clearly you walk in eternal youth."

MJ settles against him again. "Nah, it's okay," she says. "We're both old. Geriatric."

"What does that make Jonah?" asks Peter. "Commander of the skeleton war?"

"Mister Parker, was that a meme?" asks MJ, faux-scandalized. "Don't make me kids-these-days at you."

"What does that even mean?"

"I'd shake my cane and accuse you of eating too many avocados."

"Ugh, I feel like that's a meme," says Peter. "But I don't understand it."

"Do you not read the news?"

"The news only ever wants to yell about how terrible I am at me."

"When you extricated yourself from all our shared newspaper subscriptions -- you didn't replace them with any new ones, did you. You've basically been living in a box."

"Uh."

"I shouldn't have asked you to do that," she says. "I'm buying you an online Times account if you won't log back into mine." She turns to the grave. "We're a mess without you, as you can see," she tells it.

"Always," says Peter. "But we're doing alright."

They sit there silently for a minute, leaning on each other.

MJ reaches out and lifts up Gwen's cup. "I'm stealing some of your coffee, doll. Not like you don't still owe me a thousand sips of mine." She takes a draft, the liquid cooled from being on the ground, then makes a face. "I forgot she liked mint."

"I think she might have started liking it as a preemptive defense against you paying her back for always stealing from yours."

"Get her caramel next time. We both like caramel."

_∩∩∩_

Gwen hears footsteps crunching the grass behind her and twists around, rising into a crouch in a fluid spin.

It's Mary Jane, huddled in a huge yellow coat. She's wearing her chunky-knit fingerless gloves, the oatmeal ones, and boots over leggings, like she's daring the cold to even try it.

"Thought you'd be here," she says, closing the rest of the distance so she's beside Gwen as Gwen straightens the rest of the way. At Gwen's surprised incredulous look, the other girl snorts. "What, you think I don't know you that well yet? We're friends, aren't we?"

"...Yeah," says Gwen, fighting not to look like that's as much of a revelation as it is.

MJ hooks an arm with Gwen's, beaming showily, pleased with this victory. "Well, your little friend here is more observant than you give her credit for." She reaches out and boops Gwen on the nose. Gwen jumps, even though her spider sense warned her. It tickles.

MJ turns to face Peter's grave, and the grin slides off her face. The look it leaves behind is -- oddly muted. MJ is a very loud person, in Gwen's experience of her. About everything, all the time. Her outfit choices are loud. Her silent facial expressions are loud. Her singing is really loud, like she's got some stuff to work out. Sometimes their practices feel like MJ and Gwen are just fighting to drown each other out. They feel dangerous, like if one of them ever can't keep escalating, the other's sound will sweep her away. And then the other girls have to roar along to keep up.

Their recordings end up pretty noisy.

"I think I'd have liked to have met him," MJ says, very softly. There's nothing particular in the statement, and Gwen is suddenly aware she has no idea how to read MJ when she's not telegraphing her emotions at top volume and full saturation for the benefit all of New York.

Gwen thinks about four Peters, two married to Mary Janes. "Yeah, probably," she allows.

MJ sighs and reaches out the arm not linked with Gwen's. She rests her hand on the top of Peter's headstone, making a chain of three links. Gwen, MJ, grave.

"Hi, Peter," says MJ, her always bell-like voice chiming more mellifluously than ever. Like she's trying to charm someone new. "Thanks for taking care of this girl when I couldn't, yeah?"

Then she takes her hand away, breaking the spell, and starts to tug Gwen away by their linked arms. Gwen lets the taller girl pull her away. It would be pretty suspicious for her to stay as still as she could, even if part of her just wants to anchor herself here like a statue until sunset. Be still with him for a while.

"Come on, hun," says MJ. "That's enough gabbing with the dead. Let's gather the other girls: We can have breakfast before practice."

Gwen stumbles as they hit the path. "Wait, there's practice today? It's Thursday?"

MJ stares at her as she pauses to give Gwen a chance to get upright. "It's Tuesday practice, Gwen. Man, you're bad with dates, aren't you?"

"Hey, I've been --" Stuck in another dimension, time traveling. "Busy with stuff."

MJ quirks one eyebrow at her, the twinkle in her eyes and the press of her half-smile telegraphing 'are you serious?' at Gwen so clearly that for a split second Gwen is sure MJ knows.

But Mary Jane just rolls her eyes and tugs Gwen along more insistently.

"Breakfast sounds nice," Gwen allows.

"Are you plotting to steal from my coffee again?"

Gwen hums noncommittally.

"Gw-e-n!" MJ protests. "I will buy you your own coffee! I do not understand why you're always on the hunt for sips of mine!"

"Stolen food just tastes better," says Gwen. "It's science."

"You're a menace, Gwen-do-lyn," says MJ. "I know your secret identity--"

Gwen jumps.

"--as a filthy coffee thief."

"C-caught me," stutters Gwen.

"Yeah I did," says MJ quietly.

"What?"

"Hm, nothing."

And Gwen lets Mary Jane pull her out of the graveyard and out toward their friends.

_∩∩∩_

Miles' spidey sense tells him someone's behind him before he hears them, and he spins around, part of him half expecting a repeat of last time he got crept up on here.

Close, but wrong Parker. It's May, picking her way carefully through the frozen slush. She looks up only after he's flinched his hands up defensively and then dropped them again.

"Oh, Miles!" she says. "I wasn't expecting you here."

She stops once she's beside him, and sighs. "I just thought, now that the crowds have mostly thinned out, it would be a good time to talk to him. Guess we both had the same idea, huh?" She looks around like she doesn't quite want to look at her nephew's grave, the twists of her head stopping when she's facing the church. "This place is so famous. It's so strange that Peter is buried here."

She finally looks down at the bedecked headstone. "I always thought me and him and Ben would all end up in the same place. But, well, Jonah was crying and -- I think it makes people feel better."

Miles remembers something Peter -- janky, old Peter -- said. "Are you guys Jewish too?"

May looks at him strangely, but must not need to ask who 'too' refers to, because she just flickers a quick shrug. "Ben was. I thought about converting when we got married, but his family was never that traditional, so I never got around to it. But that doesn't mean it wasn't important to them."

Miles reaches out and raps his fingers extra lightly on a Roman cross cropping up from the top of a headstone. He then immediately feels bad, and pats it gingerly as he says, "Then this must be extra weird."

May smiles.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, thin but strong. "He'd be proud, you know."

"Yeah." Miles gives the marker one last nod as he turns to go. "I know."

*

[AO3]

[marvelous-writer]

A Scare in the Stark Household

Summary: 

Tony fell at Peter’s side, feeling his heart hammering away in his chest with adrenaline as he looked down at the kid, who was staring blankly up at the sky, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Fear shot through Tony when he saw that the kid’s face was an angry red and beginning to swell up. 

“Peter! Peter!” He shook the kid’s shoulders but the only response he got was a choked wheeze. “Kid what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Tony pleaded, carefully holding the teen’s face in his hands. 

Peter’s eyes slid over and met his and Tony felt his blood run cold when he saw the pure terror in the teen’s eyes.  

Link to read on Ao3

It’s been exactly one month since Thanos’s defeat, so Tony and Pepper decide to throw a lunch at their home to celebrate. Since Peter is already staying for the summer with May traveling for work, he pitches in and helps them set everything up, which included tagging along with Tony to the grocery store to get everything they needed. 

After a whole month of healing and physical therapy, the man’s arm was on the mend but he had to wear a sling in the meantime just like Dr. Banner’s. It was a miracle that he didn’t lose his arm when he wielded the infinity gauntlet. No one knew to this day how Tony managed to pull it off. But they were immensely grateful for it. 

Peter’s eyes skimmed over the page of the book he was reading, which just so happened to be one that MJ recommended and let him borrow. He started reading it a few days ago and now he can’t seem to put it down, even staying up well past one thirty in the morning to read a few more chapters. 

Lately, he’s been finding himself wanting to explore some of MJ’s interests and get to know her better. Over the past few weeks with hanging out with her and Ned, Peter’s discovered that maybe... he wanted to be more than just friends with her. She was smart, beautiful, funny, and she was wise beyond her years. But she could be terrifying all at the same time. She was always giving him calculating looks almost as if she was on to him with him being Spider-Man. Maybe she already knew and she just wasn’t admitting it?

“Peter! Come on down, everyone’s here!” Tony called up from downstairs. 

“Coming!” Peter half-yelled, quickly reading the last of the page he was on before shoving his bookmark in, closing the book. 

He dropped his book onto the bed before stretching his legs out with a yawn, feeling the tension leave his body. He laid there for a moment, hearing the faint sounds of people talking from outside, along with footsteps on the front porch. 

Peter swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up before walking out of his room and down the hallway towards the stairs. Making his way down the stairs, Peter sees Dr. Banner crouching down a bit to be able to walk in the house, his green face set in a small grimace when he hits his head on the doorframe. 

“Ah, there’s the webbed-wonder.” Sam said with a teasing smirk, standing next to Steve and Bucky. 

Peter grins at him as he walks over. “Hey, Bird Brain.” He teases. 

“How’ve you been, Pete?” Steve asks him, ignoring their usual banter. 

“Okay I guess. How about you?” 

“Pretty good all things considered.” Steve answered with a sad smile. 

The team was mourning from the loss of Black Widow. Peter didn’t know what happened to her because no one talked about it. Tony wouldn’t even tell him about it. So it must’ve been bad. 

They had a small memorial service a few weeks back for Natasha, but only the team went because she hadn’t had any living family members. The team had been her family. 

Peter met her back in Germany a year and a half ago but he didn’t really get to speak with her given their situation with taking down Cap and the rogue Avengers. But Natasha had seemed nice enough and welcomed him to their little team. 

They all talked for a while before Pepper announced that lunch was ready and waiting at the table. 

“Peter, can you get Morgan please? She’s playing outside in her tent.” Pepper asked, carrying a few plates over to the table. 

Peter nodded with a smile. “Sure.” 

Walking over to the door, he pushed the screen door open and walked across the front porch and down the stairs. It was hot outside, a little too hot for his t-shirt and shorts. The grass was warm between his toes as he walked across the yard, his eyes set on the small blue and pink tent that was settled in between the trees. 

“Morgie?” Peter called in a bit of a sing-song voice, stopping at the tent. “It’s lunchtime.” 

Peter bent down by the zipped up door, smiling to himself when he could hear the five year old making noises along with the sound of plastic hitting against plastic as she played with her toys. “Miss Morgan? You wanna come in for lunch? The teams’ here now and waiting inside.” 

The noises stopped and he could hear the blankets inside the tent shifting around. 

“What’s the password?” The five year old asked. 

“Waffles.” He guessed, earning a giggle from her. 

“No!”

“Cookies?” 

“N-No!” She giggled more. 

Peter leaned back on his heels, humming in thought. “Is it… Spider-Man?” He asked, raising his voice excitedly at the end.  

He must’ve been right because not even a second later the tent was being zipped open. Morgan appeared, her bright smile lighting up her little face. 

“How’d you know?” 

Peter shrugged, smiling at her. “Eh, just a lucky guess. I know how much you love me.” 

Morgan nodded with a giggle as she crawled out of her tent. Peter stood up before he bent down and picked her up in his arms. 

“Can we have cookies?” She asked as they headed back to the house. 

Peter raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “Cookies for lunch? Hmm… I don’t know. But I do know that your mom made some yummy sandwiches.”

“I want cookies though.” Morgan pouted. 

“Maybe for dessert, okay?” 

“Okay.” She disappointedly agreed. 

He was a bit surprised that she didn’t put up more of a fight, so she must be having a good day today. There were some days when she was more stubborn on things than others. 

“Can we have juice pops?” Morgan asked after a moment with hopeful eyes. 

Peter rolled his eyes half-heartedly with a sigh. “Alright, fine but just one and you can have it after lunch. It’ll be our secret. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Morgan nodded with a toothy smile. 

Peter put Morgan down once they were on the porch and she ran over to the screen door and waited for him to open it before running inside excitedly when she saw everyone standing around in the living room. She went around to everyone and greeted them before Tony called her over to the table to eat. 

Peter walked over to the table as well and took a seat next to Tony, reaching over and grabbing himself two peanut butter sandwiches. Morgan kneeled on her chair and reached across the table and picked one up as well. 

“Nu-uh. Honey, you can’t have that one.” Tony interjects, quickly taking the sandwich from her hand. 

“Why?” She asks, brows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Because it’s peanut butter and you’re allergic to peanuts. If you eat it you can get very sick and we don’t want that.” He explains to her before sliding over a separate plate with a sandwich on it. “So that’s why I made you a very special sandwich with turkey and cheese.” 

He just leaves out the lettuce and cucumber that he snuck in there because of how picky of an eater she was when it came to vegetables. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” She smiled as she picked up her sandwich and took a bit bite out of it. 

Tony let out a relieved breath and sat back, giving Peter a knowing look, who returns it with a small shrug. They all eat and talk, Rhodey telling Tony about one of his recent missions overseas while Sam and Bucky bicker in the living room about something they did on a recent Avengers mission. Peter was too busy listening to Rhodey’s story to get all of the details. 

Once lunch was over, the team went outside to sit on the porch with glasses of iced tea while Peter stayed inside and helped Pepper clean up. 

“So I heard May and Happy are having a good time in California.” She says at the sink as she scrubs a plate with the soapy sponge. 

“Hm, really? That’s… good.” Peter absentmindedly says. 

Happy had offered to go with May on her business trip and Tony had even flown them in his private jet. It’s been a little over a few weeks since he found out that Happy and May were dating and to be honest… he didn’t know how to feel about it. Happy was a great guy and Peter knew him pretty well but… it was just different. How and when did they even start dating? Maybe it was all of those times Happy came to pick Peter up for his ‘Stark internship’ that he was able to talk to May and get to know her. 

“How do you feel about it? May and Happy, I mean.” Pepper asks as she hands him another dish to dry. 

Peter shrugged, wincing when his shirt rubbed against his skin awkwardly. He reached up and itched at his neck with his free hand. “Okay I guess. She’s… she’s happy so that’s what matters.” 

“But are you happy?” 

Peter thought about it for a moment as he tried the dish with the hand towel. “Yeah. Happy’s cool and I know he cares a lot about her.” 

“He does and he cares a lot about you too.”

“I know.” Peter nodded, placing the plate on the counter on top of the others. 

He picked up the stack of plates and walked over to the cabinet and put them inside before closing the door. 

“How about you go play with Morgan? I think she’s outside.” Pepper suggested as she dried her hands with a hand towel. 

“Sure.” Peter nodded, heading over to the screen door. “See you later!” He called over his shoulder. 

Stepping out onto the porch, Peter walked past the team before making his way down the steps, seeing Morgan blowing bubbles in the front yard, a small purple bottle in her hand. 

“Petey! Do you wanna blow some bubbles with me?” She asked with a smile when she was him walking over. 

Peter smiled in return, scratching at spot on his chest. “Sure.” 

That kept her busy for probably twenty minutes before she got bored with it, wanting to do something else. During those twenty minutes, Peter couldn’t seem to stop scratching himself. His chest was just so itchy. 

“Hey, Morg? I’m going to run inside for a second, alright? Keep blowing bubbles until I get back.” 

“Okay!” She smiled as she picked up her little purple bottle once again, dunking the stick in a few times. 

Peter turned around and walked back towards the house, frowning as he reached up and rubbed a hand over his chest from a particularly bad itch. 

What the heck is going on with me? He wondered as he climbed the steps, walking towards the screen door. 

Everyone was still talking, Tony laughing at something with Pepper sitting beside him as Peter went inside the house. He headed to the downstairs bathroom and closed the door behind himself before he pulled his shirt off. Looking at himself in the mirror, he almost had to do a double take when he saw all of the red patches on his chest. 

Peter’s brows pulled together as he studied his reflection, spinning around slowly, seeing that his chest, sides and his entire back were covered in them. They were hives. He’s had them once before when he was around ten years old after he took some medicine when he was sick. He couldn’t remember what type of medicine it was or why he needed it but he remembered May inspecting his back when she found out, saying that it was hives. After a check up with his doctor, it was discovered that he was allergic to whatever medication it had been.

But why did he have them this time? He felt fine, just itchy.

Maybe it’s seasonal allergies? He thinks as he prods one of the particularly red and swollen spots, wincing. 

He lets his hands fall at his sides as he stares at himself in the mirror, silently debating on telling Tony about this. But everyone was around and the last thing he wanted was to look like a baby in front of the team. This wasn’t lifethreatning like a stab wound, so he was fine, just a little itchy. 

Making up his mind, Peter slipped his shirt back on, trying to ignore the fabric rubbing against his irritated skin. After washing and drying his hands, he opens the bathroom door and walks back out into the kitchen area before making his way towards the front door. The team is still sitting around on the deck chairs chatting when he steps out on the porch. Peter rubs at his chest again, face twisting in discomfort even though he tries to hide it. 

“You alright, Pete?” Tony asks, making him snap his head around.

Tony was looking at him with a concerned expression. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Peter lies with a smile before turning back around, heading towards the stairs. 

He looks over at the team as he walks around the porch before his eyes fall on Morgan, who seems to have moved on from bubbles to playing by her tent with her toys. Peter walks over to her, smiling. 

“Whatcha doing, M?” He asks her, sitting down next to her in the mulch. 

“We’re planning a tea party.” She proudly says, looking up at him. 

She has a few of her smaller stuffed animals with her, probably from her bringing them outside to her tent. 

“Ah.” He says, fearing that she would force him to dress up in some of Peppers fancy hats, gloves and jewelry. Again. “Do you want to play hide and seek now?” He offers, hoping that she would want to do that instead. 

“Yeah!” Morgan excitedly yells, holding her hands up in the air. “I get to hide first!” 

He lets out a relieved breath and nods gratefully. “Sure. I’ll count to ten, okay?” He says, raising his hands to his face. 

“Okay.” She giggles, standing up from the ground. “But no peeking!” 

“I promise. No peeking.” Peter covers his eyes with hands, smiling. “One��� two…” He starts, hearing small footsteps scurrying away from him. 

Come to find out, Morgan was pretty good at hiding. He’s found her twice now, once time hiding in the shed and the other time hiding under the overturned canoe by the dock, which weren’t that bad of hiding places. It was now his time to hide and he had just the place in mind. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t feeling that great at the moment. 

Peter huffed out a breath, clearing his throat for probably the fifth time in two minutes. His throat was feeling scratchy and his chest had started to hurt a little while ago, along with the slight ache in his stomach. It wasn’t unbearable, just a little uncomfortable enough to make him want to give up and let Morgan find him so he could go back inside and lie down in bed. Maybe he just needed something to drink.

Peter stood up from his hiding spot behind one of the bushes in the yard and had to blink away the fuzziness from his eyes. Maybe he was a little dehydrated? Frowning, he began to walk back towards the house, clearing his throat again. It felt like something was lodged in there and he couldn’t get it out. He went to take in a breath, only to find that he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

His eyes widened at the sudden realization. All in a split second, fear shot through him as his mind raced for an answer as to why this was happening. One thing he knew was that he needed Tony. He needed help. 

Peter took a few fast steps in the direction of the house, the front porch in his sight before it began to blur. He stopped and tried to cough to clear his airways to no avail. 

“Petey, you’re supposed to be hiding!” Morgan’s voice came from somewhere at his side. 

Peter turned his head, finding the five year old’s fuzzy figure standing a few feet away from him. Peter tightly closed his eyes as he bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to suck in a breath that only came out as a choking wheeze. 

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I need Tony. 

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself blinking up at the blue sky, a few pine trees in the corner of his vision. His hearing faded in and out when he realized he heard screaming. 

“Mommy! Daddy!”

That was Morgan doing all the screaming. Pain seared through his chest, causing him to tightly close his eyes as he tried to suck in air through his mouth. But he couldn’t get any air… he was suffocating. 

“-eter! -ter!” Another familiar voice was yelling near him. 

He felt hands on his arms, feeling a hand go to the side of his face as he forced his eyes open, only to see Tony’s blurry face in his view. 

“Kid what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Tony panicky asked, kneeling at his side. 

Peter wanted to tell him… but he couldn’t. His throat felt like it was completely clogged up and it hurt. It really really hurt. His head felt floaty, like it was being disconnected from his body as black spots danced around in his vision. 

…

“Mommy! Daddy!” Morgan screamed at the top of her lungs. 

Tony and Pepper exchanged a startled, fearful look with each other before jumping up from their seats, the team doing the same. They both ran down the stairs and looked in the direction of Morgan’s crying, Tony’s eyes falling on a figure that was sprawled out on the ground. 

Peter. 

Tony ran ahead with Pepper tailing right behind him. “Pep you make sure she’s okay while I check on Peter.” He called over his shoulder. 

Tony fell at Peter’s side, feeling his heart hammering away in his chest with adrenaline as he looked down at the kid, who was staring blankly up at the sky, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Fear shot through Tony when he saw that the kid’s face was an angry red and beginning to swell up. 

“Peter! Peter!” He shook the kid’s shoulders but the only response he got was a choked wheeze. “Kid what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Tony pleaded, carefully holding the teen’s face in his hands. 

Peter’s eyes slid over and met his and Tony felt his blood run cold when he saw the pure terror in the teen’s eyes.  

“Bruce!” He screamed over his shoulder, seeing the large green scientist already running over to him with Steve, Bucky and Sam behind him.

The scientist kneeled down on Peter’s other side, his eyes quickly scanning over the teen’s too-pale face, a fearful look washing over his green face. Tears were streaming down Peter’s cheeks now as he continued to try to suck in air. 

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with him?” Tony frantically asked, eyes darting between the scientist and Peter. 

“It looks like anaphylaxis shock. We need to give him epinephrine now before he loses consciousness. Do you have any Epipens?” 

“Pepper has a couple in the downstairs cabinet right next to the sink.” 

Steve and Bucky took off in the direction of the house, running right past Pepper, who was standing a couple hundred feet away with Morgan in her arms. Pepper’s eyes were wide and fearful, mirroring Tony’s. 

“Peter, it’s alright. You’re going to be just fine, okay? Just hang in there.” Bruce told the teen in the most comforting tone he could at the moment. “Tony, is his neck swelled up?” 

Tony slid his hands to Peter’s neck and immediately he could feel that the area was bulged out, feeling the faint rapidly beating pulse. 

“Yes.” He quickly answered. 

Before the scientist could answer, Steve came running back over to them, panting slightly with four injectors in his hands. 

“Alright, Sam, Steve. We’re going to have to give him all four of these with his metabolism. You need to jam two of them into his left thigh and Steve you do his other one. Hold them there for three seconds and then you’ll hear a click, then count to three seconds.” Bruce quickly spoke. 

Sam nodded and took two of the injectors from Steve. Tony hated himself at the moment with his injured arm, immobilizing him from doing anything. 

“Blue to the sky. Orange to the thigh.” Bruce told them as they took the blue cap off of the end of the injectors.  

Sam and Steve held both of their arms over Peter’s thighs, both nodding to each other before they swung their arms down, the injectors clicking once they were jammed into both of the kid’s thighs.

Peter tightly closed his eyes, more tears escaping and sliding down his cheeks as Tony ran his shaking hand through his sweaty hair, trying to comfort him as best as he could. Seconds passed by before Peter managed to suck some air into his mouth and Tony winced at the sound. 

“That’s it, nice and easy, Peter. Nice and easy breaths.” Bruce instructed. 

Peter’s chest rose and fell quickly with each breath and he tightly closed his teary eyes. After a few more moments, the swelling around his neck and face began to go down, allowing him to breathe a little easier.  

Peter opened his eyes again, meeting Tony’s. “T’ny…” He raspily mumbled. 

“Shh. I’m right here, bud. You’re okay. Just keep trying to breathe, okay?” Tony softly told him, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice as he brushed some of the kid’s sweaty hair out of his face. 

“We need to get him to a hospital. There’s no telling if he’ll go into shock again.” Bruce spoke in a serious tone. 

Tony nodded. “Right. Dr. Cho’s in the city this weekend. I can have her meet us at St. Gabriel’s Hospital. That’s about ten minutes away from here.” 

“I’ll get the car started.” Sam quickly offered. 

Steve threw him a set of car keys before he took off at a sprint to the driveway where all of their cars were parked. 

“I’ll meet you guys there. Just keep him elevated and make sure he’s breathing.” Bruce ordered as Steve came forward and bent down, carefully picking Peter up from the ground and into his arms in a bridal carry, the kid’s head limply rolling against his chest. 

“Got it.” Tony nodded, pushing himself up from the ground before jogging to catch up to the soldier. He stopped at Pepper’s side, meeting her wide eyes before looking down at Morgan, who was hiding her face in Pepper’s neck. 

“Hey, Morgan, honey. Daddy’s just going to go for a little ride with Peter, okay?” Tony told her. 

The five year old sniffed before turning her head in his direction, her fear filled eyes meeting his. “I-Is P-Petey okay?” 

“Yeah, Petey’s fine, honey.” He lied, forcing a small, tight smile on his face. “I’ll be back home in a little bit, okay?” 

She silently nodded into Pepper’s chest, seeming to believe the lie. He hated himself for it but the last thing he wanted to do was traumatized his five year old daughter, more so than she already was. 

“We’ll drive up with Bruce. Take care of him, Tony.” Pepper told him. 

Tony wordlessly nodded, letting out a shaky breath before he turned away from them and jogged over to the driveway, where Steve and Sam were loading Peter up into the backseat. 

“Tony!” A voice called, causing him to turn his head, seeing Clint running over to him from the front porch, holding a red and blue blanket in his hands. “Here. In case he needs this.” The archer told him, handing him the fabric. 

Tony nodded in thanks before he made it to the car, quickly getting in the backseat with Peter. Steve positioned him so he was leaning against Tony’s chest, propped up enough so he could breathe. 

“T’ony…” Peter hoarsely whispered, sounding scared. 

Tony rubbed his hand along his arm reassuringly. “I’m right here, kiddo. You’re alright.” 

Peter’s head fell to his chest as he sucked in a wheezy breath, still seeming to have a hard time breathing. 

“Step on it, Sam.” Steve ordered from the passenger side. 

“You got it, Cap.” Sam replied before the car rumbled as Sam quickly backed out of the gravel driveway before the car lurched when he shifted gears to drive, taking off up the road at a speed that would give them one hell of a speeding ticket if a cop pulled them over. 

It takes them less than five minutes to reach the hospital where an emergency medical stall is already waiting for them at the ER doors, all thanks to FRIDAY calling ahead, along with calling Dr. Cho to have her meet them there. The team of nurses take Peter from Tony and place him on a stretcher before wheeling him through the automatic double doors. 

Tony followed behind them, the kid’s blanket in hand, with Steve and Sam behind him before a doctor stopped him, saying something on the lines of them ‘needing the room to work.’ Tony ignores him and pushes the man’s arm away from him as he goes into the room Peter was wheeled in, seeing that a nurse was beginning to work on helping Peter out of his t-shirt, probably so she could administer an IV. 

Once the kid’s shirt was off and the IV was administered, the nurses were beginning to run tests on Peter. As they did that, Tony was allowed to sit at the side of the bed, still holding the blanket in his hands. At some point, Dr. Cho arrives and she gets to work, administering the right amount of epinephrine, antihistamines, cortisone, albuterol, and oxygen that suit the kid’s enhanced metabolism. 

By the time they’re finished, Peter is sound asleep on the hospital bed with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He’s still as white as the sheets he’s lying on but he’s breathing. 

Tony stands up and drapes the blanket over the kid’s shirtless, shivering form. He raises a hand to Peter’s head and cups the side of his face, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, letting out a relieved breath. Tony closes his eyes and leans down, gently resting his head on Peter’s, inhaling the scent of sweat and vanilla shampoo. Tony lifts his head and places a kiss on Peter’s forehead before standing back, taking a seat again at the side of the bed, holding one of Peter’s hands in his own. 

…

Peter wakes to a faint beeping sound. The first thing he’s aware of is that he’s lying down somewhere and the other thing… is how sore he feels. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he squints when light meets his eyes and he binks a few times to adjust to the brightness. He frowns when he sees that he’s in a strange white and grey room with medical equipment scattered around but his eyes land on Steve, who’s sitting across the room from him in a chair. 

The soldier looks up and meets his eyes, almost as if he sensed that he was watching him, a small smile spreading across his face. “Well look who’s awake.” 

Movement next to him causes Peter to roll his heavy head to the side, seeing Tony sitting there, a relieved expression on his face. 

“Hey, kiddo. How’re you feeling?” Tony softly asks him as he reaches his uninjured arm up, brushing his hair away from his forehead. 

“Mm… been better…” Peter croaks, wincing from the pain it brings to his throat. 

And from out of nowhere, Sam appears at Tony’s side with a water bottle, holding it out for the man to take. It’s a team effort as Sam lifts the oxygen mask off of Peter’s face while Tony holds the bottle to his lips. 

“Small sips.” 

The water feels like heaven against his aching, burning throat. He takes a few sips of before the bottle is taken away from him. Peter breathes out in relief and closes his eyes as the oxygen mask is placed back over his nose and mouth. 

“W-Where are we?” He mumbles, opening his eyes again, looking over at Tony.

“You’re at the hospital. You had a pretty bad allergic reaction and come to find out… you’re allergic to nuts, just like Morgan is.” Tony says.

The memory of lunch comes to his mind, when he ate both of his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

Peter’s brows pull together in confusion. “What? But… I’ve had peanut butter before.”   

“I know.” Tony nods. “Dr. Cho thinks that you could have recently developed the allergy.” 

Peter was having a hard time wrapping his tired mind around all of this. His eyes widened when he thought of something. 

“Does this mean I can’t have Reese’s Cups anymore?” 

“Yeah sorry, bud.” Tony apologize. 

Peter closed his eyes and let out a small groan, even though it sounded like a weak, crackling sound at the back of his throat. “Nooo…” 

He hears a chuckle from the side of the room coming from either Sam or Steve. Tony lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through Peter’s hair. 

“But they’re my favorite.” Peter weakly says, looking over at Tony, who had a small smile on his face.

“I know they are.” The man nods, continuing to smooth down his curls. 

Peter closed his eyes and suck his lip out in a small pout. “This sucks.” 

He must’ve fallen asleep some time after that because he feels a hand gently shaking his shoulder as he wakes up. He blinks his heavy eyes open and already he feels a little better, just exhausted and sore. Tony’s smiling face comes into his view a second later. 

“Hey, bud. You have some visitors.” 

Peter’s brows pull together and he rolls his head to the side towards the door, his eyes landing on Pepper, who was holding Morgan in her arms. 

The distant memory of Morgan’s screams echo in his mind. She was there and saw everything when all of this happened. He could only imagine how terrified she had been, and probably still was. 

“Hey, Morgie.” He says with a weak smile. 

Morgan doesn’t respond, only continuing to hide her face in her mother’s neck. Pepper shoots him a sympathetic look as she steps in the room and walks over to the bed before taking a seat on the edge next to Peter. 

“Morgan, aren’t you going to say hi to Peter?”

Morgan shakes her head in response and it breaks Peter’s heart a little, hating how he was the cause for her to be so scared. Peter bites his lip as he tries to push himself up into a sitting position but his arms are too shaky and weak for him to hold himself up. Tony helps him sit up a little bit more before he sits down, letting Peter rest his back against his chest. 

“Morgan, baby, look. Petey’s okay.” Tony softly says, reaching his hand around to run a hand through her hair, only for her to hide her face further in Pepper’s neck. 

Pepper’s eyes meet Tony’s from over Peter’s head, clearly both at a loss of what to do. Peter takes in a breath before he reaches a shaky hand up and pulls the oxygen mask off of his face so it’s hanging around his neck. Tony makes a protesting sound but he ignores him for the moment as he sits up a little more with the man’s help. 

“Miss Morgan?” Peter says in a sing-song voice, just like he always does, only his voice sounds like he gargled with a bunch of nails. 

He winces from the pain it brings but ignores it as he reaches a hand out and places it on the five year old’s back. 

“I know I scared you and I’m so sorry, Morgan. It won’t happen again.” He promises, praying that it won’t happen again because he sure never wanted a repeat of this. 

Morgan turned her head, her beautiful, teary brown eyes falling on him. 

“There she is.” He smiles at her, reaching a hand up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. 

“M-Mommy says that you’re sick… a-are you feeling better now?” She hiccups, her little fist bunching up the black t-shirt Pepper has on which is probably one of Tony’s. 

“Much better, especially now that you’re here.” 

Morgan blinks at him as more tears escape her eyes and Peter looks up at Pepper, holding his arms out slightly. She nods and leans closer to him, passing the five year old to him. 

Morgan immediately clings to him and he then discovers that he was wearing his t-shirt again, which he’s grateful for because it was a bit chilly in here. Peter wraps his arms around her and raises his IV-free hand, cradling his hand at the back of her head as she starts to cry into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay… I’m alright, Morg. It’s okay.” He whispers to her, closing his eyes. 

After a few minutes, her cries tamper down, as well as her tears. Morgan pulls back and looks at him, her bottom lip quivering. Tony reacheshis hand from beind Peter and brushes some of her hair away from her face. 

“W-Would juice pops help Petey feel better?” She hopefully asks, the question aimed at her father.

Tony and Pepper both laugh at the question. 

“I think so. How about we go get some while Mommy stays here to keep an eye on him?’ Tony asks as he braces his hand on the middle of Peter’s back as he begins to stand up, helping the teen sit back aginst the pile of pillows while Pepper picks the five year old up from his lap. 

Once Peter is settled down again, the oxygen mask back on his face, Tony takes Morogan from Pepper, pecking his wife on the cheek with a smile before they both head down to the cafeteria to get popcicles. 

And when they come back, they spend the remainder of the day eating popsicles while watching Disney movies on the small portable TV a nurse brings into the room once they check in on Peter, checking his vitals and ask him questions. He has to stay overnight for observations but he’s grateful that he has his family here with him. 

When they get back home, he later discovers that the whole house has been cleared of anything containing nuts, along with his secret stash of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups he kept in his closet away from Morgan… so they must not have been so secret after all. He blames it on FRIDAY for giving their location away but he’s grateful for it because he never wants to see another one of those things again. 

[goldenavenger02]

Helping Hand

This is for @creativity-queens-92 birthday! based on the prompt "Character B is just recovering from the vomiting bug and is so weak so Character A spoon feeds them food and helps them drink water" I hope you like it!

•••••••••

"I-I think I'm done." Peter said as he reached up to flush the toilet from where he was sitting beside it after vomiting again. He had lost count how many times he had leaned over the toilet and chocked out his guts.

Tony reached over and flushed the toilet with his left hand before helping Peter prop himself up against the bathtub. "Just sit here for a minute. We don't wanna move you before we are absolutely sure you're done."

Peter nodded, and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing when he felt someone pat his cheek gently. He opened his eyes and saw Tony holding a small paper cup in his hands. "Don't want it."

"I don't want you to get dehydrated, Peter. Just a little bit." The older of the two insisted, gently pressing the rim against Peter's lips, but when the teenager shook his head, he continued to speak. "Open your mouth and tilt your head back, then."

The teen did what he was told, and let his mentor tilt some water into his mouth, swallowing it as it cooled his stinging throat.

"Better?" His mentor asked as he put the paper cup on the edge of the bathtub, and pulled Peter closer, deciding to wait about five minutes before helping the kid walk to his room so he could keep a eye on him.

"Yeah."

"Good." Tony smiled, gently squeezing his shoulder and trying to ignore the ache in his bones as he sat against the tub. He was getting too old for this, but he wouldn't trade anything for the calm and quiet he currently has with his teenager.

•••••••••••

It was two hours later, and luckily, Peter was able to keep down water, even if his hands were so shaky that Tony had to hold the cup. The teen was now sleeping on Pepper's side of the bed while Tony absent mindedly scrolled through some blue prints for future projects.

But he knew that he had to get something other then water into Peter's stomach, so he slowly got out of the bed in order to insure he was still sleeping, and went downstairs to make some soup, Luckily, after Pepper got pregnant with Morgan, his wife insisted on making sure he was able to cook decently for when she wasn't home.

He took his prosthetic right arm off as he grabbed some salt, carrots, celery, and chicken, preparing them while heating up a pot with some chicken base and noodles Pepper made last night for dinner.

In the midst of his cooking, however, Tony heard one of his least favorite sounds. Peter was crying. It was only then that the genius, playboy, billionaire and philanthropist remembered Peter was prone to nightmares when he was sick.

So, he turned off the burner on the stove before sprinting up the stairs to his room, turning on the light and sitting on the edge of the bed before gently shaking Peter's shoulder with his left hand. "Petey, wake up. Just a dream."

"We won, Mr. Stark..." Peter cried, thrashing in his blankets. "Y-you did it...you did it."

"Peter." Tony tried again, trying to block out the fact that he was reliving the battle that nearly cost him his life. "Peter, wake up."

Peter shot straight up, gasping and coughing, looking around the room till his eyes met Tony's. "Y-you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. Are you?" Tony asked, running his fingers through Peter's curly hair before gently propping up a few pillows and helping Peter lay back down. He heard the kid take a few deep breaths, but when he glanced at Tony's right arm, his breathing sped up again, to which Tony started combing his left through his hair again. "Kiddo, I'm okay. I just took the prosthetic off for a bit while I was making your soup."

"P-promise?"

"I promise." He smiled, kissing the teen's forehead, and grabbing the water on the nightstand, helping him take a few sips before handing him his cell phone. "Call your aunt. Even though she's on her honeymoon, she's gonna want to hear from you. I'll be right back with your soup." Tony insisted, going back downstairs, putting back on his prosthetic arm before spooning the soup into a bowl and popping it into the microwave, making a mental note to put the rest up later.

When the soup was done, Tony grabbed a spoon and a small stack of napkins and went back to his room as Peter was finishing the phone call, setting the things he brought up on the nightstand, making himself comfortable on the bed.

"I'll see you then. Bye, May." Peter finished, clicking the 'end call' button and setting the phone down, relaxing on the pillows.

"How's your aunt?"

"I think I interrupted her and Happy." Peter fake shuddered, even though he was really happy for May and Happy, he didn't want to think about their sex life.

"They have plenty of time to get it on for another five days in Hawaii." Tony joked, leading Peter to fake gag, scaring Tony enough to shove the bucket under his chin.

"I'm messing with you."

"You're a little shit, you know that, right?" The inventor questioned, putting the bucket on the ground before asking. "Are your hands still shaky?" The response he got was Peter lifting his hands off the blanket and watching them twitch, so the older of the two sighed and picked up the spoon, putting it in the bowl. "Hear comes the airplane, or whatever that bullshit is."

Peter opened his mouth and allowed himself to be spoon fed, feeling his hands shake and his eyes close as he swallowed the warm soup. "Thanks..."

"Anytime, kid."

[slackersunite-ao3]

Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Spider-Man, Deadpool Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Sexual Abuse, escort!au, AU, Wade is a sweetheart as always, Escort!Peter, Tagging as Updated, Slow Burn, kind of, rape mention, Angst, Suicide mention, happy endings, original origins, Bottom Wade, Top Peter, Complete, Prostitution Summary: Peter Parker is a prostitute, and Wade is one of his favorite customers. After an unfulfilling night a call from Wade has Peter feeling better than ever before.

Chapter 1

Suddenly his hands were everywhere. Down Peter's body, through his thin, ripped shirt. Then the man's mouth was all over him, and Peter wanted to scream but he couldn't. This, he had to do this. He had done it before, he would do it again. The man was muttering things about how he was a "pretty little bitch" and Peter wanted to run away and curl up in the shower, but he couldn't.

Then just as the man had been using his body just a few seconds ago, the hands turned suddenly rougher. Suddenly more prone to hitting, the mouth that had made it's way all over his skin became suddenly more prone to biting. Peter groaned, and he tried desperately to push away but the man was stronger. Peter could be fine with a little rough sex, a little beyond the limits and lines, but this was something that he couldn't take. The man was suddenly pushing Peter roughly against the wall, even if he was older with his greying hair he was still stronger than Peter whose tired muscles and malnutrition made him the perfect fuck toy. This was the fourth man tonight, and most likely the last. If the man didn't kill him, which he might, Peter would likely pass out right there.

The man threw Peter against the wall, his head banged harshly against the dusty dry wall, and then before he knew it Peter was face to face with the man's dick, and it was choking him, the man's hand pulling at Peter's hair. Peter couldn't breathe, and he tried desperately not to choke to hard. Then the man came all over his face and in his mouth and Peter was let go to fall onto the floor heaving and panting. The man kicked Peter harshly in the ribs, there was no payment.

It took all of Peter's strength to get up, he quickly grabbed his tarnished shirt and wiped his face best he could before he hit the streets again. Not the streets, he would be going to one place and one place only. And that was his dusty, broken apartment, which was terrible all except for the fact that it was empty and peaceful in its own way.

Peter walked the few blocks to his apartment, but before he could get all the way there his battered phone buzzed in his pocket. He flipped it open and read the text, "You free?" It was one of his regulars, a guy that was generous with the cash and easy to please. He was probably one of Peter's favorite customers. The guys he slept with either ranged from okay to extremely crappy, but Wade was just really good as a person. Peter sighed and slumped against a street sign. He needed the money, he hadn't gotten payed for all the lovely bruises he know had, and Wade wasn't too bad. He'd go, Wade might not want to sleep with him because of how fucked out he looked, but who knew maybe it was a hidden kink.

Peter texted back asking for an address, and Wade bless his soul had sent back an address just a block away. Peter trecked the block, his thin ripped clothing doing little to shelter him from the cool night air. The address led to a scarily fancy hotel. Peter didn't think they would let him in, at least not bloody and barely dressed. He texted Wade, "Don't think they'll let me in." And just after he hit send his phone started buzzing dramatically, a call. Peter answered, and Wade's voice on the other line was loud and bright as usual. "HIYA BABY BOY!!"

"Hey Wade," Peter tried his best not to sound as tired as he felt, but the boys tone wasn't lost on Wade.

"OkaY! So as you knoww... I LOVEEE MAKING A SCENE!! Soo... do me a favor and just walkk in through the fAncY ass double doors lIkE you PaYED TO BE THERE! I'll be waiting on the other side." With that Wade hung up, and Peter sighed with a small grin on his face, Wade was one of the only people who could make him smile. Peter jarred himself for whatever scene Wade was going to be making and moved towards the double doors.

It was lucky that the doorman had left for the night, so he was able to get through the doors at least. As soon as he got inside everyone in the lobby's heads turned immediately to him. The gold reflective material on the wall revealed to himself that he looked even worse than he had expected. The people at the reception desk were looking at him wide eyed, "Uhmm excuse me sir? But... do you have a reservation?"

Peter walked over to her, not ready for the scene which was at this point undoubtedly Wade showing up and making everyone look ridiculous when they tried to kick him out. "Yeah, no... I-"

"Okay, yeah well then you need to leave," the man at the counter said eyeing Peter like he was a nasty stain on his new car. At this point, the stain would have been more acceptable. Peter didn't move though and everyone in the lobby especially the old people sitting in the lounge looked extremely offended.

The man behind the counter moved around to stand intimidatingly next to Peter, and woman picked up the phone on the desk. "You need to leave before we call the cops." Peter smiled at the two of them, this would be funny. And right on que his knight in shining leather strolled out of the elevator. Peter couldn't help but burst into a brilliant smile, and Wade mirrored it under his mask.

"PETEY! BABYY!! YOU MADE IT!" Wade yelled throwing his arms up and moving towards Peter. Everyone in the lobby was looking at the ridiculous man in the red mask and the tux, and they didn't know what to do. The desk clerk who had come out from behind the counter straightened his collar, "You-a know this man?"

Wade turned to look at the guy in his green uniform vest, "Yes of course I do, don't you?" With that Wade strung his arm gently around Peter's shoulder, "He's the love of my life." With that Wade placed a soft masked kiss on the side of Peter's head, and by now everyone in the lobby was ready to pass out and the hotel's stock was plummeting. Peter was absolutely giddy with the looks they were getting, and he was just as petty, if not more than Wade. So Peter, knowing that Wade would never without asking first, turned in Wade's grasp and reached up turning Wade's head to face his own and kissed him where his mouth should've been. And then without missing a beat Peter turned back around to the desk clerk, "My boyfriend Wade always picks the nicest hotels doesn't he?"

And now the old people in the lounge were mentally passed out, and the desk clerks jaw had visibly dropped. Wade shrugged, threw a ben franklin on the desk and spun Peter around and walked him to the elevator, "Do me a favor and send up some Champagne!"

Once safely inside the closed elevator both men started laughing like idiots. "Oh mann BABY BOY THEIR FACES WERE BETTER THAN BOMBS!!"

Peter shook his head laughing, "Those old guys were really about to try and pour holy water on us!"

They laughed ridiculously all the way to Wade's room on the 69th floor. Which only made Peter laugh more, "You totally did that on purpose!" Wade looked at Peter, putting a hand on his chest and in mock offense, "Peter how could you doubt I wouldn't?!"

They made it all the way to Wade's room and Peter couldn't believe the sight. He had been to hotels with his Aunt years ago, but even then they were never like this. The room wasn't a room so much as it was a house. It had a living space, an office nook, a hallway and beyond. "Woah," Peter sighed as he stepped into the room, feeling completely in awe and out of place.

Wade smiled taking off his mask, "It's pretty nice isn't it."

"Yeahh," Peter breathed out, still amazed at the beauty of it all. Then Wade stepped closer to Peter and asked him to sit down. Peter hesitated, not wanting to ruin the perfectly nice couch. But Wade insisted, and Peter was likely to get paid so he did.

"Baby boy, what happened to you?" Wade kneeled down next to Peter, his eyes full of unadultered concern. Peter looked away, and suddenly he remembered how much his throat hurt, and he could feel all of the bad cuts and bruises, and suddenly he was tired enough to sleep for an eternity.

"Wade... I understand if you don't want me tonight. I know I look terrible, I'm sorry. I'll leave," Peter moved to get up, but Wade stood in his way. "Petey, you can leave if you want but not before I bandage you up."

"Wade... I can't, that's not your job." But Wade wasn't moving, and Peter was too tired to resist. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?! You never know maybe applying first aid is one of my kinks," Wade winked before he got up to go get the first-aid kit.

The first aid-kit wasn't a first kit at all, it was a heavy duty backpack stuffed to the brim with gauze and alcohol wipes, and suture equipment. Wade emptied all of the contents onto the coffee table. And then he went to the mini kitchen and brought back a warm damp towel. He carefully wiped Peter's face and then down his neck. Soon the towel was red and black and Wade tossed it into the trash, tearing open an alcohol wipe. "This might sting," he whispered as he gently wiped the open wounds on Peter's face. Wade worked that way for what seemed like hours that way. Gently cleaning Peter up, bandaging him in a way that only a medical professional could, and always asking before doing something, and continually explaining what he was doing and why. It was refreshing.

Once he was done, Peter felt about a thousand times better, and Wade sat back on his heels. "Do you know where I get my money from?"

Peter looked at Wade and cocked his eyebrow, "Well... you're a crazy psychotic mercenary, but I think military doctor might fit you a little better." Peter was only quoting the words of the man in front of him. He had described himself that way the first time they had met, months ago.

Wade smiled, "That's exactly right! CRAZY! PSYCHOTIC! FUCKED IN THE HEAD MERCC WITH A MOUTH!" Peter laughed, "I'll believe the merc part, and the mouth part, but not the rest. You're probably one of the sanest people I've met."

Wade let out a low whistle, "Baby boy I think you need to rethink who you're meeting." Peter shut his eyes and put his head in his hands, "Yeah, you're probably right." Wade put a hand on Peter's shoulder, "Yeahh, well being a mercenary and all I'd totally go pro bono for you."

That made Peter laugh, and Peter's laugh made Wade smile. "As lovely as that sounds, I think that's all the charity I can take from you for one night." Peter stood up to leave and Wade let him get all the way to the door before he was standing right before Peter. "Kiss me hard before you go!"

Peter laughed, "Lana would be proud." And he kissed Wade, sweetly, softly, perfectly. When they pulled apart Wade handed Peter a thick sweater and ten bens. Peter looked down at the money, "A kiss doesn't cost 1000 bucks Wade."

Wade kissed Peter's forehead, "You're right," he shoved another three hundred into Peter's hand, "GET HOME SAFE BABY BOY!" And he closed the door on Peter before he could argue.

Peter stood there shocked, staring at the red hoodie and the green cash, it was Christmas! Peter put the sweater on, it was warm and comfortable and it felt safe, and the cash was enough to keep Peter on his feet for a few days. He walked his bandaged, warm, rich ass home and fell asleep content and dreaming of Wade.

~

Wade had doned his mask again, and followed Peter home. He wanted to make sure that the man got home safely, and after Wade saw Peter collapse onto his bed, the single piece of furniture in his small apartment and fall asleep Wade walked back to the hotel and fell asleep a little upset and dreaming of Peter.

[spooderboyandtincan]

For a prompt how about baby Peter teething and bio dad Tony just trying his best...?

😃💖❣ Thanks!

~~~~~

Tony awoke to the sound of crying. 

It wasn’t unusual, unfortunately, but the piercing wails coming from his baby boy sounded pained.

And that terrified him.

He bolted up and rushed to the crib near his bed. Peter’s eyes were open, swollen and red, tears tracks running down his face. The little baby was gumming on his sleeve sadly and whimpering.

“Oh, Petey,” Tony murmured. The boy’s big, warm brown eyes shifted to him. His father gently scooped him from the crib and cradled him in his arms. “What’s wrong, bambino?”

Peter let out a small cry in response. He sniffled and buried his head in Tony’s broad chest.

“Jarvis? What’s wrong with him?” he asked anxiously. 

“Sir, it appears that Peter is in the stage commonly called ‘teething.’”

Of course.

“Oh, baby,” Tony murmured. He gently pried the boy’s mouth open with a finger. Just as he had guessed, there was a little bump protruding from his gums. “Oh, sweetheart. That must hurt, huh?” He bounced Peter in his arms. 

“Jarvis? Speed order a teething ring, teething tubes, anything else.”

“Of course.” There was a pause, then. “The arrival time is approximately two hours, sir.”

Tony frowned. That was two hours of Peter in pain. “Get it to come faster.” 

“Apologies, sir, but this is fast as they can deliver.”

He sighed. Fuck. The next few hours were going to be painful for the both of them.

~~~~~

Peter had been crying for a full half hour now, and Tony felt about ready to join him. He hated seeing his baby in so much pain. Peter gummed on his little hand, drool dripping down his chin. Carefully he took a soft cloth and soaked it in cold water, then offered in to Peter. Immediately, he latched onto it and clutched in with his tiny hands, gnawing the fabric.

His crying ceased and he whimpered slightly. When Tony looked carefully into his bambi eyes, he felt a jolt of fear, as they were glazed over and not focusing on anything. 

“Petey? Pete? Are you okay, baby? Jarvis, is he okay?” he asked urgently.

“It appears, sir, that young Peter has acquired a temperature of 101. 2 ℉. While not extremely dangerous for infants, I would recommend attempting to lower his fever.”

“How the hell do I do that?!” He said it louder than he had meant to, causing Peter to cry out. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Shh, tesoro, I’m right here.”

Once Peter calmed, Jarvis spoke. “Sources suggest, lukewarm baths, cool drinks and fluids, adjusting of clothing, and comforting your child.”

Okay. Okay, he could do that.

Peter barely fussed during his bath, occasionally dragging his hand through the thin layer of bubbles and looking vaguely curious. Tony supposed that it was good he was taking interest in things, right?

He dressed the baby in his light summer pajamas, which were made of soft, airy material and colored with blue and white polka dots. He got Peter to drink a small amount of chilled milk, then sat them on the couch, propping him up in his lap.

He cuddled Peter in his arms, stroking his flushed cheeks and kissing his little nose. The baby starting yanking at his ears, wailing, and Tony had to hold his hands gently in fear he would hurt himself. 

He tried everything he knew to stop the boy’s tears. He hugged him close against his heart, humming Italian lullabies. 

But Peter didn’t stop his whimpering, and Tony realized, with terror, that there were things he could not fix.

~~~~~

Finally, finally, the teething toys arrived. Tony hurriedly offered a blue teething tube to Peter, who took it with sticky fingers and stuck it in his mouth. 

Tony sighed with great relief as Peter gnawed on the tube, seeming to calm almost immediately. His baby squirmed forward, leaning his head on Tony’s stomach. The man smiled and kissed the boy’s little head and thin curls.

“I love you, Petey.” The child looked up at him with big, wide eyes. “I love you. So, so much.”

And Peter, for the first time that day, smiled a little and giggled.

~~~~~

@imissyoutoo @tonystark-deserves-better

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG AS ST*RKER/

[stcky-rogers]

just friends | eight

summary: bucky barnes, now a successful record executive, confessed his unrequited feelings for his best friend. ten years later, he returns home for the holidays when his plans to go to paris fall through. stuck in brooklyn with his crazy family and an egotistical pop star, bucky tries to get himself out of the friendzone. movie au, just friends

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language, slight bullying (kids are mean), injuries, mentions of blood, and some fluff.

seven

after hanging up the phone, you quickly scooped morgan into your arms, softly chuckling at the sight in front of you. your little sister had somehow managed to spill brownie batter onto herself. it was plastered in dark locks and parts of her face. 

you placed the brownies in the oven before looking back at your sister, perched on your hip. you sighed as she pouted up at you, “well, kiddo, i think we should get you cleaned up before dad and pepper get back.” you voiced, making your way into one of the bathrooms. 

after running the water and checking the temperature, you placed morgan in the tub and sat on the floor of the bathroom. you carefully washed away the brownie batter from her hair and face, singing softly to her. in the midst of your singing, morgan splashed you with water, bursting into a fit of giggles as she did so. you gasped as the warm water hit your skin and playfully glared at her. 

after finishing up the quick bath, you wrapped morgan in a towel and dried her off. your mind began to wonder, what could you have possibly done to drive bucky away? you thought everything had been okay between the two of you and suddenly, he left without saying goodbye, he changed his number, and never tried to contact you. you didn’t have clue where he could have gone, that is, until you saw him on television a few years ago. 

you had invited steve, peggy, and their twins over for a play date with morgan. the kids had tired themselves out earlier that day and were fast asleep in your bedroom. you were sat downstairs on the couch, your head resting on your hand as you stared at the tv with a bored expression.

the met gala had been premiering on television that night and there was nothing better to watch, so the three of you decided to settle on it. you fixed some drinks before tuning in to watch the gala. 

you and peggy had been commenting on the dresses many of the celebrity women were wearing as steve snorted and sipped his drink. you chuckled at your friend and turned your attention back to the screen. 

and there he was, eyes still that same vibrant, captivating blue. he no longer looked like the bucky you knew. he stood tall, confidence reeking from him as he shifted his gaze from the cameras. you choked on your drink as his gaze shifted from the camera to his right to the camera right in front of him. it was like he was staring directly at you as a smirk grew on his face. 

your breath had gotten caught in your throat as you stared back at the screen. 

in the very back of your mind you could hear your name being called, but you were stuck in a trance. your best friend, correction, your ex-best friend was attending the fucking met gala. the same person you had grown up with and knew all of your secrets was walking the red carpet, less than an hour from where you lived. 

a light touch to your shoulder caused you to snap out of your thoughts and turn your attention to a very concerned steve. his hand gripped your shoulder softly as his brows pulled together in a slight frown, “are you okay?” his voice finally getting through to you and pulling you out of your reverie. you smiled weakly, “i'm great.” you sipped your drink. 

steve knew you weren’t but decided not to press on the issue and returned to his position next to peggy.

you felt a small hand press against your cheek and pair of dark eyes staring back at you, a small frown placed on her features, “you did it, again.” she warned and you smiled softly at the five year old. “i'm sorry, i was just thinking about something.” morgan grinned in response before dressing herself with some help and running back downstairs. 

following after her, you stopped in tracks at the sight in front you. squealing, you hurried down the rest of the steps and quickly wrapped your arms around your little brother. “petey!” you sighed into his hair. “can’t breathe,” he managed in your tight hug. quickly loosening your arms, you smiled before frowning and giving your brother a light shove. 

“i thought you wouldn’t be coming back until after christmas.” you watched as peter’s face flushed and he stammered over his words. “i decided to surprise everyone. surprise.” you shook your head. you felt a light tug on your skirt and looked down to see morgan holding a book in her hands. peter swept her up into his arms and planted kisses all over her cheeks. 

the timer you had set on the stove went off and you pulled the brownies out of the oven. you set them on the counter to cool before you began cleaning and putting things away. once you were finished, you started cutting the brownies. 

“peter!” you heard morgan exclaim in between her fit of giggles. you smiled at the two before peter turned his attention to you, “go relax, i’ve got her.” you were about to speak when peter cut you off, “seriously, go.” he smiled before pointing up the stairs. setting down the brownie cutter and raising your hands in defense, you planted a kiss on morgan’s cheek and gave peter a quick hug before heading up to your room. 

changing out of your clothes and into an oversized shirt, you climbed into bed and you could hear a little whine as you were about to slip under the blankets. peering over the side of the bed, you looked down to see the chocolate lab staring up at you. sighing, you leaned down to pick him up, placing him in the bed with you, he plopped down on your stomach and soon fell asleep with you not too far behind.

when you had woken the next morning it was due to the sun seeping in through the small cracks in your curtains. you groaned before flipping on to your stomach and burying your face in the pillows in a hopeless attempt to fall back asleep. after a few moments of tossing and turning, you sighed before tossing the blanket off of your body and making your way downstairs. 

following the sounds of giggles and music, you figured peter had woken up and started on breakfast. reaching the last step, your eyes landed on bucky and morgan, sitting on top of the counter with their backs facing you, sipping out of mugs. 

you softly called out to your sister and she turned her gaze to you, squealing as bucky helped her off of the counter and ran to you. you returned her hug and brushed her hair out of her face. you pulled back slightly, “morgan, sweetie, what did we say about opening the door?” you asked, briefly glancing up at bucky as he stared back at you. 

“that i’m not allowed to open them.” she stated and you nodded, “that’s right, do you know how bucky got in?” you asked softly and bucky cleared his throat. “she didn’t let me in, peter did. he wanted to get a shower in and asked me to watch her for a bit.” morgan gave you a pointed look and you ruffled her hair. standing up, you made your way over to the coffee pot and fixed yourself a cup. 

you turned to face bucky, hands bringing your mug to your lips. “so, ice skating, huh?” you smirked behind your cup and bucky rolled his eyes. “look, i swear i’m better than i was ten years ago.” you laughed and bucky rolled his eyes again, “oh, you think i’m joking?” he asked and you rapidly nodded. 

you set your mug on the counter and faced bucky, “of course i do! you couldn’t skate to save your life when we were kids, i guarantee nothing has changed.” you joked and bucky looked down at his feet.

“things change over time,” he shrugged, a smirk pulling at his lips. you smiled to yourself and shook your head. at that moment, peter came bounding down the stairs, nearly tripping over himself as entered the kitchen. smiling at your brother, you ran your hand down bucky’s arm, causing him to shiver.

“i hope you have room for two more.” you bit your lip before rushing upstairs to get ready. 

when bucky had suggested on going on another date, he definitely didn’t mean for it to turn into a stark family outing. but, here he was, embarrassing himself, not only in front of you, but your siblings as well. but, morgan and peter were ahead of the two of you, having fun on their own.

pulling himself off of the ice with a grunt, bucky looked over at you as you bit your lip. “are you sure you’re as good as you say you are?” 

a scoff slipped past bucky’s lips, “i am, it’s just, i’m no good in rental skates.” he sighed. you chuckled, moving in front of him and spinning around to face him, peeking over your shoulder. “you’ve always been such a show off,” bucky grumbled, struggling to keep his balance. you shrugged, “nah, i’m just a natural.” you joked, a smile formed on bucky’s lips before he lost his balance completely and kissed the ground once again. 

“these goddamn rental skates,” bucky grumbled. you leaned down to help pull him to his feet instead bucky brushed you off before standing on his on. “i’ve got it,” he snapped and you nodded before shoving your hands in your pockets. 

you two began to slowly moved around the ice, watching everyone zoom past the two of you. “so, how’s the love life?” bucky asked, glancing over at you. 

you chuckled, “almost nonexistent.” bucky quirked a brow at you and you rolled your eyes. “bruce and i broke up about a year ago,” you shrugged. 

“another dick?” bucky asked and you mocked him with a roll of your eyes. “i’m just saying, that was pretty much your type in high school.” 

“well, i grew out of that,” and it was the truth. “bruce was really sweet and different, but i don’t think it was in the cards for us.” you informed him and he nodded in understanding. 

“what about you?” you asked, silently dreading asking the question. bucky shook his head, “no, just been dating. i’m looking for my soulmate.” he shrugged and you let out a howl of laughter, causing him to smile. 

“i take it you didn’t buy that?” your laughter died down and you looked up at him, “not one bit. but, maybe you should try harder.” bucky bit his lip as he stared down at you. 

he grabbed your arm and pulled you into him. your chest colliding and your breath mixing with his. “or i could try this,”he whispered as he leaned down, your breath getting caught in your throat as you leaned into him. 

and suddenly someone was knocking into you, causing the two of you to fall in opposite directions. you pushed yourself into a sitting position as familiar faces appeared in front of you. “miss stark!” they all exclaimed. pushing yourself on to your feet, they all wrapped their arms around you to give you a hug and you smiled. you saw bucky pushing himself into a standing position and making his way towards you. you introduced the students to bucky, explaining to him you’re their substitute from time to time. somehow you managed to get yourself and bucky into an extremely intense game of hockey and your team wasn’t doing too well. 

a kid came by and whacked bucky in the shin with the hockey stick. letting out a hiss of pain, bucky shouted, “he hacked me!” the kid glared in response and skated over to bucky before throwing down their hockey stick and hitting bucky. bucky twisted his body to block the hits and the ref came over to break up the fight. 

“what the hell are you doing? she’s just a child.” bucky frowned as he stared down at the child in front of him.

bucky panted, “you’re a girl?” she rolled her eyes before picking up her hockey stick and skating away. 

“pussy!” she called over shoulder and bucky huffed before huddling up with his team.

“we’re getting our asses kicked out there!” one the kids stated and every one except you began to point out bucky’s faults and degrade him. 

“hey!” you called, “that is unacceptable, bucky is trying his best.” you scolded and bucky would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. 

“sorry, miss stark. he’s just terrible.” bucky grumbled before removing himself from the huddle.

everything had happened so quickly, bucky began knocking the children over as he moved toward the goal, in the distance he could hear you shouting at him to stop, but he was in competitive mode and there was no getting through to him. preparing himself for the shot to finally put his team on the scoreboard, bucky swung his hockey stick, sending the puck soaring as it connected with the top of the goal. the puck ricocheted off the goal and smacked bucky in the face causing him to land flat on his back. 

the ambulance arrived quickly, strapping bucky into the stretcher as he lay unconscious. you followed the paramedics up to the hill and looked down at bucky on the stretcher as blood pooled from his mouth. you fainted at the sight, luckily another paramedic was there to catch you and when you gained consciousness, you gasped at the sight. 

“thor?” 

he gave a deep chuckle, “well, if it isn’t little miss stark.” he smirked.

nine

taglist:

@starkxpotts / @captain-avengerss / @metermarker / @propertyofpoeandbucky/ @inlovewith3 / @thisismyfriend-tree / @amor67figment-love / @sourieeseb / @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency / @renalilo/ @skin-like / @comicaluke / @breezy1415 /