#pizza pasta and star wars....and this is where I leave you

[cosmic-ships]

.

Me walking out of the hospital like a vault dweller leaving a super fucked up vault like

"what year is it?" "What time is it?" "The sun hurts my eyes" "I'm fucking hungry bro" "I feel like hell and look equally as bad"

[classicsubliminalbo]

Dirty Work

Originally published Jun 2, 2018

It was half-passed midnight and Andrea was ten minutes into a promising night's sleep when the phone rang. She answered with a curt, "What?"

"We got a job," Tyler said on the other end of the line. "It's a weird one." "Jesus, Tyler, I've got a midterm in nine hours." "We've all got shit on our plate, okay, Andrea? But it's a weird one. And weird ones..." "'Weird ones pay more,'" Andrea repeated. "Fine, whatever, pick me up." "Already outside."

Andrea met Tyler in the small parking lot across from her apartment. He was driving that same old shitty mint green Crown Vic he'd been threatening to trade in for a Tesla since they started the job. At least Tyler had a car, a thought that helped Andrea retain some humility every time she settled in the passenger's seat. The ignition stuttered when Tyler turned the key, and he shot Andrea an optimistic glance before the engine roared to life.

At a stoplight he asked, "What do you think about Vietnam?" "The war?" Andrea replied. "No, for spring break. I know it's a little esoteric but everyone does Orlando or Cancun." "That's because they're on this continent, Tyler." "Right," he said, driving through the light. "I think if you asked daddy he'd buy you a fucking beach." "You don't have to insult me," Tyler frowned. Andrea smirked and added, "What are you even doing still driving a beater?" "Honestly?" he asked. "College girls don't want to date a guy with a nice car. It's intimidating." "I wouldn't fuck a guy in this car. It smells like cheese."

Tyler continued on to Romero's main business strip, finally pulling over to the shoulder in front of Argento's Pizzeria. "Here we are," he said. "Argento's?" Andrea asked skeptically, studying the restaurant through her window. The lights were on but the neon open sign was switched off. Argento's Pizzeria and Italian was a staple of Carpenter State student life. Most students on a budget were regulars at Pizza Joe's, but Argento's was where you took a girl if you wanted a second date. It was never closed before two.

"I told you it's a weird one," Tyler said. "A couple of hours ago this girl goes batshit crazy, starts writhing on top of the table, really making love to this plate of spaghetti." "Gross." "Yeah. Junior can't get her to leave and she's making a scene so he does the logical thing and closes up, feeds her all the pasta she wants till she passes out." "Why doesn't he call the cops?" Tyler shrugged. "Bad for business, I guess. People round here know about us, Andrea. They know our deal with Pierce."

Their deal with Pierce. Most of the time he had them tailing his daughter, Monica, taking her into Dr. Fielding when she got too crazy. But things could get weird around Carpenter State and whenever the dean found himself or a friend in trouble, he called upon his team of fixers to clean it up. It was shit work, but it payed well. Most students wanted internships to build their resumes for life outside of college, but Andrea and Tyler's work with the dean was strictly off the books. That wasn't as big of a deal to Andrea who had the ambition of a hibernating bear. Tyler was the rising star of the pair, a journalism major with lofty goals and the family connections to achieve them. Growing up rich taught Tyler a lot about climbing ladders, and though he couldn't put "fixer" on his resume, Dean Pierce did promise to write any recommendation letter Tyler would ask for and had managed to secure him the position of head editor at The Daily Gremlin, Carpenter State's official student paper. Tyler found that controlling the news media around campus made his secret job a little easier.

"This place always gave me the creeps," Andrea commented as they waited for Junior at the door. "Why?" Tyler asked. "Who opens a pizza joint in a church?"

They heard the lock click, and the wide doors swing open. "Thank Christ you're finally here," Junior Argento breathed. "Where is she, Junior?" Andrea asked.

He nodded toward the back and the pair followed him into the kitchens. There they found the girl, Amy Teller, lying on the floor at the base of an industrial sink. Her boyfriend Jay was sitting next to her distracting himself with his phone. When he saw the two new faces he hopped up and eagerly asked them if they were cops.

Junior slapped Jay and sternly shouted, "No cops!" "We're the next best thing," Tyler winked.

Jay introduced himself and when Andrea asked, he explained what had happened.

"I swear it's those goons from Carmella's again," Junior grumbled. "They're trying to run me out of business!" "Tyler, come look at this," Andrea said as she examined Amy. "What is it?" Jay asked, taking a respite from his cuticle.

Tyler knelt down next to Andrea. She lifted up Amy's eyelid to reveal a solid crimson eye underneath. "You have any idea what that is?" she whispered. "I'll call Dr. Fielding," Tyler whispered back.

Amy jolted to life, startling the pair to their feet. "More!" she cried, grabbing hold of Andrea's arm. "So good...I need more!" "Baby!" Jay cried back. "It's gonna be okay, baby!"

Andrea placed a calming hand on Jay's shoulder. "We're taking her to the Psychology building. You should come with us."

Amy continued writhing in Tyler's backseat as they drove her down the road to meet with Dr. Fielding. Jay held her in his arms, trying to bring her back down, lull her back to sleep. Andrea and Tyler could only share uncomfortable glances at each other as Jay whispered hopefully in his girlfriend's ear. "Why the psychology building?" Jay finally asked.

"Dr. Fielding knows a lot about behavioral science," Andrea replied. "We just want to rule out a psychotic episode." "Jesus Christ," Jay cried.

Dr. Fielding was waiting in her pajamas outside the psychology building. She told them that she'd spoken to Dean Pierce and asked them to wait outside of her office while she worked with Amy and Jay. Andrea felt an eerie feeling of déjà vu sitting there, but she pushed through it while she discussed strategies with Tyler.

"It's not just going to sweep under the rug," she said as she rubbed her eyes. "A lot of witnesses." "It's midterm season, maybe school got the best of her?" Tyler suggested. Andrea shook her head. "Nah, Pierce'll never go for that. Too much heat on the school. Next we'll have parents asking what Pierce's doing for our mental health, he'd have to call a special investigation to save face." "What do you think then?" Tyler asked.

Tyler had the future, but Andrea was the real brains of the operation. This was where she was invaluable.

"What if...a new drug is going around campus, making students loopy." "I could print that," Tyler nodded. "No. We leak it to local news. Start a real hysteria, 'the new designer drug and why you're eleven year old is using it.' That way people aren't talking about Argento's, they're talking about the drug." "That's really smart, Andrea."

"I know," Andrea said. Sometimes it scared her how good she was at this job. "You ever think this is fucked up?" "All the time," Tyler replied.

Before they could continue discussing the ethics of their job, Dr. Fielding's office door opened and a surprisingly content-looking Jay stepped out. Fielding followed behind him and whispered in his ear. "Yes, Dr. Fielding," he said. Andrea and Tyler exchanged nervous glances as Jay shuffled blissfully away.

"I eased Jay's concerns," Dr. Fielding clarified. "But it's going to take a little bit more than hypnotherapy to bring Amy back." Dr. Fielding shook her head then added, "Of course you two don't have to worry about that. It's awfully late now, you'd best get along."

"Thank you," Andrea said, inching toward her seat. "Oh!" Dr. Fielding chirped. "There's just one more thing before you leave." "Yes?" Tyler asked. Dr. Fielding smiled, and somehow Andrea knew she had seen that smile before. 

"No!" Andrea cried, trying to leap out of her chair. But Dr. Fielding said, "Sleep," and Andrea was powerless to disobey the doctor's command. 

Andrea's body plopped lifelessly down in the chair as her chin hit her chest. Her heartbeat slowed, but she was still alive. Conscious even, but unable to think without a command. Andrea heard Dr. Fielding's voice echo clearly in her mind. "You both did a wonderful job tonight," she said.

"Thank you, Dr. Fielding," Andrea and Tyler said in unison.

"Pierce will get you your money but you understand by now that he needs you insurance you won't go telling your friends about the job. It's all very confidential." "Yes, Dr. Fielding, we understand." Dr. Fielding turned to Tyler and said, "Tyler, affirm your loyalty." "I am a loyal student of Carpenter State University. I swear to proudly serve Dean Pierce and protect the legacy of this institution." "Andrea, affirm your loyalty." "I am a loyal student of Carpenter State University. I swear to proudly serve Dean Pierce and protect the legacy of this institution."

"Very good," Dr. Fielding smiled. "Now, I want you two to take all of those doubts you have, all of those nagging ethics and questions that you have and lock them away someplace in your head that you'll never find. When you wake up, you'll understand what you've done tonight, and you'll be proud." "Yes, Dr. Fielding. We are proud to serve."

Andrea didn't remember leaving Dr. Fielding's office. She awoke the next morning in her own bed with a foggy head and an email granting her a makeup on the midterm, another benefit of working for the dean. Andrea smiled, happy that she could play a part in protecting her school.

[travellingtribble]

thank you for the tag!! these are always fun lol

color: yellow, (dark) blue and teal

food: idk? I'll be a stereotype and say pizza. also kebab and pasta.

beverage: beer, and water. and chinotto

movie: a lot. The legend of '900, Donnie Darko, Dragonheart, Blade Runner and the Cornetto Trilogy

TV show: Doctor Who, Star Trek (all of em) Torchwood, OFMD and WWDITS, The Unicorn

book: Novecento by Alessandro Baricco

animal: cats (felines) dogs, wolves (canines), moths and herons!

singer: Bruce Springsteen, Cosmo Sheldrake, John Denver, Fabrizio De André; if we talk bands: Nomadi, The Cranberries, tøp, Eugenio in via di Gioia, CCR, the Longest Johns and The Amazing Devil

song (atm): the flesh failures (let the sunshine in) from Hair 1979 and Golden Brown by The Stranglers

time of day: evening/around sunset, night

song lyric: And where is the lamb that gave you your name? He had to leave, though I begged him to stay. Begged him to stay in my cold wooden grip, begged him to stay by the light of this ship. Me fighting him, fighting light, fighting dawn, and the waves came and stole him and took him to war. (what he wrote - Laura Marling)

emoji: 🪐😔

I have a lot of favourites, lol. There was more but I can't put them all 😩

Tagging nobody! sorry to break the chain, but whoever sees this and wants to join is welcome to!!!

reblog with your favorite:

color: purple

food: french fries

beverage: dr pepper

movie: the parent trap

tv show: percy jackson and the olympians

book: neverseen (fight me on this🦅🦅💥💥)

animal: sloth

singer: toss up between taylor olivia maisie gracie and sabrina

song (atm): good luck, babe!

time of day: midnight

song lyric: address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings, nothing’s forever, nothing’s as good as it seems

emoji: 🧐(im not kidding)

[solomonish]

Dork Solomon Agenda

You say sexy shady sorcerer I say nerd and love of my life

Solomon is a sad lonely little man why just wants a genuine connection us that so much to ask???

No but seriously like. It's totally fine if you hc Solomon as this man-turned-lowkey-sex-god with a million succubi and more at his whim whenever he wants and would be a tough one to put the ol' ball and chain on like to each their own for sure! But that's not MY hc

(Thats not to say my hc means he doesn't ever engage in casual sex like that and wanting a genuine long term relationship at some point [or finding out thats what you want when you meet someone] are not mutually exclusive yknow)

So like Solomon isn't the type to be short with you or keep you at an arm's length (i mean...u get what I mean. Once you're close enough and all that jazz) or get annoyed by you wanting to be affectionate?? Hello??

He LOVES the little things you do (some on accident tbh). You feeling affectionate today and give him a kiss or three on his face before you leave to go to your separate classes? Adorable, he's fallen in love again. You do that thing where you like.. forget how to walk straight and just accidentally bump into him? No come back he likes being close to you :( He doesn't SAY these things but there's a light, airy laugh he has that gives him away.

If you're ever facetiming he will say "boo!" when you connect instead of just. Greeting you like a normal person.

His fuckin. His devilgram name is monSOLO. My mans is a star wars fan!!! I dont know any of The Discourse bc I'm not super into star wars myself but he has IN DEPTH opinions about the movies. Seriously rivals Levi in this aspect. Please make time for movie nights where you watch the movies together 🥺 especially if you haven't seen them before he'd love to convert you 🥺

Didn't Solomon also have a thing for TSL??? Or am I just imagining it??

I feel like his ideal date would be exploring something new, whether its this new spooky forest or "hey have we been down this alley before? Let's check it out!" but ideal date number TWO is movie night. Even if it isn't Star Wars. He likes to sit on opposite ends of the couch throwing popcorn into each other's mouths (and big candies like peanut m&ms where you both have almost choked before) and maybe a footsie war if he's feeling real devious. Then at some point you grab a blanket and snuggle up to him and you both fall asleep on the couch

Simeon yells at him when you leave because there's popcorn EVERYWHERE

LOVES when you laugh super loud. Idk man he just thinks its great when you have such unbridled joy and then he laughs too 😊 not as loud though he's more of a quiet chuckle kind of guy (most of the time).

Is friends with Asmo so is extremely great at slumber party gossip. Catch him in his pajamas, cross-legged on the floor while clutching a pillow to his chest and listening intently to you rant about the brothers.

"Come here I have a secret to tell you" (blows air in your ear) "okay okay I'm sorry but come here again" (blows air on your neck) "okay okay last time! I actually have something to tell you. Please? Its important...." (kisses ur cheek) "like u a lil bit xo"

Never the type to send "good morning beautiful" or "good night 💞" texts. Instead he'll send you something at 4 am like "the infinite cosmos will eventually swallow whole all familiarity and life as it is now presently known and despite the adaptations humans or demons or angels could make i will still have to adapt and face the world as an alien in the realm I love so dearly. Funny how the strongest of beings bow to the whim of space and time. But sometimes my eternal journey doesn't seem so daunting when I realize that with my everlasting life will be the memory of you no matter how distant and the survival of the vessel you loved...."

And then at lunch that day when the brothers pull you away he'll send you a picture of the lasagna they're serving with "this kinda looks like you? Don't worry I'd still hit it" and then two minutes later "you not the pasta"

Is the type to think randomly "oh damn I love you so much" but has an impressive filter about it. Or he thinks he does until Luke grumbles "ugh get a room thats the fifth time you've seen that since monday" ok, sometimes he has a good filter about it

He can't help it! Sometimes you just say something really smart (or something SPECTACULARLY dumb) or you do something cute like lean on him or smile a specific way or-

Sir.....you're head over heels sir :/

The type who would go to a playground at night with you and just swing on the swings talking about life

Wants to have a secret handshake with you!!

If you're ever on a road trip with just the two of you, you can get him to join in on the terrible singing but he'll be a lot quieter than you

Also will only join in if he isn't driving. If he is and you aren't talking, he's just humming underneath his breath. Will drum on the steering wheel though

Cooking

(Yes, it gets its own section because MAYBE I'm obsessed with the idea of MC teaching Solomon to cook and the food still turning out terrible but at least it isn't a void when MC is helping)

The type to flick water at you every time he washes his hands. Will chase you down just to do it.

"Hey, tilt your head back and open your mouth MC" (proceeds to dump too big a handful of shredded cheese in your mouth)

100% the type to lean over you just to hinder your cooking abilities. Who cares if the sauce splashes he's tiiiired.... you'd let belphie do it :(

Puts a hand on your lower back when he passes behind you. Hopes you'll lean into it/step back and offer him a kiss 🥺

Believes in always having a proper table setting. Prepare for whatever juice they have (or water) in wine glasses if you're having a nice-er meal

Under the assumption that a spell ruined his sense of taste (and not that he's just bad at cooking) he hates spicy food. He can feel the burn but he gets none of the flavor??? Wack. Don't hurt him like that MC. If you do because its hilarious to watch him try to be cool about it he will pout

Gets cheesy aprons. He just likes them.

Will hit you on the top of your head with a whisk to hear the noise it makes

Will buy every kitchen hack tool there is. A ketchup dispenser that looks like a gun? He's got it. A fish that helps you squeeze out the egg yolks? Yes! A dinosaur soup ladle? You bet! Pizza scissors? A tool that makes hard boiled eggs into cubes? Something that's gotta be like 200 years old and no discernable purpose? Absolutely! He wants a hot dog toaster. Do they even have hot dogs in the devildom?

Will sneak bites just because it bothers you

Overall

Look at him. He hasn't had friends in centuries. He's playful!

Look at his DEVILGRAM NAME

His funky little WAND

This is a man who is a huge nerd, thrives off of cliches and just wants to have a good time. So let him! Its mentally exhausting having those pretenses up all the time.

[sometimesbeforeitgetsbetter]

On An Evening In Roma | Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: Stiles and y/n promised each other they'd have adventures together while in Rome for their post-graduation trip, but what happens when a cute Italian boy enters the picture?

Word count: 4,174

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing another fic, but I rewatched the Lizzie McGuire movie a couple weeks ago and was absolutely inspired to write. It's an AU where there's no supernatural stuff lol. Just imagining Stiles and y/n as Gordo and Lizzie is *chef's kiss*. I also think it's really funny to imagine Coach as Miss Ungermeyer...they're so different yet so similar in a bunch of ways. Some of the dialogue is also from the movie! Sorry if some of the Italian is wrong...I just used Google translate lol. I mostly listened to the movie soundtrack while writing it, so I recommend listening to it while reading as well! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think about it!! :)

--

“Alright delinquents, check your bags so we can be on our way to the land of pizza and pasta.”

“I can’t even begin to express how incredibly reductive that is of Italian culture,” I said as I laughed lightly and watched the chaos unfolding at the airport. “How did we get stuck with Coach taking us on our post-graduation trip to Rome?” Next to me, one of my best friends Scott shrugged. “Beats me. I was hoping for someone chill, like Mr. Yukimura or something.”

As we stood watching our crazy chaperone bustling about, a brown-haired boy ran through the airport doors up to us, lugging a massive suitcase and duffel bag with his pillow tucked under his arm.

“Woah, Stilinski. You know we’re only going for two weeks, right?” I asked my other best friend, Stiles.

Out of breath, he laughed humorlessly. “Haha, very funny. Sue me for wanting to be prepared for all possible circumstances.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s Rome, not the middle of nowhere. I’m sure you can find anything you need there if you forget something.”

It was Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes. “Well, y/n–”

“Can we just check in?” Scott asked, tired of our meaningless bickering already. “I wouldn’t put it past Coach to leave people behind.”

Stiles and I nodded before following our friend to the check-in kiosks.

Luckily, Coach did not leave us behind. In fact, his bickering with Greenberg gave everyone plenty of time to check in, go through security, and board the plane. I found myself sitting next to Stiles after Scott begged him to switch assigned seats so that he could sit next to his crush, Allison.

At the start of the flight, Stiles and I chatted and hung out like we normally did. But a few hours (and Star Wars movies) into the nearly 13.5 hour flight, I started to doze off.

I don’t know how it happened, but when I woke up a few hours later, my head was on Stiles’ shoulder, and his head was resting against the top of mine. My movement must have woken him up, so he lifted his head too.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as we smiled sheepishly at each other.

“It’s fine,” he said, scratching the back of his head slightly with his hand. “Actually, your head was a really nice pillow.”

“Didn’t you bring your own pillow?” I asked, eyeing the pillow in his lap.

“Well, yeah, but your hair is soft,” he admitted. “And it smells good.”

I chuckled, ignoring the weird feeling in my chest at his statement. “Ok, creep.” My eyes drifted over to the seats in the row ahead of us and across the aisle. Scott and Allison were sleeping in the same position that Stiles and I had just been in. I nudged Stiles with my elbow, pointing at the two.

“I bet they get together by the end of the trip.”

I shook my head slightly. “I bet they get together by the end of the first week.”

He looked over at me and stuck his hand out. “Oh, you’re on.” We shook on it, and then he let out a big yawn. “Now, I could use some more sleep. Can I have my pillow back?”

I rolled my eyes, but placed my head back on Stiles’ shoulder. I could feel him sigh as he placed his head on top of mine once more, and within moments we were both asleep again.

A few more hours later, we were sitting on a bus, driving through Rome at night. The ancient streets were lit up, and I caught glimpses of the historical monuments we were planning to see in the next couple weeks.

The bright lights were welcoming, as if the city were saying, Ciao, y/n. Benvenuto a Roma.

--

When we finally arrived at the hotel, Coach assembled us in the lobby to assign our rooms.

“Stilinski, you’re with Lahey,” Coach said, throwing the key at the brown-haired boy.

Stiles’ eyes, which had been roaming the room, snapped to look at Coach as he fumbled for the key. “W-what? Coach, can’t I just room with Scott or something?” I could hear the desperation in his voice, and it made me smirk.

“Stilinski, this isn’t a democracy. You’re rooming with Lahey, so deal. With. It.”

Without another word, Stiles nodded slowly, beginning to fiddle with the keys in his hands.

“Now, where was I? Hm...y/l/n, you’re with Martin.”

My jaw dropped. Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. “But Coach–”

“Didn’t you hear anything I just told Stilinski?” He said with an exasperated tone, bordering on angry.

Walking up to take the key from him, I nodded slowly just like Stiles had done. “Sorry.”

As soon as we got into the room, I could tell that rooming with Lydia Martin would be a nightmare.

“I’m taking the bed by the window. You don’t mind, do you?” She asked as she placed her bags on top of the bed.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I shrugged. “No, go ahead.”

As I was contemplating my sheer bad luck by being placed with the school’s resident mean girl, a knock on our door brought me out of my thoughts. “Hey, y/n? Can I show you something?” Seeing that Stiles had poked his head into our room, a grin spread across my face.

I took his outstretched hand and he quickly pulled me out of the room, leading me up a hidden staircase. When he opened the door at the top of the stairs, I was blown away by the beautiful landscape we could see from the roof.

“Woah...Stiles, how did you find this?”

I could see the mischievous glint in his eyes when he looked at me. “I’ll never reveal my secrets.”

We smiled at one another before turning to look out at the view. The glittering lights were sprawled out ahead of us, showing the endless possibilities awaiting us in the Eternal City.

“You know what, Stiles? I’m not going to let Lydia Martin get to me. Promise me something.” “Anything,” he said, turning to face me.

“Promise me that when we’re here, we’ll find adventures. Alright? This is our chance to start over – I mean, do anything that we want to do.”

A soft smile formed on his face. “Yeah, you’re right. You and me – adventures. Deal.”

--

The first thing on our itinerary was to visit the Trevi Fountain. As we stood admiring the architectural wonder, Coach stood behind us trying to read us information from a guidebook.

“Is this even English?”

“No, Coach. Some of the words are probably in Italian. Because, you know, we’re in Italy,” Stiles sarcastically responded, making me clap my hand to my mouth to stop the laughter from interrupting Coach’s attempt at pronouncing Italian names.

“Oh, right,” Coach said as he closed the book quickly. “Well, what I do know is that people come here to make wishes. I say that those people are suckers. But whatever, just throw your damn coins in and we can go and get gelato.”

I turned to look at my best friend. “Forget what he says. Make a wish!” I tried to hand Stiles a coin, but he pushed it back to me. “I’m in Rome with my best friend. I’m good. You make one.”

Smiling softly at the boy in front of me, I closed my eyes briefly to think about my wish. What did I really want? I want to find love. I took a deep breath and tossed the coin into the fountain.

When I opened my eyes, they briefly connected with the pair of whiskey brown ones of Stiles. There was something in them that I couldn’t really decipher, but before I could question it, he spoke up for me.

“So, should we catch up to Coach so we can get some of that gelato he’s been going on about?”

I nodded, and we slowly made our way to the nearest gelato shop, catching up with Scott and the rest of the group.

As I was about to enter the shop, I bumped into something hard and stumbled.

“Scusi,” I heard as I looked up and made eye contact with the most gorgeous Italian boy I’d ever seen. He was tall and fit, silky light brown curls sitting on top of his head. His blue eyes sparkled with interest. “Stai bene?”

I breathed out a quiet laugh. “Um, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Oh, you’re American?” I nodded. “What’s your name?”

“y/n.”

“y/n...bellissima. I’m Lorenzo.” He stuck his hand out to shake, and I gingerly took it.

“Nice to meet you.” I felt a slight nudge at my outstretched elbow, and I looked over to see Stiles gesturing me into the gelato shop. “Oh, sorry. I have to go,” I pulled my hand away and turned to follow Stiles, but Lorenzo stopped me once again.

“Wait! Can I see you again?” I was baffled. What were the odds that after making a wish that I would find someone who was interested in me?

“Oh, I’m on a school trip. I really don’t think I can–”

“Stilinski! y/l/n! Get inside. I’m doing a headcount. 16, 17,” Coach’s eyes found Lorenzo, and he narrowed them slightly. “And put your money in your front pockets,” he said before heading back inside.

I shrugged at Lorenzo in apology, but he just smiled. “Well, if you change your mind, meet me at the Trevi Fountain tomorrow at 9 am. I hope to see you there.”

--

The day went by in a blur of monuments and artifacts. That night, I was in Stiles’ room talking about the day’s events.

“So, are you going to see him tomorrow? Lorenzo?” Stiles asked, a slight edge in his voice.

I groaned and flopped back onto his bed. “I don’t know. I mean, I want to, but how would I even pull it off? Plus, we’re supposed to be going on adventures together!”

“There’s still time for us to have adventures. I want you to do what will make you happy.”

I looked over at him and smiled. “You know you’re the best, right?”

“Oh, I know,” he smirked as he leaned back on his elbows. “And you’re lucky that I come up with the best plans.”

--

“It’s definitely a fever,” the doctor leaning over me in bed said. “38.9 degrees.”

“38?” Coach asked. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s in Celsius, Coach,” I told him weakly.

He nodded slowly. “So, what does that mean for y/l/n?”

The doctor slowly began to pack up his bag. “Lots of rest. I would advise against sightseeing until the fever goes down.” He turned to me as he finished packing. “I’m sorry, signorina y/l/n.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Coach added. “It looks like you’re staying here today. Call the front desk if you need anything, okay?”

I coughed as I nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”

With an apologetic smile, he left my room to hop on the bus and head with the group to the next location on the itinerary.

I waited 20 minutes just to be safe before slipping out of my room and sneaking past the front desk to start my risky expedition.

The Trevi Fountain was crowded as it normally was. I weaved through the sea of people, searching for a familiar face.

“y/n!” I heard from somewhere to my right. I turned, meeting the piercing eyes of the Italian boy I was here for. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“I just had to figure out how to sneak out, but my friend Stiles helped me come up with a plan,” I told him. “Speaking of plans, what’s the plan for today?”

He smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Follow me.” I took his hand when he offered it to me, and he brought me to a side street where a baby blue Vespa was parked. “I thought I’d show you the city the way that we Italians travel.”

I couldn’t help but think of how the Vespa looked like the color of Stiles’ beloved Jeep. I had to shake my head slightly to clear my thoughts of Roscoe and my best friend.

“Sounds great!” I replied as Lorenzo handed me a helmet.

When we both had our helmets on and were perched on the Vespa, we were zipping through the streets of Rome.

I was holding on tight to him, and he’d point out cool spots and hidden gems around the city as we passed them. It was more than sightseeing – it was getting a local perspective on the ancient city.

Soon, we found ourselves walking through a farmers’ market and sitting down at a nearby café.

We learned more about each other over espresso. The conversation flowed naturally, and I loved getting to know him. I was in the middle of telling the story of when I met Stiles and Scott in the sandbox when we were four when a weird expression settled on Lorenzo’s face.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he assured me. “But that friend of yours, Stiles...is there something going on between the two of you?”

I was caught off guard by his question. “W-what? No, what makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “The way you talk about him...it’s clear that you love him.”

“Of course I love him. We’ve known each other our whole lives, and he’s my best friend. But I love him as a friend, and nothing more.”

Lorenzo nodded, turning my words over in his mind. “I see we’re both done with our espressos. Shall we?”

--

I spent the next day with Lorenzo too, faking sick once again to get past Coach. We took his Vespa, visiting the Spanish Steps–where we were almost caught because I forgot that it was on that day’s itinerary–, the Pantheon, and the Colosseum.

It was on the third day that Lydia knew something was up.

“I know you’re faking,” she said as she got ready in the morning. My jaw dropped at how casually she said it while applying a fresh coat of gloss to her lips.

“What? No, I’m not–”

“Oh, save it. You seem perfectly fine and only act sick when Coach comes to check on you. Plus, I heard Scott and Stiles talking about you yesterday.”

“Idiots,” I mumbled to myself. “Please don’t tell Coach.”

“Honey, why would I do that? I would never want to get in the way of you and this hot Italian boy Stiles mentioned.”

“Stiles mentioned him?”

She nodded. “He didn’t seem too happy though, and I think Scott was giving him advice about something but I couldn’t really tell what it was.”

Odd. Lydia glanced at her phone. “You should heat your head up soon. Coach should be coming in to check on you any minute now.”

“Thanks,” I said, still baffled by the fact that Lydia was helping me.

She gave me a quick wink as she opened the door to head down to the lobby. “Have fun today!”

Like clockwork, Lorenzo was waiting for me as soon as my school group left on the bus.

“Where are we going today?” I asked Lorenzo as I hopped on his Vespa the fourth day of my trip.

“The Tivoli Gardens,” he responded as we sped away from my hotel.

I was blown away by the beauty of the gardens. The lush greenery was accompanied by fancy water fountains, making me feel like I had been transported to another world.

On the surface, the day seemed perfect. But I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing – a spark, some banter, or maybe the presence of a certain brown-haired boy.

I tried to shake the thoughts from my head and focused all my energy on enjoying the fireworks that Lorenzo had brought me to see.

I should be experiencing this with Stiles.

--

“I had such an incredible day, Lydia,” I told the strawberry blonde as soon as I opened the door to our shared room, but when I looked at her, she had a nervous look on her face. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Something happened today.”

I took a seat on my bed, facing her. “Okay? What happened?” “Before we left, Coach was going to come back up to give you something but Stiles must have known that you’d already left. He covered for you, but...Coach is sending him home for breaking the rules.”

“What?” I jumped up from my seat. “This is a big mistake. Stiles can’t go home. I have to–” I ran out of the room, quickly making my way to Coach’s room even though I could hear Lydia calling for me.

A surprised-looking Coach opened the door after I pounded on it. “y/l/n! You’re up! Are you feeling better?”

“Please don’t send Stiles home. It’s my fault – he was covering for me,” I pleaded.

“Covering for you?”

I nodded. “I haven’t been sick. I’ve been faking it. I should be the one going home, not him.”

For once, Coach was speechless. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Do you realize what you’re admitting to, y/n?”

I nodded again. “I accept full responsibility for my actions.”

Coach was quiet again, obviously thinking about my punishment. I looked down at my feet as I waited for his judgement.

“You’re lucky I like you, y/n.”

My head snapped up to look at him. “What?”

“You’re also lucky that I’m not being paid enough to deal with this, and that you kids already graduated.”

“So…”

He sighed. “I’m not sending you or Stilinski home.”

Before I could stop myself, I rushed forward and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Coach!”

“But, when we get back to Beacon Hills, you’re going to have to help with summer lacrosse practice as punishment.”

I nodded furiously. “Absolutely. I’ll do anything.”

Coach patted my shoulder. “Good deal. Now go tell Stilinski to stop packing,” he said, waving me off.

“I will. Thanks again, Coach.”

Sighing in relief, I made my way over to Stiles’ room. I knocked rapidly, eager to tell Stiles the good news.

The door opened, and I found myself face-to-face with Isaac Lahey.

“Oh, hey, Isaac. Is Stiles here? Can I talk to him?”

He looked over his shoulder into the part of the room the door was blocking before turning back to me. “No, sorry.”

I narrowed my eyes. “No, he’s not here or no, I can’t talk to him?”

Isaac looked over his shoulder again. “I think it’s no, you can’t talk to him. He’s not too happy with you at the moment.”

“That’s totally understandable,” I nodded slowly. “Can you just tell him that he can stop packing? I told Coach the truth, so he’s not sending Stiles home.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Isaac said.

“Oh, and tell him I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble.”

“Sure thing, y/n,” he said before closing the door, leaving me standing in the hall with a heavy heart.

--

The next day was absolute hell. I’d accepted that Stiles was mad at me, but I wasn’t prepared for the silent treatment from him.

We were visiting the Vatican, but all I could watch was the way Stiles admired the art and architecture. His eyes lit up when he viewed the ancient art, and he hung onto every word our tour guide said with interest.

Is this what I missed by spending all my time with Lorenzo?

“He’ll come around, you know,” Scott said as he walked next to me in the Sistine Chapel. “He just needs some time and space.”

“I just feel so bad, Scott. Why would he take the fall for me?”

Scott laughed. “He’d do anything for you, even if it’s at the cost of his own happiness.”

I tilted my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

A small smile was on his face. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.” Without another word, he spotted Allison and left to catch up with her.

When we got back to the hotel after the long day of sightseeing, I was surprised to see Lorenzo leaning against his Vespa in front of the hotel. Stiles passed him before I did, but he just ignored him and made no indication that he’d seen him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I approached him. From over his shoulder I saw Lydia shoot me a wink and thumbs up, but I simply rolled my eyes.

“I was worried when you didn’t show up this morning. I thought we had plans to see the Piazza Navona?”

I groaned. “I’m sorry. I forgot to cancel. I got in trouble with my chaperone, so I had to stay with the group.”

“I understand,” he said, taking my hands in his. “What about tomorrow? I’d love to–”

Before he could finish his sentence, I cut him off. “Lorenzo, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, but…”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he sighed. “I’m not the one for you, am I?”

I considered his words for a minute. “No, you’re not. I’m sorry.”

Lorenzo nodded slowly before letting go of my hands. “Stiles is a very lucky man.”

I couldn’t even argue with him because in that moment, I knew he was right – Stiles was who I wanted to be with. “He’s not even talking to me right now.”

“He will,” he assured me. “He’d be crazy not to. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

My heart warmed at his statement. “Thank you, Lorenzo. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “È la vita. Ciao, y/n.”

“Bye, Lorenzo,” I said as he sped away on his Vespa.

--

I gave Stiles some time to cool off, but after a few days of radio silence, I was determined to talk to him.

“Isaac, do you know where Stiles is?” I asked when he opened the door, revealing a Stiles-less room.

He shrugged. “He left like half an hour ago and hasn’t been back since.”

I thanked him, but stood in the hallway alone for a bit trying to figure out where he could be. There was only one place that I thought he would be in this hotel if not in his room. I climbed the stairs to the roof and was relieved to find a familiar head of brown hair looking out at the Roman skyline.

“You won the bet,” he said without turning to look at me.

“What bet?” I asked as I gently approached the space next to him.

“Scott and Allison. He told me they kissed today.”

I nodded slowly. “Oh, good for them.”

“Yeah, good for them.” I could hear the bitterness in his voice.

“Stiles, I don’t care about the stupid bet. I care about you. About us. I’m sorry you took the fall for me, but please talk to me. Let me make it up to you.”

After a moment of silence, he asked, “How?”

“What?”

“How would you make it up to me?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “By spending the rest of this trip with you. By going on adventures with you.”

He shook his head slightly. “What would Lorenzo think about that?”

“It doesn’t matter. I ended it with him. We’re done.”

Stiles hadn’t looked at me the whole time we’d been talking, but it was at this statement that he finally looked at me with his warm brown eyes. “What? Why? Did he do something because I swear to God if he hurt you–”

I laughed at his overprotectiveness. “No, Stiles. God no, he didn’t hurt me. I just realized that he wasn’t the one for me. I couldn’t enjoy my time with him without thinking about how much I’d rather be with you.”

He let out a breath of relief, but I could hear it get caught in his throat. “Me? Why me?”

I sighed. No going back now. “Because I love you, dumbass.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. He didn’t say anything for a minute, and in the silence, I started to regret my decision to tell him about my feelings. Did I misread his feelings for me? Maybe he just sees me as a friend–

I was jerked out of my thoughts by Stiles smashing his lips onto mine in a passionate kiss.

My head was cradled in his hands, and soon my hands found his body, pulling him closer to me. The moment our lips touched, it felt right. I knew I had found the love that I asked the fountain for–I just didn’t realize that it was right in front of me all along.

When my lungs started burning from a lack of oxygen, I felt Stiles pull away slightly, disconnecting our lips. His hands still held my face. “I love you too, y/n. Always have, always will.”

[earlgreydream]

the garden.

| 1940s!bucky barnes x reader | fluff | mild angst |

You walked home from work, seeing your new neighbor, Bucky Barnes, leaning against the wall of his house. His arrogant smirk appeared as you walked up the path to your door, scrunching your nose at the sight of him. 

James Buchanan Barnes was irritating. The first day he’d moved in, he and his friends were loud until the early hours of the morning, drunkenly shouting along with his record player. Then, his drunk friends had walked through your garden, trampling half of your flowers and some vegetables. And he was always outside with his stupid smirk, thinking his pretty face was enough to win you over. 

Bucky was also gorgeous, and the worst part was, he knew it. You’d seen him in town flirting with girls in the market, and everywhere he went. Even your friends all fought for his attention. When they’d come over, you’d sit outside on your porch and they would all wave to him and giggle. He greeted them, chattering with the blushing and giggling girls who fell at his feet. You always rolled your eyes and ignored him, unamused.

Bucky was fascinated by you, the only girl to never fall for his charm. He was charismatic and had every girl at his fingertips that he had ever wanted. He knew that the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, and you despised his smoking habit. However, he had made it his goal to win you back over, but you had proven to be stubborn. You were a challenge, and Bucky was determined.

“Hey doll.” He greeted you as you stepped up onto your porch.

“It’s Y/N.” You scowled at him, and he said your name, winking at you.

He checked you out, admiring you in your high waisted pants and button down. You shook your head at him, going inside your house, closing the door. You put your grocery bag down and started to make dinner, when you saw Bucky on your porch. You groaned and opened your window, looking at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“My stove is out of gas. Could you put me up for dinner?” He gave you a boyish grin, rocking on his heels.

“Why would I do that?”

“To be neighborly,” he suggested.

“C’mon. Because I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow?” Bucky tried again.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Y/N, the stores are closed, it’s late.”

“Fine. Get in here.” You gave in, shaking your head and shutting the window. He waltzed through the front door, looking too pleased with himself.

“Plus, I brought a gift!” He held up a bottle of rosé.

“So you can get drunk and ruin my flowers again?”

“I apologized for that. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” You said, not convincing him or yourself. 

“Where’re your glasses?” He asked, and you pulled a cabinet open, stirring your pot of pasta. He pulled down two glasses and filled them.

“Maybe I don’t drink.”

“You do, this is your favorite wine. I’ve seen you drinking it on the porch swing at least twice.” Bucky called you out.

“Oh, so you stalk me?” You accused. 

“No, you just sit outside all the time.” 

He lifted the glass to his lips, smiling behind the rim. You drank from your own, needing it in order to deal with him. You noticed his dog tags, resting against his skin with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He caught you staring, but he held eye contact, wanting to make you blush. 

“You fight in the war?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“I will. I haven’t been deployed yet. Me and my friend Steve recruit here, but we’ll go with the next team.”

“Where will you go?”

“Germany, maybe. Or Poland.” 

You hummed, thinking that Bucky didn’t seem like the military type. You supposed it was his duty though, and he didn’t want to be labeled as a draft dodger. You strained the noodles and mixed them with the sauce, serving him a plate. Bucky thanked you, taking a seat at your tablecloth. 

“Hey, get down, Pepper.” You scolded your cat that jumped onto his lap. You apologized and he smiled, petting her head.

“She has no manners. Push her off,” 

“She’s fine. I don’t mind.” He smiled, and your cat jumped onto the floor, prowling for dropped food. You ate quietly, ignoring his silver gaze. 

“How long have you lived here?” He made conversation.

“Since I left my parents’ house when I was sixteen,” 

“That’s awful young. Why?”

You didn’t answer, pouring yourself another glass of wine, and he tilted his glass for more. You emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass, earning a thank-you. 

“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

“I’m absolutely buying you dinner. We’ll go out, to Brooklyn.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Is there any way to get out of it?” You asked.

“I’m afraid not.” 

“You’re an amazing cook.” Bucky complimented, standing and taking your empty plates before you could.

“Thanks. I got that-”

“No, you cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He turned on your sink and began to wash everything, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You watched him, biting back a small smile. 

“I’ll just be getting out of your hair. Have a goodnight, doll.” 

You rolled your eyes, closing the door after him. You picked up your cat and held her, watching him walk across the lawn. He waved at you when he saw you watching through the window, and you shut the curtains.

You came home the next day, tired and annoyed from work. You were in a bad mood, and you just wanted to relax.

“James?” You stopped when you saw him kneeling in your yard.

“Y/N, you’re home.”

“Why the hell are you in my yard?!” You demanded, opening the gate. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I was replanting your flowers.” He said, kneeling in your garden. 

Your eyebrows shot up as you saw the rows of freshly planted daffodils, and you walked over to him slowly. 

“Thank you.” You were impressed, and he leaned back on his heels. 

“I’m... I can’t take you out like this. Let me change, then we can go for our dinner?” He smiled down at himself, dirt and grass staining his pants.

You nodded, hiding your smile behind your hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You shook your head, watching him go toward his house. You went inside and quickly changed your own clothes, into wide white pants and a yellow button down. You fixed your makeup, and went to meet him on the porch. You bit your lip, smiling as you opened the door to find him standing with a bouquet of daisies.  

“Bucky...” You couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“I thought you’d like them. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s working.” You whispered before putting the flowers in a vase. You walked to his car with him, and he opened the door for you, being so charming.

Bucky lived to see your smile. When he finally earned it with the flowers, warmth erupted in his chest and spread through him. He had truly felt bad about your garden and spent the whole afternoon replanting it for you. He drove you into the city, music playing softly on the radio.

“Where are we going?”

“New York pizza, Y/N,” Bucky looked proud of himself.

“That sounds amazing.” You confessed, your stomach growling. You’d missed lunch at work, and you were starving. 

“Pizza is my favorite.” 

“Mine too!” Bucky announced, and you giggled at that. He turned and smiled at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than it usually did. 

You arrived at the pizza place, following Bucky inside. He put his hand on your lower back, and you felt the butterflies again. 

“What would you like?” 

“Margherita pizza. I’m a classic girl.”

“Perfect.” He ordered for the two of you, leaning against the bartop while you waited.

“We’ll take it to go.”

“We’re not eating here?” You asked, confused, and he shook his head. 

“Got a better idea.” Bucky winked at you, taking the pizza box once it was done. 

“Can you take this for a second, doll?” He asked, handing it to you as we stood outside. You took it from him, and he leaned into his car, pulling out a blanket before taking the pizza. He nodded for you to follow, and you walked a few blocks down to a park, where he spread the blanket. You were beaming as you sat down beside him, the glow of the street lights and the stars making him look impossibly more attractive. 

“You’ve outdone yourself.” You smiled, biting into a slice of pizza. He looked pleased, and the two of you found yourselves talking until the streets were silent. You were sitting in front of him, when he leaned forward, kissing you. You kissed him back, threading your fingers into his dark hair, letting him move you onto his lap. His tongue pushed past your lips, your mouths moving in sync. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Bucky asked, surprising you. You were blushing furiously, and you almost said no, but the feeling his words gave you, made your heart race.

“Yes, James.” You pecked his lips and he grinned into the kiss.

That was how you and Bucky ended up spending most of your time together. He helped you tend to your garden, and you taught him about the plants. You were a botanist with a green thumb, and he was in awe of your tender care of your plants. Every night in the following weeks was spent with the two of you gently rocking on your porch swing, drinking coffee, listening to records, or making out. Either that, or you were listening to him read on the couch or in your bed. 

You and Bucky had been together for almost two months, when he came home late from work one evening when it was nearing October. You were waiting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching for his car to roll in. 

“James!” You called, and he walked up to you. 

“Hey, doll.” He leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You looked up at him, and your gaze meeting with sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Worry filled you, and he sat down next to you. 

“I’m getting deployed. We leave in two weeks.” He breathed, and your heart fell into pieces. 

“I’ll wait for you.” You said finally.

“Y/N, you could be waiting for years, or I may not make it back.”

“Don’t say that!” You cried. 

“It’s the truth--” 

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and you shook your head. You climbed onto his lap and clung to him, gripping his shirt and crying into his shoulder. He rubbed your back and held you on the porch. 

“I want to get married, before you go.” You said, and he turned your face to look at him.

“Doll, you can’t mean that.”

“No, I do. Marry me. Marry me and promise you’ll come back for me.” You touched his face, and he brushed tears from your cheeks. 

“I will marry you, and I will fight every single day to come home to you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you.”

For months, you and your cat waited on your porch, the cool metal dog tags resting against your sternum. A box of his letters sat on your bedside table, telling you how much he missed you, and loved you, and he wanted to come home to his beautiful wife. All of your friends thought you were mad for marrying a man you’d only dated a few months, the week before he went off to war. A star hung in your window, and every day was spent waiting. Your garden flourished, pumpkins growing as autumn approached. The nights you spent outside began to grow colder, and you waited.

When you saw him, it was like fireworks exploded inside of you. He was tired, he looked wartorn, and he was definitely more muscular. You screamed, tossing your blanket off of you, and running. You jumped over the fence, making him laugh. You threw your arms around him, and he caught you as you jumped into his arms. He held you tightly and spun you around, planting a deep kiss to your lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” 

You were crying as Bucky held you, overwhelmed with joy to see him. You didn’t sleep that night, or the next few. 

[thebrightsessions]

Entertainment Spotlight: Ian McQuown

Ian is an LA based actor and producer known for the YouTube comedy group, Extremely Decent, as well as a voice actor in the popular audio dramas: The Bright Sessions, The AM Archives, StarTripper!! & Deck The Halls! His credits inclue American Housewife, Trial & Error, Better Things, and For All Mankind. Ian took the time to answer some questions for us. Check it out:

You’ve worked on multiple podcasts -- what drew you to the medium?

Well, to be honest, Lauren drew me to it because TBS was my first narrative podcast. We met at a Rocky Horror Picture Show show. Anna Lore is our mutual friend and I think Anna is just talented as all get out, so anything she’s involved I want to be in. And, I don’t know, it was just one of those lucky breaks you get where a door opens and takes you to all these cool places you never anticipated.

On podcasting though, I really appreciate how much more possible it is to tell engaging stories without the boundaries of having to afford a set and a camera and insurance and etc etc etc. Like, I grew up with Star Wars, The Matrix, Cowboy Bebop— so when I imagine the stories I like, I’m usually picturing other worlds, space ships, people with super powers and those types of stories used to have a lot higher barrier to entry to make than they do now, which is just awesome.

If you could give a character from The Bright Sessions a spinoff series, who would you choose and what would the series be called?

I mean, no surprises here, but I’d love to see Damien’s early years. And I’d be super clever and call it something like... Damien: The Early Years. I'm dying for that content a little bit actually: Damien, before he became such a bad guy. Maybe a love story that doesn’t work out and leaves him really scarred? Villains so bad they created a villain instead of a victim—  that moment where we see the two roads Damien has to choose between and it totally shreds us when he makes the choice we all know he’s going to make, I mean, come ON you can see that, right? It’d be like the Star Wars prequels but without all the youngling killing and “NOOOOOOOO”’s and I want it.

Can you share a fun story or anecdote from the making of The Bright Sessions?

Haha, ok well it’s not really anything of note BUT: I remember Lauren had this area rug in her room, which as you probably know is where we would record, and it was this really nice, I think, red sort of floral rug that took up pretty much all the floor space because it was covering up the older apartment rug-floor underneath it. And it was, as I said, really cool, except it wasn’t a rug on a wood floor, right? It was a rug on a rug so it was a bit taller than the people who designed the room had planned for— the result of which was that you’d walk in and the room had this really awesome little vibe with this cute rug, and it was all very cozy, unless you looked directly behind you at the corner where the door had just spent ages scraping the surface of it, catching the corner, tearing little pieces out. And I may be getting apocryphal at this point, but I feel like by the time I had started coming around Lauren had straight up duct taped it to the floor, which really didn’t help the problem. And, I don’t know—again it’s not really anything momentous—but I just remember giving Lauren a particular amount of shit about it one day and us all having a really good laugh. And I really love that— there are jobs where you show up, keep your head down, do your work and leave, but then there are jobs like The Bright Sessions where you all get to become friends, and even if you don’t see each other for a while you sort of just get to pick up where you left off. And then those jobs turn into other jobs and you get to keep hanging out with your friends and peers and just making stuff you like— I’m a big fan of that.

If your life was a choose your own adventure, what decisions would viewers have to make on an average day?

OKAY, you wake up...

Water your garden before it gets to be 110 today, you cannot skip this step. You may however:

A) Stay out in the garden for longer if you get inspired and check if the tomatoes and peppers are ripe for picking.

Great! Now let’s make breakfast:

A) Make eggs, toast, fried tomatoes, and hash browns? 

B) Make (A) But also with Bacon? 

C) Make a smoothie?

D) There’s no time today, run to Whole Foods and get their incredibly priced $6 Egg, Bacon Cheese Breakfast burrito.

Awesome! You’ve eaten and now you can think. What work do you have to do?

A) Prep your audition, dummy! It’s due this afternoon, go fix your hair. 

B) You have a zoom meeting with actor friends at 11 to play around with some new material, put on a hat.

C) There is nothing you have to work on so stare at your computer and wonder if there’s new project you could be working on. Try to find that project, leave your hair as it.

Wow! You really had a great (insert previous choice here), let’s get you a coffee and take a TV break. What should we watch?!

A) That new show you haven’t seen yet because you need to watch everything so you know how to work on it should you get an audition for it.

B) Harley Quinn (your favorite new cartoon).

C) Teenage Bounty Hunters.

D) Farscape.

E) Nope, you just got an audition for tomorrow, everything is off the table, start working on it (Level Complete).

Lunch Time!!!

A) Turkey sandwich with pickles from the garden?

B) Trader Joe’s Margherita Pizza with basil and peppers from the garden?

C) Are we going to start another loaf of sourdough you basic mf?

D) Yes we probably are, but also (A) and (B).

Cool! I’ve eaten lunch. Now what?

A) You haven’t finished that work from this morning. Riiiight.

B)…More Harley Quinn…?

C) Let’s make pasta from scratch!

D) Let’s make ribs! From…ribs!

F) You just got an audition for tomorrow, everything is off the table, start working on it. (Level Complete).

Bangarang! You probably chose to start cooking dinner immediately after eating lunch. You ate it (and it rocked), what now?

A) You just got an audition for tomorrow, everything is off the table, start working on it. (Level Complete)

B) DnD with squad.

C) Go on a run, dude— you’re getting a Jaba chin….

D) Bring on the chin! Let’s watch TV until 2am! Here are your options:

A) Harley Quinn (your new favorite cartoon)

B) Teenage Bounty Hunters

C) Farscape

D) Put The Office on in the background and clean your house.

Level Complete.

As you can see I’m a very food-focused person. Also, I’m going to be real, that is truly what most of my days look like and I’m low-key a little mortified that ’taking a shower’ wasn’t a game option... 

Can you share your favorite piece of Bright Sessions / AM Archives fan art?

I love all the fan art that people make for my characters but this one from Franartz has always been really special to me. It’s so GQ, I just love it — and some of my favorite early AG moments are with Damien, who looks a little like he stepped out of a Gorrilaz album here— big fan. I’m a little obsessed with fan art actually, I save everything I come across— there’s a freckled red-headed series of Owen by TheFigureInTheCorner that makes me really happy. Seeing that my work has inspired someone else to make something of their own is really what’s up, you know? It makes me think about all the art and entertainment that has touched me over the years and I get a lot of joy from being a part of that cycle.

Thanks for taking the time, Ian! Give I Can Die When I'm Done a relisten right here.

[no-need-to-demonstrate]

Headcanon request: Sides in a shopping mall?

Ok!

The Sides in a Shopping Mall

Logan

Hauling Virgil away from the Hot Topic

Prefers not to go. Amazon is so much cheaper.

Sits in Barnes and Noble

Might go get a pretzel

"Meet me in Barnes and Noble by the nonfiction novel section at 5pm or you are not getting a ride home."

Tries to set up a buddy system amongst the sides

No one wants to be Logan's buddy

Gets enthralled by all the books

SO MANY BOOKS AND SO LITTLE TIME TO READ THEM ALL

Oh no I bought too many books

Doesn't want to go anywhere else in the mall

Okay fine, he likes the nerdy stores where they have Star Wars and Star Trek.

Roman

Literally has to go to every single store in the mall

Wants to buy so many things

Has so many ideas for all those things

From Thomas' perspective, Roman in the mall is like a creative extravaganza at 2 in the morning

Massage chairs

Would max out his credit card if entrusted with one (pls don't max out a credit card in real life)

The Disney store is his favorite, but he also likes, including but absolutely not limited to, JC Penny, Macy's, and H&M, to name.. All of the stores in the flipping mall

Medieval style store? Yes sir

Is a kiosk magnet. Pull him away, hurry before he pays for a $20 phone case that doesn't even work D:

Wants to try virtual reality

Wants to do the karaoke machine

Wants to do EVERYTHING

They can't find Roman at the end, so he ends up missing his ride home

Looks at cooking tools

Patton

Would get lost in the mall. Multiple times.

Loooves the food court, especially pizza, pasta, and Cinnabon.

Wants to try all the little food kiosks

Likes to look at unique collectors items from around the world, like in Stuff From Afar. He and Janus buddy up to look in there.

Drags Logan to look at baby Yoda in the Disney Store because STAR WARS AND HE'S SO CUTE

Usually sticks to Roman like glue. They run around all over the place while Virge tags along

He pretty much goes with the flow, where everyone else goes.

Wants to find a present for everyone

Virgil

HotTopicHotTopicHotTopicHotTopicHotTopic

Hot Topic discounts? Sales? Anything?

Is always on the hunt for a darker eyeshadow

He and Remus look at eyeshadow together

Really likes video game stores and VR

Also massage chairs

Likes looking at the mall fountain

He and Roman could do virtual reality for hours, but Patton's really bad at it

The see-through elevator gives him the heebie jeebies

Is anti-kiosks. Avoid the kiosk people at all costs.

Doesn't Vans have skateboards?

Anyway, he likes the stores with a hipster vibe

Secretly wants a stuffed animal from the claw machine.

Goes to Build-a-Bear with Patton "begrudgingly and so he doesn't get lost again"

Also likes Cinnabon

If he goes to Barnes and Noble, it's mostly for the coffee lol

Remus

Would try to go up the down escalator

…there's people on the escalator

Roman and Remus both make Shakira tik toks on the escalator

Puts on a white morphsuit, acts like a mannequin, and scares people. Specifically at Hot Topic

ESCALATOR

He and Roman would race to see who can get to the top faster

Just imagine him and Roman running in circles on the escalator for a good 20 minutes

Swims in the mall fountain to collect all the coins (whoulda guessed?)

Jump scares mall shoppers to assert dominance

Causes mall chaos until he's grounded by Patton to sit by Logan

While he's grounded in Barnes and Noble, he puts 50 Shades of Gray in the children's section

Janus

Makes a master plan to take over the mall

"I have 2 hours to make an empire!"

Step one: scare people, disguised as mannequins, to assert dominance

Really likes unique collector's items and books

Is the Lord of the kiosks

Makes a profit off the kiosks (Janus really said STONKS)

Step two: look like a rich, fancy person buying things at JC Penney

Also spends a lot of time in Barnes and Noble

Traded or handed-down items. I'm thinking vintage radio-esque stuff that he can resell.

Gambling machines and wineries

He likes that one place where there's lots of bread and you can taste all the fancy oil

Also massage chairs

Wants a discount

Bargain with the kiosk people who?

Leaves with, like, $5 profit

[jensonsbuttons]

hello hello!!! I was tagged by some wonderful people: @lewixco @torygeorge @shoeydaniel @pierreswrists  @seriously-sebvettel

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs (warning i will not be doing 20 but hey ya know)

1. Name/nickname: Katie!!! 

2. Gender: female

3. Star sign: cancer sun and moon!!!

4. Height: 5′8″ but someone once measured 5′9″ and i’ve never let it go so...yeah. one of those.

5. Time: 12:32pm

6. Birthday: july 14 :D 

7. Favorite bands/groups: imagine dragons, ABBA, Bad Suns, Hippo Campus, Fleetwood Mac, etc.

8. Favorite solo artists: Maggie Rogers, lorde, etc. (idk honestly??? but those two lovely ladies show up quite often in my ‘on repeat’)

9. Song stuck in your head: This Was a Home Once by Bad Suns

10. Last movie: The Social Network (2010) Dir. David Fincher (i mean....if you know me, who is really shocked?)

11. Last tv show: Fell asleep to new girl last night if that counts?

12. When did I create this blog: approx. july 2020 maybe??? can’t remember but it was sometime not too long after the season started.

13. What do I post: all f1 on here so you all are stuck with my dumb thoughts on the fast cars :)))

14. Last thing I googled: f1 schedule cause i tried to figure out when i made my blog lol

15. Other blogs: my main!! @pauldeyoung its basically just....everything else non f1? so shit posts, some baseball when it gets back, some hockey, some pedro pascal, just.....everything

16. Do I get asks: uhhh no lol not a lot unless i post one of those ask games.

17. Why I chose this url: jeepers for cancer king daniel ricciardo. latifi for cancer king nicholas latifi :D

18. Following: not a lot?? maybe 100 and tbh that keeps my dash pretty busy with some good content!

19. Followers: around 270 for this blog i believe

20. Average hours of sleep: don’t even go there. don’t know anymore.

21. Lucky number: not necessarily lucky but numbers i use for sports or often if people ask me to pick a number: 5, 6, 26, 27

22. Instrument: to play? guitar. to listen to? piano.

23. What am I wearing: some black leggings, a t shirt and a hoodie over it cause hoodie season :D

24. Dream job: would like to be a coach somewhere!!! or just involved in sports in some higher up fashion, pro or not. (so like management levels not ticket sales. not that i would mind. just isn’t me) i like a sporty atmosphere! its always appealed to me.

25. Dream trip: dunk me in the mediterranean and leave me there on a boat for a while. i’ll be good.

26. Favorite food: pizza? pasta? chicken? don’t know. i like lots of food but those foods i eat a lot.

27. Nationality: american :(((

28. Favorite song: *shakes magic 8 ball* ask again later. changes day to day but right now lets go with either bambi or buttercup by hippo campus.

29. Last book I read: How to Be An F1 Driver by Jenson Button. You heard that right. I read a book for the moron. Me!! someone who usually doesn’t read.

30. Top three fictional worlds: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh percy jackson, star wars and idk???????? the fictional world where 2020 was better and we all travelled and were happy

i will go ahead and tag: @eight-hearts @pierrelli @neonastronaut @4xmulti21champion @russellscuffle @danielthicciardo @nowherebound @ricciardos (if you’ve been tagged in this or don’t wanna do it, do not worry!!!!!)

[winterromanov]

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

-

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

-

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

-

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow. 

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

-

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

-

hello y/n 

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally 

whenever ur not ar oUnd 

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there 

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo 

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

-

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

-

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure. 

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner. 

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal. 

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

-

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

-

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time. 

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home. 

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

:)

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

my masterlist

send me a request

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 20

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 10,096

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

Turns out once you've smooched a guy on the nose, things like holding his hand and other such minor displays of affection no longer seem so daunting.

Sure, even as I reached for his hand now, some small amount of mental self-cheerleading was still required in order to work myself up to it. And okay, the tiny flutter in my chest when my fingers brushed against his almost had me pulling back faster than you could say 'emotion-phobia.' But I didn't. And hey, this was way more than I could have brought myself to do even just a few short days ago. This was kind of huge for me, so I think I'd earned the right to take a little pride in my headway so far. Who knew, I just might pull off my half of this whole pretend dating deal yet.

Lea glanced down at my touch. Then he grinned, pulling my hand up to press a soft kiss to the back of it before setting it back down on the dinner table, his thumb trailing light circles along my knuckles. Picking right back up where he'd left off in the conversation, he said, "Oh yeah, GUMMI ships got all sorts of badass tech going on now, the likes of which would put both Star Trek and Star Wars to shame. Super, ultra, mega-laser cannons, impenetrable force fields, swarms of nanobots that can repair any and all damage just like that," he snapped his fingers. Lea then planted an elbow on the table and leaned forward to add in a conspiratorial whisper, "They even have defense systems in the form of giant, exploding space duckies."

Saïx gave him a flat look from where he sat on the other side of the table from us. "Not true."

"Sure it is!" Lea chirped, straightening back up in his chair. "I mean, how else are they gonna fight all those aliens out there?"

Propping my cheek in my free palm, I cocked an eyebrow at him as I felt an upward tug at one corner of my lips. "Aliens? As in little green men?"

"No, no, that'd just be silly," he waved off with a scoff. "As in lil shadow men. Creepy bastards with big, yellow eyes and twitchy antennae." Still holding my hand, he brought both of his own up to either side of his head, miming said antennae with his index fingers.

Closing his eyes, Saïx gave a low sigh into his wine glass. "Also not true."

Lea shrugged, "Oh sure, they're not all like that. There was that blue one they found over in Hawaii, what was its code name again… Experiment 626? Yeah, the government got that one covered up real fast. And don't even get me started on the total dreadnought that is Schwarzgeist lurking out there somewhere in the night sky that absolutely obliterated the USS Endymion."

"The sheer amount of not true you are spouting off right now is positively staggering," Saïx deadpanned, eyelids drooping as he dabbed his napkin to his mouth. "You really need to stop staying up late every night reading all those conspiracy theories out there on the internet."

Lips curling into an evil smirk, Lea said, "But how else am I gonna royally piss you off so much?"

That earned him a small scowl from his brother.

This was basically it. The whole evening in a nutshell from the moment I'd stepped foot into Lea's apartment. Like me, it seemed that Saïx was not much of a talker, at least not amongst strangers. Unlike me however, it appeared to have less to do with social anxiety and more like he just plain wasn't a fan of the whole talking thing and so only did it when he deemed it absolutely necessary. Which I could totally respect. It was just that between the two of us, it had a tendency to leave a bit of a void in the conversation every now and then. Luckily, it was void that Lea was only too happy to fill.

Saïx had been the one to cook dinner. It seemed that that was part of the breakdown of chores in their living arrangement: he usually handled supper while breakfast was Lea's job. Saïx and I had already emptied our plates by now while Lea was still working on his, seeing as how he was otherwise preoccupied with talking a mile a minute. The meal had been a very nice chicken bruschetta pasta paired with a red wine from a fancy looking bottle. The latter I'd thought to be a bit of an odd choice, as I didn't picture Lea being much of a wine drinker. But there he was, sipping away at it, pinkie raised as he did so for an added bit of flair. I guess he just wasn't picky and would drink whatever was put in front of him. I, on the other hand, had decided not to partake. Would rather keep a clear head during this bit of subterfuge we were playing out in front of Saïx.

The point was, there was wine. And wine equaled a wine tipsy Lea. And a wine tipsy Lea, as I was discovering, equaled a chatty Lea. The boy was already chatty to begin with, but this was an all new level. This was chatty on steroids. Needless to say, he was having no trouble whatsoever keeping the conversation rolling.

"Why are we even discussing the GUMMI space program again?" Saïx asked in his bored monotone.

Lea drove his fork down into his pasta, twirling it around. "You know you're always a total slut for outer space, man. The moon and constellations and all that crap is your jam."

"Yes, but our guest," he gestured towards me, "might not find the topic nearly so interesting."

Trailing a finger along the rim of my still full wine glass, I said, "Actually, I've been fascinated by the research their lead mechanical scientist Cid Highwind has been doing in the field of warping technology. With his help, it might not be long before our ships can travel to other solar systems."

Both men just blinked silently at me for a moment.

What? So I liked to keep up on current events by reading a news article every now and again online. It really was not a big deal.

Saïx was the one to speak up first. "Yes. It's said Highwind is hoping to have a working prototype in less than five years."

Do my eyes deceive me? Was that the hint of a smile ghosting over Saïx's mouth?

Oh wow, I think I'd managed to score some points.

...not that it mattered, of course. Since this was only a fake relationship, after all, so getting in the brother's good graces didn't really mean all that much to me. Not one bit. Nope.

Nuzzling his nose to my ear, Lea beamed, "Hell yeah! My baby knows shit!"

"More than you do at least," Saïx sniffed blandly.

Expression relaxing into a sly grin now, he shot back, "I know enough to know about an astral sea monster whose sheer mass is gargantuan enough to blot out the very sun, the terror of the cosmos, eater of spacecrafts and destroyer of worlds, the dreaded galactic space whale," he paused for dramatic effect before splaying a hand out before him as he intoned in hushed reverence, "...Monstro."

Saïx grumbled under his breath and facepalmed.

"By my count, that's the eighth time he's done that tonight," Lea stage whispered to me. "Just five more and I'll have beat my all-time record."

I gave a low hum of amusement. "I suppose it's important to have goals in life."

He snorted, returning his attention to his food as he scooped a forkful into his mouth. I noticed that he'd incidentally stained one side of his lips in the process and I had a brief flashback to a familiar scene of Sora and Kairi. Of the pair of them sitting in the food court and Kairi kissing away a similarly located blotch on her boyfriend. Now that right there had been a seriously advanced dating technique and one I was in no way ready to try out myself. You kidding me? I was still very much a beginner here and the very idea of trying to pull off such a maneuver already had my ears turning pink. That said, a newbie like me still had some options, especially with my newfound ability to make the first move and actually touch my (fake) boyfriend without completely spazzing out.

I tucked in my lower lip, hesitating briefly as my pulse thudded a little more loudly against my eardrums. But then I slowly lifted my hand.

Lea visibly stiffened as he felt my thumb brush at the corner of his mouth, wiping the smudge away. As I began to retract my arm however, he dropped his fork to snatch my wrist and stop me. I arched an eyebrow at him. He smiled back with hooded eyes. Then he gently tugged my thumb up to his lips and licked the sauce off it.

Breath hitching, I yanked my hand free of his grasp. His smile just turned smug as he winked at me.

Apparently, Wine Tipsy Lea had even less boundaries than usual.

As I wiped my thumb with a napkin and ducked my head to hide my boiling cheeks, I heard Saïx mutter, "One has to wonder what a woman of your obvious intelligence and sophistication even sees in an asinine clown such as my brother."

"Well let me think about it," Lea's eyes danced as he folded his hands together, steepling his index fingers so the joined tips touched his mouth. "Perhaps it's my devilish charm and debonair good looks?"

"Oh come now," he said cooly with another sip of his wine, "if you're going to be making things up, you should attempt to make them at least halfway credible."

"He makes me laugh," I suddenly heard myself saying. As both pairs of eyes turned towards me, I immediately felt self-conscious. I mean seriously, what a stupid, cliché thing to say. But that didn't make it any less true, any less… meaningful. I wasn't someone who laughed a lot. In fact, before I'd run out on my wedding, I could probably count the number of times I'd laughed in the last year on one hand.

Fidgeting with my fingers, I pushed forward, "He's sweet… and thoughtful. And genuine. He's not afraid to be himself. And because of that, I find it easier to be… myself... around him." Another thing that did not come easy to me.

As Lea slipped an arm around my shoulders so he could pull me closer and plant a swift peck to my temple, Saïx gave a soft harrumph, "Well, I guess there's no accounting for taste."

"Psst, Saïx," Lea lowered his voice, bending forward over the table and cupping a hand to his mouth. "The moon landing was faked."

With a heavy sigh through his nose, he merely rose from his chair and started gathering the plates and silverware together. As he reached for mine, I protested, "No, that's okay, I can take care of it."

"You're the guest," he said simply as he swiped it up in one smooth motion.

"Best not argue, otherwise he might unleash his berserker wrath on you," Lea sniggered to me. However, when Saïx next took his plate away (still with food on it), he snapped, "Hey! I wasn't done with that!"

"Then you should have eaten faster," he responded dryly.

He stuck his tongue out at him. "Oh yeah? Well the earth is flat." As Saïx turned towards the kitchen, the plates stacked in his hand "accidentally" smacked into Lea's forehead, forcing a small grunt out of him.

I hid a grin behind my hand as Lea pressed his fingertips to the fresh sore spot with a soft tch. Then he downed the rest of his wine as he stood up himself, gathering the other glasses between his fingers on one hand while balling up napkins together in the other. He looked at me, face brightening, "Why don'tcha go on and take a seat in the living room. I'll join ya after I finish helping Saïx clean up."

"Alright," I nodded. He used a hand (the one stuffed full of napkins) to pull my seat out as I stood and gave him a tiny smile before moving past him. Reaching the blue sofa, I moved some of its mismatched pillows to clear a space and took a seat on the far end, tugging the hem of my dress down to cover my knees as I listened to the sound of running water and clinking dishware coming from the kitchen.

I didn't have to wait long before the boys were rejoining me. Lea came bounding over first, plopping himself unceremoniously down onto the couch with me.

Leaving one whole cushion space between us.

I furrowed my brow over at him. However, I did not have to wonder for long at his unexpected seating choice.

For next thing I knew, he'd flopped over onto his side and was using my lap as a makeshift pillow.

My eyes widened and I jolted, one hand going to my chest. His cheek nestled against my leg as one hand went to my knee, his thumb tracing lightly along its top curve over the fabric. "Mmm… you're comfy!" he sighed contentedly.

It was official. Wine Tipsy Lea had absolutely zero boundaries.

Halfway into taking a seat into a maroon armchair to our right, Saïx stopped. Then he straightened back up to his full height with a tired, drawn-out huff. "Perhaps some coffee would be in order."

I gradually relaxed, my eyes crinkling as I glanced down at Lea with a resigned smile. He was like a kitten cuddling into my lap. A really big kitten. I half expected him to start purring. "Perhaps that might be for the best," I murmured in agreement.

My eyes lifted long enough to follow Saïx as he made his way back over towards their kitchen, long blue hair swaying behind him as he went. When I looked back down, I realized with a tiny start that one of my hands had taken it upon itself to start lightly stroking Lea's hair.

Huh. How did that cheeky little devil get there?

I should stop.

But it was just so very... soft. Softer than I remembered. So soft that it felt like I was doing something wrong, something… forbidden by daring to touch it.

...okay, I really, really needed to stop.

...ten seconds. Just ten more measly, innocent seconds, then I'd stop.

There was a low, pleased hum in Lea's throat as my fingers continued to slowly run through his fiery locks. Then he rolled over onto his back, capturing my hand with his to press a gentle kiss into my palm. It tickled and my heart stuttered as I felt a familiar heat creeping up my neck. He... did know Saïx was no longer nearby to witness this little production he was putting on... right? Then again, maybe Lea was too far gone by now to realize his brother had left the room and so was still on boyfriend autopilot. Cradling my hand to his chest just over his heart, his other came up to start fiddling with the end of my braid from where it hung forward over my shoulder as he grinned up at me. "Wanna know?"

My head tipped to one side, "...know what?"

"You said what you see in me, so now it's my turn. Wanna know what I see in you?"

I blinked at him. Then my eyes briefly flicked over to Saïx just beyond the island counter where he was filling a coffee maker with water. Could he hear us all the way over there? Hopefully… this might be good for show. With a low snort, I planted my elbow on the armrest next to me, propping my cheek against my knuckles as I dropped my gaze back to Lea. "Sure, why not? Go for it."

This should be good.

His grin twitched wider. "You're kooky."

...well I certainly wasn't disappointed.

Though that wasn't quite the word I would have expected out of him. In fact, not the word I would have ever expected out of anyone when used to describe me.

One of my eyebrows quirked. "I'm… kooky?"

He nodded, "Mm-hm! Most people don't know it, but it's there. Way, way deep down in here," he tapped a finger to a spot just below my collarbone before going back to toying with my braid. "Ya try to keep it hidden. Don't like people seeing that side of you for some reason. But I've caught glimpses of it. I like it. Makes me feel like I'm in on a secret no one else is. And you're fun. Hella smart, too. And so goddamn pretty."

"That so?" I muttered, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

Wine Tipsy Lea was laying it on a bit thick.

Still… I was smiling despite myself.

"And that. Right there," he tapped a finger to my lips. "Your smile is gorgeous. Was the first thing about you that had me head over heels. I love being the one to put it there. Love being the one that can make you laugh."

Did I say a bit thick? Try instead a lot thick. Too thick. Like two metric tons too thick. Jeez, perhaps I'd be better off hoping Saïx couldn't actually hear all this. Even he might think it a bit too much to be believable.

Lea's eyes softened as he continued to stare up at me, his hand shifting over from my mouth to lightly graze his curled fingers against my cheek, leaving tiny tingles in their wake. "...I wish we were real."

Insert record screech.

E-E-Excuse me?!

My heart stopped. Like legit full on stopped. There were at least three full seconds there where if a medical examiner had checked my pulse, they would have probably declared me dead.

Lea froze, his whole body locking up. His eyes grew round and his face blanched, his expression now a perfect mirror of what I imagined my own must have looked like in that exact moment as he seemingly and immediately realized his mistake.

Now I definitely hoped Saïx couldn't overhear us! There seemed to be no reaction from over in the kitchen beyond the sound of water beginning to boil. Which was good. Maybe our cover wasn't blown and-

...and so not the point right now! The point was… was…

Ex-friggin'-scuse me?!

Wish we were real? What did that even mean? Real what? Did he mean that he wanted… that he wished he and I… that we were a… an actual, honest to god coupl-

No! No, I must have misheard. Yeah, that had to be it! He hadn't said… er… what I thought he'd said. No, what he'd probably actually said was, uh… was he wished we were… seals. Yeah, that's probably what it was! Seals were neat! And… and cute! I wouldn't blame him for wanting to be one, especially in his less than totally sober state! Or… or… he could have said that he… he fished… for Neil. Who was Neil, one might wonder? Got me! But you know what? Good for Lea, helping his ol' pal Neil out with fishing like that. Nice guy, that Lea. Such a giver, such a-

"TORS!" Lea suddenly shouted, practically making me jump out of my skin as he shot up off my lap and scooted all the way over to sit at the opposite end of the couch. He had a hand clasped over his nose and mouth, doing a poor job of hiding his reddened (wine flushed?) face. "Realtors! I wish we were realtors, is what I was trying to say!" he hastily clarified, shooting a weak chuckle my way.

I stared at him blankly.

Wha…? Realtors…?

Apparently, he wasn't done. "Yeah! You know, one of those power couples you hear about all the time! Partners in everything, from romance to real estate! That's some real lovey-dovey crap right there, don'tcha think? The epitome of passion! The sappiest dream to ever sap! The-"

"What inanity are you babbling on about now?" Saïx returned, causing me for the second time in as many minutes to nearly die of cardiac arrest. He was carrying two steaming mugs, one in each hand.

"Nothing! Not a damn thing! Nope! Total nonsense!" Lea said quickly, snatching up one of the cups and rapidly blowing on the coffee a couple times before knocking back the whole thing in one go. He pulled the cup away from his lips with a wince, probably suffering from a tongue that was now at least mildly burnt. Then he plastered on a grin, "You know how I get when I'm lost in the sauce, man. I start rambling off total bullshit that I don't even mean. Never. Mm-mm, nope, not one bit! Every word of it? Total garbage. Yup! Heh…"

I flinched back from the second warm mug that was suddenly being offered me. I'd barely had a chance to hold up my hand and shake my head before Lea was grabbing that one too, handling this one with smaller, more cautious sips.

...realtors.

Huh.

Okay, sure, why not?

Not like it was any crazier than any of the other explanations I'd come up with myself. Especially when you considered Lea was more than a little buzzed. People said nonsensical things all the time while under the influence. I'd know, I'd seen Anna in a state of three sheets to the wind on more than one occasion. You should have heard half the things she'd blathered on about at the time… adventures through magical winter wonderlands, talking snowmen, singing rock people, whole castles made of-

Shoot, Saïx was talking to me. Or rather, had been talking to me for a while and now seemed to be expecting some sort of reply. Still a little rattled, I scrounged together a flimsy but polite smile, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

One thin eyebrow arched ever so slightly at me as he cradled a fuming mug between his hands. Apparently he'd gone back at some point to get one for himself as well. "...I heard you were present during one of my sleepwalking episodes a couple weeks back. I hope I didn't give you too much of a fright."

"Oh! No! No, it's-" I got distracted as I felt Lea gingerly inching back over to sit beside me. Probably trying to salvage some semblance of the relationship pretense. However, his affections had become somewhat subdued, restricted now to only resting an arm along the sofa cushions behind my head and his knee brushing against mine as he continued to nurse the coffee. Regathering my train of thought, I tried again, "It's, uh… it's alright. Not your fault. Nor was I bothered by it at all. Just had to stay out of your way, is all."

"Still I-"

"Ya know what?" Lea suddenly piped up, plonking the now empty mug down onto the coffee table right next to the first one. "Sorry guys, but I think we gotta call it an early night! I'm beat! And I mean woof! Dog-tired!"

My eyebrows knit together as I glanced over at him. "...but you just chugged two full cups of coffee."

...what are you doing, you fool, shut up! He was probably trying to rescue us by putting a merciful end to what, as of the last five minutes, had officially become one royal disaster of an evening!

He bat a hand through the air, "That? Please, that was just to help sober my drunk ass up! Trust me, caffeine doesn't do jackshit to me when it comes to staying awake."

Saïx's mouth had settled into a flat line as his green gaze shifted back and forth between Lea and me. "Very well," he said finally, closing his eyes as he raised his cup to his lips, "I presume my noise canceling headphones will be a necessity while I work tonight."

I frowned. "Noise canceling…?"

Lea cleared his throat and gave a sheepish chuckle while scratching a spot behind his ear. "He, uh… thinks you're spending the night."

"Oh…" I said slowly before his words had a chance to fully sink in. Then they did. "Oh!" I repeated more loudly, eyes widening as I rocketed up to my feet, "You mean sex!"

...what the actual frick, mouth?!

"Which is a thing!" Apparently, I was only getting started. Panic mode was in full effect now. "A thing d-dating couples do! Which… which we are! Dating, that is. And a couple! Can't, uh… can't forget that part." Dear lord, where's a gag when you need one? "Which, I don't know w-why you would. Because clearly we're a couple. Yup! That's us!" Yeesh, at least when Lea had been yammering off nonsense, he'd had wine coursing through his veins. What was my excuse? "A couple! A couple who, ah…" Oh no. "...who have, er…" Don't you say it. Don't you dare say it. "...who have sex!"

I winced.

Just shoot me. Shoot me now.

"Oh yeah, lots and lots of it!" Oh great. There was more. "All the time! In all s-sorts of, um… places. My room. His room. Oh look," I pointed both my hands towards Lea's door, "there's his room now!" Make an excuse to leave. Any excuse. " I think we'll go in there now and make with all the sex!" Not that excuse! Pause, followed by tiny, nervous laughter from me. "Yup."

Then before I knew it, I'd bolted into said room, door crashing shut behind me. I pressed my back to it, clutching both hands to my mouth as I hyperventilated and trembled, eyes huge and unblinking as I stared off into space, registering absolutely zilch of what was in front of me now.

What.

Did.

I.

Just.

Do?!

You know what, cheeks? I won't even try and stop you this time. You go right on ahead and blush your nonexistent little hearts out. Fry my face to a friggin' crisp, for all I care. I won't judge. You have every right after… that. Whatever the heck that even was just now!

Oh gosh, had I really just gone on and on about, hrm… intimate relations? In front of Lea's brother? That... had to be... the most spectacular case of anxiety-induced word vomit to date from me yet! What was wrong with me? Who does that? No, seriously, I demand answers this instant, what in the everliving-

A soft knock at the door made me yelp and jump away, whipping around to face it, heart trying to jackhammer its way out of my chest. I was greeted by my own frazzled reflection staring back at me from the full-length mirror hanging there. My face could have been mistaken for a ripe, oversized tomato.

"...El?" Lea's muffled voice came through from the other side. "You might've, uh… kinda forgot something."

A crease formed between my eyebrows. Forgot something? No, I don't think so. I glanced down at myself, hands patting over my dress. Phone in pocket? Check. Shoes on feet? Check. No purse, I hadn't used one tonight. No coat, I'd thought it too warm out for it. My gaze settled on the door once more, eyes scrunching. "What did I forget?"

"...me?"

Oh.

Fudge.

After that, ah… stirring speech I'd just given out there a moment ago, it would certainly help drive the point home if I had him in here with me, wouldn't it?

After all, it took two to, ahem... tango.

As I reached a hand towards the doorknob, I realized I hadn't even locked it. Lea must have only been knocking to be considerate. A consideration I greatly appreciated, especially when you take into account that this was in fact his room that I'd taken sanctuary in. Taking a deep breath and expelling it slowly in one last ditch effort to calm my nerves, my still shaking fingers closed around the knob and twisted.

I cracked the door ajar about an inch, just barely enough for me to peek one eye through. Arms crossed and one shoulder propped against the doorframe, Lea tilted his head with a tiny smile, "Hey."

My gaze fell to my feet for a moment before flicking back up to meet his. "...hi."

"Can I come in?"

I hesitated for another heartbeat then nodded, pulling the door open further and taking a couple steps back. He turned his head to one side, calling out a quick, "Night, man!" to Saïx before walking in and closing the door.

Ah, awkward silence. Ye hath returned. Never could stay away from me for long, could you?

"So…" I hugged myself and decided to get into a staring contest with the floor. "...think he likes me?"

Lea snerked, folding one arm behind his back, hand hooking his opposite elbow as he leaned back against the mirror hanging from his door. "You kidding? He adores you. Practically ready to call ya sister-in-law."

I attempted a smile. It came across as more of a grimace. "Even after I was… all…"

"...smooth and cool as a cucumber?" he supplied, his voice chipper. "Absolutely! And you said you couldn't lie," he teased. "You handled that one like a total pro!"

...oh. Wow, he was right. Not about the "pro" part, obviously, but that I had lied. For the first time since this whole charade started, I'd told a straight out, bald-faced lie. It had been a monumental failure, to be sure, but hey… we all had to start somewhere. Guess I had to take my silver linings wherever I could.

"Gah, I should have just made up some sort of… of excuse or something." I started pacing slowly, eyes still downcast as I brought one hand up to chew on my thumbnail. "Said I couldn't stay because I had an opening shift tomorrow."

He shook his head, "Saïx knows you work at the mall with me, so he also knows I woulda happily driven ya over from here, even at the crack of dawn."

Frowning, I tried again, "Well then, I could have said that… ah! That you had an early test tomorrow so I shouldn't be keeping you up late!"

"Nah, he knows me too well," he smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "Knows I'd never let a lil thing like that stop me."

I blinked. Then I buried my face in my hands with a groan. "Oh god, I can never face him again. Not after that." Dragging my palms down to peek out between my fingers, I grumbled, "I'm guessing it's safe to assume he's retracted his 'woman of obvious intelligence and sophistication' comment." Ha. Showed what Saïx knew.

Shrugging one shoulder, he laughed, "I wouldn't worry 'bout it too much. Just another side of your kookiness that I mentioned earlier. 'Sides, he knows what a nervous, jumpy creature you are."

Up quirked one eyebrow. "...he does?"

"Well, he does now."

...fair point.

One that did not make me feel better.

"And look at the bright side," Lea continued. "It's good this happened here rather than in front of your folks! Now you'll be better prepared to handle it the next time it comes up."

My lips twisted sourly, "I guess so." As bad as this already was, it would have spelled utter disaster if that little freakout had occurred during the upcoming weekend with my parents. We're talking one epic catastrophe here, like meteor-taking-out-the-dinosaurs kind of catastrophe. Then again, I didn't particularly see this exact set of circumstances arising while I was around my family. Still… best to be on the safe side. I wrinkled my brow, "Better prepared… how?"

"Ah, well…" he pursed his lips to one side, tapping a finger against his other arm. "For starters… and I'm just spitballing here, but next time you could maybe just, ya know… not say the word sex repeatedly? If at all? I'm thinking this is 'less is more' kinda situation."

"...good call."

"Heh," he paused, rubbing his shoulder. "So... looks like we're bunkmates."

I lowered my gaze once more and brought my curled fingers up to my mouth, covering my deepening frown. "Yeah… looks like…"

I wish we were real.

Gah, why was I still even thinking about that?! Lea had already explained it, hadn't he? Realtors. The word he had actually said, had been in the middle of saying, was realtors. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just the ramblings of a guy who'd had a little too much to drink. Why was I still stuck on this?

My face must have been an open book. "Listen, I… meant what I said earlier," he spoke abruptly and my eyes darted up to lock on his. He averted his gaze and scratched his cheek, "You can't take anything I say too seriously when I've been drinking. Often my brain is just stringing random words together and spitting out the first arbitrary bullshit it can come up with. Like a toddler that's just learned to talk, regurgitating words it doesn't even understand just cuz it heard it from someone else at some point. Half the time, the things I say when I'm liquored up don't even make any sense." His eyes settled on me once more, this time accompanied by a weak smile. "So just don't be too… concerned about any gibberish that came blurting outta my stupid drunk mouth, 'kay? And you won't hear another peep of it tonight. Those two coffees are kicking in fast, so I'm much more clear headed now."

I tugged at my braid before folding my arms tightly together once more. "...okay."

And now onward to Act 1, Scene 2 of the award-winning and critically acclaimed musical: Awkward Silence.

"I have a lizard!"

My head rocked back at Lea's sudden declaration out of nowhere, both eyebrows shooting up my forehead. "...a lizard?"

He nodded eagerly, grinning big now. "Yeah! Wanna see? Come take a look!" He moved off to his left towards one corner of the room and for the first time I realized that there was a large glass terrarium situated on a long, low table in that spot. Lea squatted down next to it, waving me over to join him. I obliged and when I got close enough, he took hold of my hand and tugged me down into a crouch beside him. He squinted into the enclosure for a second, scanning all the rocks and plants inside before, "Ah-ha!" He pointed, tapping his finger against the glass, "There he is!"

And indeed, there he was, curled up inside a small, hollowed out log and blinking back at us. He was a tiny thing, all big eyes and blue skin except for the purple markings running down his back. "Oh wow," I slowly smiled, "you really do have a lizard. Why didn't you say anything last time I was here?"

"Cuz 'come into my bedroom so I can introduce you to my lizard' sounds a lil sketch, don'tcha think?" he chuckled, waggling his pointer finger up and down at his pet in greeting.

A soft snort. "Yeah, that might have earned you a dubious look." The critter crawled out into the open now, giving us a curious look. "Can I hold him?"

Lea flashed some dimple, "Course!" Straightening up, he moved the terrarium's lamps to one side before sliding out the lid and reaching inside, mumbling, "C'mere, Bruni." Picking the reptile up, he then offered him to me, "Now, the lil guy's usually shy at first but warms up quick and can be a bit of a flirt."

I stood as well, holding one hand out. Bruni cautiously put one stubby-toed foot on my fingers, eyeing me warily before fully walking the rest of the way into my palm. He was small enough to fit perfectly in it. Then he cocked his head up at me. I cocked mine back then hummed a low laugh, stroking a finger along the top of his head. That seemed to be all it took to win him over, for he then bellyflopped into a cuddle against my palm before rolling over onto his back.

"Bit of a flirt indeed," I murmured, rubbing his tummy with my fingertip. "What kind is he?"

"Salamander. Which, I know, technically not a lizard. But feels simpler most of the time just telling people that's what he is." He fell silent for a second, eyes crinkling as he watched us. Then he walked past me, saying, "Hey, welcome to my room by the way!"

I turned to face him and for the first time got a real good look at the place. If I had to pick one word to describe it, that word would be pandemonium.

Clothes were strewn about everywhere, covering floor and furniture alike - pretty much anywhere conceivable besides actually inside a dresser. Bookshelves stacked high with no rhyme or reason, textbooks next to movie DVDs (from action thriller to cornball classics) next to game CD cases next to vinyl records. Walls and ceiling plastered with posters, mostly of classic rock bands, but there was the occasional renegade: one here in which a dangerous looking man posed with an Assassin's Creed logo across the bottom, another one there depicting a grim reaper character dual-wielding sickles that looked to be from another video game of some sort. A queen-sized bed with black and red sheets buried beneath a mess of paper and more textbooks, along with a closed laptop and his shoulder bag tossed carelessly on top of it all.

And that was just barely scratching the chaotic surface. Needless to say, it was a lot to take in.

"Pardon the mess," he gave a rueful chuckle, scrambling to snatch clothes up off the carpet here and there to chuck into the laundry basket residing in his open closet, just under a black, full-length coat hanging from the rung in there. "Wasn't expecting any overnight visitors."

"It's, uh…" So many adjectives, so little time. As I searched for a word, I felt Bruni crawling up my sleeve. I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't slip, but otherwise let him do his own thing. At last, I settled on, "...big."

"Yup! I got the masters! Comes complete with its own bathroom and everything," he jerked a thumb towards a second closed door on the other side of the room. By now, Bruni had found his way onto my shoulder and was snuggling into the crook of my neck. My fingers came up to pet along his spine. Narrowing his eyes on the salamander, Lea went on, "Surprisingly, Saïx prefers the smaller, cozier room. He's a minimalist, so not like he needs all that much space anyhow. Which works out for me, especially since I used to, er… heh, shall we say, host more sleepovers?"

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth, but whatever I'd been about to say was forever lost.

For that's when Bruni did it.

He took the plunge.

Straight down into the neckline of my dress.

I yelped, arms crossing over my bosom. Lea's eyes widened, "Motherfu-" He lunged forward, hands outstretched before him like he had every intention of going down in there after Bruni. Then Lea froze, seemed to think better of it and instead folded his arms together, shoving his hands into his armpits as he looked away. "You, uh…" he cleared his throat, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, "...you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tickles a bit," I wrinkled my nose, trying not to squirm as I felt the little guy climbing around against my chest. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he moved over to start making his way down my sleeve. I gave my arm a gentle shake to help speed his progress along and eventually he came tumbling out into my palm.

"Sorry 'bout that," Lea scooped him back out of my hand into his, using the other to ruffle his hair with a tiny, bashful smile. "I know I said he was a flirt, but he's never been this brazenly forward before."

Shaking my head with a snerk, I said, "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it."

Walking back over to the terrarium, he turned a scowl onto the salamander. "And what do you have to say for yourself, young man?" Bruni just answered with a lizard grin, flicking his tongue out to lick his own eyeball. "Smug lil shit," Lea grumbled, setting him back down inside his home.

One corner of my lips twitching up, I turned to take another look around his room. Despite Lea's hasty tidying up, his carpet was still a disaster zone of shirts and other garments. As I began to carefully navigate it, I asked, "So how are we doing this?"

"Doing…?" I could hear the frown in his voice.

I looked back at him. "Sleeping arrangements?"

"Oh! That's easy!" Having now set the lid and lamps back into their rightful places, Lea walked towards me with his grin resurfacing. "You get the bed, I'll take the floor."

My eyelids drooped. "You can't sleep on the floor, that's ridiculous. It's your room."

"Exactly!" he started clearing the papers up off his comforter, gathering them all together and tucking them away inside one of the textbooks. "It's my room, so I'll sleep wherever I want in it! And tonight, the floor's looking pretty damn good!"

I huffed. "Enough with the chivalry already. I'll sleep on the floor."

He picked up his laptop and made his way over to a large mound of clothes. Oh wait. There was a desk hiding under there, or so I realized as soon as he started shoving all the shirts and whatnot aside. Placing the laptop down on top of it, he then shrugged back at me, "Hey, if that'll make ya happy, more power to ya. Doesn't change the fact that I will not be taking my siesta in that bed tonight."

A low harrumph in my throat. "Fine."

"Fine," he agreed, now opposite the bed from me as he hung his bag from a wall hook there. Then he squinted one eye at me, "So it's settled then. We're both sleeping on the floor. Like the couple of rational, mature, grown-ass adults that we are. While the perfectly good bed goes to waste. Cuz that makes total sense."

I shot him a deadpan look. "Alright, fine then. Bruni gets the bed."

He slapped his forehead, dragging his hand down his face with an exasperated laugh. "C'mon, El, will you just take the bed please? I won't be able to fall asleep if I know you're just curled up on the floor."

"Sounds like not my problem," I crossed my arms with a smirk. Oh-ho, that's right. I could be stubborn when I wanted to be.

"Woman! Just take the freaking bed before I throw you in the damn thing!" both his hands gestured in mild annoyance at said bed.

Scoffing, I turned my head to one side. "Please, it's the twenty-first century, your neanderthal tactics won't work on me."

Green eyes flashing, he said in a low, even voice, "They will if I make good on 'em."

My gaze narrowed on him now. "You wouldn't dare."

He bent forward, fists planted on the mattress as he gave me a tiny glare across it. "Wanna bet?"

My legs turned traitor and defected, sitting me down on the bed so quick, you would have missed the motion if you'd blinked.

"There now," his face immediately lit up like the first rays of sunlight at dawn. "Was that so hard?"

I made a little hmph in my throat, tucking my legs beside me as I smoothed my dress over my knees with as much dignity as I could muster. "I'll have you know that I chose of my own free will to take the bed tonight and it had nothing to do with any thinly veiled threats that may or may not have been made on your part." I unzipped my ankle boots, letting them fall to the carpet below with a couple of heavy thuds. "I mean, I am the guest after all, it's only proper etiquette that I sleep in the bed. I'm just making sure you're adequately performing your role as the host."

A soft snerk came from his nose as he kicked off his own shoes and spread his arms wide to give me a mock bow, "Well, thank you, Miss Manners, I dunno what I'd ever do without you."

"You're welcome," I sniffed lightly. It was nice of him to let me have this. I then felt the bed quake beneath me as Lea flopped down beside me, stretching out comfortably and cushioning his head with his arms. I blinked down at him. "...I'm sorry, did that conversation just end differently than I thought it did?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Hm?"

"Thought you were taking the floor."

"I am, but that's not until lights out. Right now, we're just chilling!" he beamed. But then his expression relaxed and he propped himself up slightly on his elbows, cocking his head at me. "This is okay, right?"

"Er…" I glanced away, gnawing on my bottom lip.

Yeesh, I seriously needed to grow up. This wasn't a big deal. Like, at all. So what if we were sitting in the same bed? Nothing to freak out about. I mean, sure, I'd never shared a bed with a guy before, not even my ex. Come to think of it, I'd never even been in a boy's bedroom before. But hey, there was a first time for everything. This would be fine. I would be fine.

"...yeah, it's okay," I finally responded. He frowned, not looking convinced. I put on my best brave smile and managed a tiny laugh, "Really, it's fine." Or at least it would be once we stopped talking about it. Wanting to move the conversation along to something else, I searched my brain for a new topic. "So… you and Saïx…" I drew my knees up, hugging them to my chest, "...do you always mess with each other like that?"

"Oh yeah, all the time," he chuckled, settling back down into his pillow and folding one arm back behind his head. "Nothing says you care like making the other person's life a constant living hell!"

Settling my chin down onto my knees, I snorted. "Remind me never to let you care about me."

"Too late!" he chirped. My eyeroll belied the tiny cartwheel my stomach was doing. "'Sides, all siblings are like that. I'm sure you and Anna have terrorized the crap outta each other more times than you can even count."

"Well yeah," I turned my head to look over at him, resting my ear to my legs instead, "but that was way back when we were children. We grew out of it a long time ago."

Lea grinned cheekily, "Oh really? I seem to recall a certain someone chasing her sister 'round the living room trying to straight up murder her dead not hardly more than a week ago."

Wow, had that really only been just last week? It felt like eons ago by this point. A soft noise of contempt huffed out through my nose, "Don't exaggerate. I didn't try to murder her."

"How did it go again? ...ah, I believe your exact words to her were, and I quote, 'dip you in liquid nitrogen, snap every frozen limb off your body one by one, and then I'll kill you.' That about sum it up?"

I pursed my lips to the right, "...there were extenuating circumstances."

"Heh," he stared up at the ceiling, "if ya say so."

I lifted my head back up, my arms loosening somewhat around my legs as I considered my next words carefully. "About Saïx… can I ask what happened?" Lea glanced back at me quizzically and I clarified, "I mean with…" I tapped a finger to the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, his scar?" he rolled over onto his side towards me, bracing his head in one hand. "Old battle wound from our time in the foster system. Same shithead who let us two numbskull brats play with a chainsaw. Negligent and abusive. Real winning combo there, huh?"

"You mean a foster parent did that to him? On purpose? That's terrible," I breathed, looking horrified.

"S'okay," he gave a one-shouldered shrug, then smirked wickedly. "I retaliated by burning his house down."

My eyes widened, "Did you really?"

Lea sighed, "Unfortunately, no, but not for lack of trying. Only managed to set a bed ablaze and blacken a few curtains before the fire department showed up."

I stared at him blankly. "I am just... simply amazed that you survived long enough to make it to adulthood. Either of you."

He blew out an amused pft through his teeth. "Yeah, Saïx and I were definitely prime candidates for the Darwin Awards growing up. Told ya, we were lil hellions forged straight from the fiery pits of El Diablo. Hey, speaking of Ol' Bullseye over there..." he trailed off as he suddenly sat himself up.

"Bullseye?" I asked, arching an eyebrow his way while watching him fold his legs beneath himself so he could stand on his knees atop the mattress.

"Ya know. Mr. X-Marks-The-Spot," he tacked on by way of explanation, abruptly shoulder-slamming into the wall behind us just above his pillows and making me jolt.

...the heck?

"...you mean Saïx?" I furrowed my brow, wincing as he followed it up by crashing his elbow against the wall next. "Aren't those nicknames a bit… mean?" My question was punctuated with another loud thump.

Seriously, what on earth…?.

"Nah, he likes it." Whack! "Knows they're terms of endearment." Bang! "Only from me though. Anyone else ever even so much as thought about calling him anything like that, I'd make sure next time they turned up would be in a bodybag." Whump! "'Sides, you should hear half the shit he calls me, especially when he's royally ticked." Thwack! "This one time, he-"

"Wait. Hold it. Stop," I held up my hands, eyes flicking back and forth between him and the wall. "...what exactly is it that you are doing?"

"Huh?" he stilled, blinking at me a couple times. "Oh this?" his shoulder rammed into the surface once more. "This is the wall I share with Saïx's room."

...well okay then, sure, that totally and one hundred percent cleared up my utter confusion and lack of comprehension.

Not.

"Alright," I said, stretching the word out. "And so…?"

"So he's come to expect a certain level of enthusiasm on my part whenever I'm entertaining a lady friend," Lea winked and clicked his tongue before once again striking the wall.

"Oh?" I frowned down at my hands. Then it clicked with another louder, "Oh!" Followed by a slower, more quiet, "Oh…" Cheeks warming now, I looked back over at him, "You mean you… that is, against the wall, you've… oh." A pause while my eyes shifted about in my awkwardness. "But wouldn't the headboard get in the-" I stopped, glancing back over my shoulder and answering my own question. "Oh… oh, I see. No headboard. Got it. How very, er..." I cleared my throat and ducked my head to my knees, muffling into them, "...very practical."

I heard him snerk as the beating the wall was taking continued. "You're funny when you're flustered, ya know that?"

My face cranked up the heat dial even further and I scowled.

If you listened closely, the signs of a very steady, very distinct rhythm to the pounding could be heard beginning to take shape.

...I needed to stop listening so closely.

My eyebrows knit together as I then remembered something. "Wait… didn't Saïx say something about noise canceling headphones?"

"Well yeah, so he's not hearing any of this, but he can still see whenever any of the crap on his shelves or any framed pictures or anything else that might be up against his side o' the wall shakes from the impact," he shrugged, halting to puff out a noisy breath and wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. Apparently, he was working up a sweat. Then he grinned brightly, "This is actually kinda fun! Wanna have a go at it?"

I shot him a flat look. "...I think I'm good, thanks."

"You sure?" Another slam. "It's actually pretty satisfying. One might even say cathartic. Got any pent-up aggression you gotta work out?" And another, this one taking the form of a punch. He immediately regretted that one, eliciting a pained hiss as he shook out his now reddening fingers.

"Yeah, no," I rapidly shook my head, "no pent-up aggression here. Fresh out." Insert weak chuckle at my lame joke that was neither funny nor an actual joke.

"Suit yourself," he laughed, smacking the wall hard with an open palm this time. Then his back snapped straight and his face lit up, "Oh yeah! Before I forget…" he pivoted to his left, reaching into his messenger bag he'd hung up earlier and rooting around in it.

I snorted, "Done already?"

"Just giving that wall a breather," he said, not looking up from his searching. "We've found some other surface to bear the brunt of all our lovemaking for now, but we'll probably be back to this one later."

Oh gosh. Way to go, mouth, you just had to ask, didn't you? Just when my cheeks had begun settling down too.

"Ah! Found it!" he triumphantly pulled something out of the bag. Flopping back down to once more lay flat on the bed beside me, he held it out towards me, "Pour vous, ma petite amie jolie."

I squinted at the booklet in his hand. Or more precisely, a catalog. "Twilight University?" I read the bold lettering as I reached out to take it, staring at the image on the cover of a handful of young adults gathered around in a small circle of desks and looking photogenically excited about education.

"Yup! It's the course listings for next semester at my college. Lookie here," he opened the booklet up, leaving it propped in my hands as he started thumbing through it quickly. "Ah, there!" he stopped on a page, resting his head on my shoulder as he pointed to one of several listings that had been circled here. "They offer a few different introductory drama classes ya might be interested in."

I blinked down at the catalog as vague memories of a conversation I'd had with Lea last time I was here to help him study started coming back to me. "...you remembered?" I asked quietly.

"'Course!" I could feel his cheek pull into a smile against my shoulder. "It seemed important to you, so how could I forget?"

Honestly? I myself had forgotten. But to be fair, I had had a lot on my mind the past couple weeks, what with suddenly having a boyfriend now (pretend or otherwise), trying to figure out how to make a proper show of being a girlfriend, and stressing out over the all too soon to come visit with my parents. Frankly, my life had been turned upside down as of late and had become the very definition of insanity. There had just quite simply been no time to think about childhood fantasies of singing and performing in musicals.

But I guess… right here, right now in Lea's room, I had a bit of a reprieve. I mean, it's not like there was anything exactly pressing at this very moment, nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow at least. I suppose I had a few seconds I could spare to entertain the thought. It couldn't hurt anything…

"...so where is Twilight University exactly?" I stretched my legs out to lay flat on the mattress, crossing my ankles and resting the open booklet down in my lap. "Is it close to my apartment?"

He hummed low in thought. "Probably a bit too far if you're on foot. But maybe we could carpool there. And hey," he lifted his head to glance over at me, "I still got a free elective course or two that I need to take. I could enroll in the class with ya!"

I felt a grin tugging at one corner of my lips as I looked back down at the catalog, absently trailing my fingers down one of the circled paragraphs. "I think I'd like that…"

"Yeah?" he asked softly and for a second I thought I might have sensed him leaning in a little closer. But it must have just been in my head, for now he was pulling away to flop over onto his back on his side of the bed once again, making a small cough into his fist. "I, uh… talked to my friends too. The ones who run the local community theater. You're in luck! They're between shows at the moment and are actually gonna be holding auditions soon for their next one. Sometime this week, I think. It's a musical too!"

"Really?" I returned my gaze to him, closing the booklet but using a finger to hold the page. A sigh then escaped me as I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, "I don't know… I doubt I'm ready for anything like that."

Lea shook his head with a chuckle, "Ready for what? Just to talk to 'em? It's not like you actually hafta audition or anything. Nah, you can just head down, meet them, get some deets… maybe find out the where and the when so you can go and just watch other people tryout, ya know? Just get a feel for it, if you want."

He made a good point. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. I could go and just ask some questions, that's all. Surely, there would be no harm in that. "Maybe…"

"Well if you do decide you wanna drop in for a lil chat with them, their day job is over at Halloween Town in the mall. They should both be on the clock there around noon tomorrow. Ask for Jack or Sally and just tell 'em I sent ya," he jabbed a thumb into his chest with a big grin, "got it memorized?"

"Jack or Sally… okay," I nodded, responding with a small smile of my own. "I might do that. Thanks, Lea."

"Always happy to be of service! Now," he hopped up off the bed and made his way over to one of his shelves that was pure anarchy incarnate, "whaddya think? You up for a movie?"

The corners of my eyes crinkled and I set the catalog aside on the nightstand. "I could be. What are the options?"

He rubbed his chin, scrutinizing the mess crammed into the rack before pulling out a couple DVD cases, one from the top shelf and the other from somewhere in the middle. He held them up in either hand for me, "I'm thinking either Sixteen Candles or The Labyrinth. Thoughts?"

I looked between the two choices. Then my eyes scanned about the room and I frowned. "I'm thinking it's going to be hard to watch either of them without a TV."

"Without a-?" he blinked a couple times, looking over to his right. Then he sighed, "Hang on a sec," as he tossed the movies down onto the foot of the bed and made his way over to another towering pile of clothes against the wall directly across the room from his bed. "Watch and be amazed as I make a flat screen appear outta thin air in three… two…" he whipped the garments aside with a flourish, revealing the television beneath, "Ta-da!"

"Ah," I gave a polite clap and settled more comfortably down into his pillows, "I stand corrected. Though who needs movies when we have your amazing wizardry to keep us entertained?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Heh, it'd be a short magic show. 'Fraid I just got the one trick up my sleeve."

"Too bad." I paused, eyeing the DVD cases. "Make it a double feature?"

He snapped his fingers and snatched them both back up.

"Girl after my own heart. Pure genius."

Author's Note: Ah, yet another classic cliché for the books: our couple encounters one room, one bed for the night xD Also, fun fact: I started out this chapter stumped for what they should be talking about over dinner. Then I asked my bestie, who simply said: "gummi ships." And I just laughed it off at first, all "naw, that wouldn't make sense for this AU." But then it churned in my mind for a few minutes and I was like "wait… no… I think I can make this work…" And thus the Global Union for Multigalactic Mobility Investigation aka GUMMI Space Program aka NASA rip-off was born xD And further thus, Lea being an alien conspiracy-nut JUST for the sake of pissing of his space-loving half-bro was born xP Anyhoo! For those of you who haven't seen Frozen 2 yet (for shame, it's SO good, I demand you go out and watch it THIS INSTANT), Bruni the salamander is from that! He's a fire spirit in the movie with legit fire powers, so I got excited to give the fire boi a fire lizard for a pet! Also, maybe you can start to see the inklings of actual plot starting to sneak back into this story xD Slowly, we'll get back on course, but not before at least one more hijinks-y misadventure takes place… hehehe…

What does the next chapter hold in store for out couple? What new challenges could their budding fake relationship face? Is Elsa really going to pursue any sort of acting class or community theater? Will Lea ever follow his realtor aspirations he seemed so passionate about? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[smolfangirl]

Say my name and everything just stops

A sound so sweet, of you and me - 11 - First name

Oookay, here we are. It’s been such a stressful day (don’t start world wars, people!) and as a result, I can’t focus on anything so I can’t promise this chapter will be as closely proofread as the others... anyways, this contains guarenteed more fluff than this week’s episodes ^^

Story: In a world where you only know who your soulmate is by calling them their first name, Matteo soon finds that the smallest words can be the hardest to say.

Word count: 3.3k

Ever since his couch had found it’s place in Matteo’s room, he loved it. But he never loved it quite as much as now, with Luna laying on top of him like a big kitten – a kitten that smiled into his chest and curled up closer instead of purring.

“You know, you make a really good pillow”, she mumbled as he gently let his hand wander over her back. “Maybe I should take you home.”

He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe I’d let you.”

Luna tilted her head, her eyes finding his, full of happiness and joy and maybe, just maybe, she’d start purring for real any second.

Leaning forward, he stole a kiss from her nose.

She flinched. As he moved, her hands suddenly laid on his stomach, supporting her and by the look on her face, his abs didn’t go unnoticed. (The extra exercises definitely paid off.)

“If I took you home, you’d have to meet my parents. For real.”

Matteo’s hand kept wandering over her skin. She was already so close – he was literally covered by her – yet he wanted, needed, to feel more. Like a junkie always searching for a bigger hit.

“I know”, he replied.

“You seemed pretty nervous about it the other day”, she teased. “And my parents are actually nice, they won’t eat you or something. The only Italian they eat is pizza. Sometimes pasta, but not on weekends.”

Matteo hummed in agreement, a joke on his lips but then she shifted, her hips jolting against his and all his thoughts fell silent while his stomach lit up in flames.

Luna smiled at him. Her hand stroke his abs, moving along to the sides and it left trails of fire behind. He loved everything about this. Her smile. Them being wrapped up in each other, how she had to stretch to kiss him. How she made him happy, happy, happy.

“You realize that I’m falling in love with you, my little moon, right?”

Maybe it was selfish of him.

Luna deserved her name to be said, she deserved it coming out of his mouth. She deserved everything he could give her and so much more than that.

Yet, it never came across his lips.

Sometimes he imagined saying it. When they skated, and he felt like floating in the air. When she snuggled him, her curls tickling the skin on his arms and the touch of her body warming the coldest bits of his soul. The word would form in his throat every time, only to get exchanged for a nickname in the end.

Again, and again, and again.

Sometimes he caught her wrinkling her forehead now. Other times she only smiled like no cloud ever appeared on her very own, very blue sky. It bugged him, the feeling he disappointed her, but at the same time he just didn’t want this irrevocable proof, this shattered dream and the hauling demons lingering in the broken pieces of it.

So, he never said it.

It must have been selfish for sure. Luna gave and gave, she was like his personal Santa Clause all year long, and slowly he reached a point where he unpacked her gifts with the itching sensation that he got much more than he earned, deserved.

But she did it with a smile – he loved that smile, so much – so he spilled out how happy he felt around her and how he admired her until she replied by smiling even brighter.

In these moments, Luna’s aura burned the slightest shade of darkness in the world, burned the shadows until he only saw light.

In these moments, he slowly realized it would be okay.

He’d taken her out for ice creams. Just like that, for no other reason than to surprise her. Or that’s what he told her.

She loved those casual dates. Whether in school or at the rink, their friends lurked by closely, always in plain sight or hearing distance. So, getting Matteo all for herself was something special, like a weekend trip, and Luna enjoyed it just as much.

“Does it really bother you?”, he inquired in the middle of her second strawberry scoop.

A tiny pink dot landed on his cheek as she spoon-fed him, and when she laughed, he frowned.

Luna held in. “What does?”

“That I haven’t said your name yet.”

Her spoon clinked against the cup, with the ice cream falling right back into it. She had expected him to avoid this topic the same way he tip-toed around Gastón’s (inevitable) puns. Even now, with his question hanging in the air, she expected him to look away or fidget with the menu or stare on the menu – any sign of impatient anxiety, really.

She was wrong.

Instead of avoiding any eye contact, his eyes took her in, scanned her, studied her detail by detail. No anxiety, no fear, at least not for her to see.

“Look”, she rested her hand on top of his. “I don’t understand it. But it’s okay, it’s your decision and I will accept whatever you want to do. I’ll be fine either way.”

(Maybe she was wrong about something else too. Maybe he cared more about soulmates than she believed.)

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

Finally, Matteo smiled too. His gaze wandered to their hands while he played with her fingers. “Oh, just one more thing”, Luna added after she finished her ice cream.

“What?”

“Can I have one more scoop? Please? Just one!”

Matteo shook his head only to break out in laughter. “You’re insatiable.”

“Matteo, can I borrow your notes from physics class?”

“Why? You sat right next to me”, Matteo answered while he waited for Gastón to finally change from his PE clothes into his school uniform.

“I wasn’t paying much attention, besides that woman writes too fast to keep track. And you were writing the entire time, I thought I could just ask you.”

How incredibly unfortunate. “I wasn’t taking notes.”

Gastón completely did not approve of this. Matteo knew that before his best friend paused mid-changing his shirt to send him a distasteful click of his tongue.

“You can’t judge me, you said yourself you weren’t listening”, Matteo defended himself. “And hurry up, I don’t want to be late for lunch again only because of your slow ass.”

“Nina likes my slow ass.”

He rolled his eyes. One more minute and he’d take care of Gastón’s stupid tie himself. This laid-back fumbling made him nervous. “Yeah, because she’s your soulmate.”

“You’re my soulmate too.”

“Touché. Still, hurry up.”

Finally, Gastón grabbed his bag and walked towards the door. “I’m going to ask Ramiro for his notes. Dude copies faster than a printer. But what were you writing?”

They stepped outside into the air that felt even warmer compared to the air condition in the locker rooms. A few students relaxed on the grass, the younger ones chased each other around. Above them all, right in the middle of the sky, Matteo found the moon, lost in between the bright blue of the day. He smiled.

“I started writing a new song.”

“Uh, what’s it called? Ode to the moon? Moonstruck?”

“I can’t tell you often enough, you aren’t even half as funny as you think you are.”

Gastón crossed his arms in front of his chest, huffing, “Duh, I’m punny.”

“Not even that.”

It took Luna a good moment to pin-point the difference in Matteo’s room.

“You changed the sheets.” Dark blue and cotton replaced the satin. Very soft cotton, she found out when she let her hand wander over the fabric.

“Well, drunk you didn’t like them, so yes, I changed them.”

Drunk you. To her own surprise, she remembered that evening pretty well, though cuddling him turned out to be the most vivid memory. (It had felt as if he put a flame in her chest, but that flame was also what made her feel more alive than skating or singing or anything else she’d ever done.)

“I’d rather we not speak of drunk me again.”

Matteo let himself fall on the couch and pouted at her but waved her over at the same time. “I liked drunk you. Sober you doesn’t compliment me half as much.”

Luna climbed on his lap. “Sober me has to protect the world from your ego, that’s why.”

In the end, she had to kiss his pout away. Not that she minded.

Luna sat on his lap. His shirt had magically found its way on the ground and her hand cradled his hair. At first, her other hand gently rested on his cheek, but soon she caused goosebumps all over his skin. Featherlight kisses on his jawline, on his mouth, on his neck deleted any coherent thoughts, and he tried to get a hold of whatever was closest to his own mouth. Her nose brushed against his jawline before she went for this little spot behind his ears that just felt so good.

Matteo almost giggled when her knees pressed into his sides at her attempt to get closer but there were her lips on his and he could only pull her in.

“I really like that you have the whole house to yourself”, she whispered in between slow kisses.

He slightly nodded as to not disturb her in her mission to kiss as many spots of his face as possible. “I really like that your parents let you stay over.”

As she left more pecks on his cheek, he felt her grin. Her fingers painted the lines of his body in glorious colors, like an artist created a masterpiece, leaving behind a trail of her love wherever she touched him.

“The only reason they let me is because you finally had dinner with us and convinced them you don’t just want to seduce me.”

Matteo chuckled. Even in case he planned to seduce her – one look from her and he’d do anything she wanted.  

“I even had to have this embarrassing ‘We hope you are staying safe’ talk”, she went on. A blush slipped on her face.

By the stars, he’d take in the sight of her for the rest of time without getting tired.

“And?”, he asked, pretending they hadn’t had this conversation yet. “Are you? Staying safe?” His hands ran along her spine. She arched into him, resting her head on his shoulder. At the sensation of his lips on her hair, she sighed.

“Let’s see – I’m alone with my boyfriend in a huge house. His shirt is off and we’re making out on his couch…”

“So?”

Luna grinned into his shoulder. “I think I’m good.”

He began to draw circles on her back, sometimes sneaking down to the hem of her top. “They’re probably happy to hear that.” Luna wrapped her arms around his neck. “And your parents?”

A huff escaped before he got the chance to hold it in. “They’re not too invested in my life and this time, I’m actually glad about it.”

Within a moment, she sat up enough to meet his eyes. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say she felt sorry for him – either way, he didn’t let her and kissed her instead.

More kisses. Calm and steady, like rain drops against his window on a summer night. His legs eventually lost all feeling, which didn’t matter. Luna made him feel so many things, so many more things than he’d ever imagined, that numb legs wouldn’t stop him from tasting her lips.

Luna simply was intoxicating.

And tired. She broke away to yawn loudly, then rubbed her eyes.

“I think we should go to bed”, Matteo said, caressing her cheek. A smile, sluggish yet warm. “Only if you keep your shirt off.”

Darkness. His blanket. And Luna in his arms, peacefully breathing into his chest.

Matteo knew he should feel happy.

He did. Mostly. Because this one thought, this one crippling fear of his, grew louder and stronger the more time he spent with Luna.

First, it only hovered in the back of his mind, kept in check by all the light she radiated. The darkness now lured it out of that corner, until he felt like he’d explode if he didn’t ask her.

“Are you awake?” he whispered into the silence.

Luna shifted, a soft groan on her lips. “Hm? You okay?” Her voice reminded him of her drunk version. Perhaps – hopefully – she’d be just as honest.

“Would you leave me? If you find your soulmate?”

“What?”

Surprise, even shock filled her tone. “No! I’d never leave you.” As if to prove it, she wrapped her arm around him and robbed closer.

His doubt remained, and he hated himself for it. “What if… what if you only think that now?”

She caught his lips, but he was certain he left a bitter taste, and she pulled away soon. “Listen”, her finger poked his chest, tapping it with each word she spoke. “I’m not waiting to meet someone who might not even exist for all I know.”

Matteo breathed in deeply. The nausea slowly faded from his stomach pit, the oxygen flew into his lungs more easily.

“I don’t even know if that person is real or if I have seen them before or even know them already, and I don’t care”, Luna continued. “I don’t care, because I don’t want someone else and you are not a puffer until I meet my soulmate. You’re not second best. This is my choice, and I choose you. Got it?”

In loss for words, he hugged her. (If you could hug a person you laid in bed with and they already were in your arms.) “I choose you too. Thank you.”

This time, when they kissed, she didn’t pull away. He did, but only to worship the soft skin of her neck.

“What are you doing?”, Luna asked, her voice hoarse now, an indistinct moan hidden in it.

“Nothing. But you might wanna use your scarf tomorrow.”

“Matteo!”

Of course, meeting Gastón by the rink the next day ended up in an awkward situation. For Luna, anyway. Her idiot boyfriend grinned so hard his mouth almost formed a circle.

“I see you’re wearing my scarf.” A satisfied smirk and wiggling eyebrows, always the wiggling eyebrows. “Nice.”

His closet was gigantic. Literally, and ridiculously gigantic, both Luna and all her clothes would fit into this monstrosity ten times. She never even imagined the possibility of someone owning a closet like that, except for Ámbar, of course.

How was she supposed to find a blanket in here?

“It’s somewhere in the lower drawers”, Matteo told her while he put his shirt back on.

When she opened the first drawer, she found no blanket.

She found something much better.

“I can’t believe you own hoodies”, she gasped, her mouth even formed this little ‘o’ but then, she snickered, “Or wear them.”

He muttered something that she failed to understand. Maybe some Italian curses? At least he showed no intention of stopping her, so she dug further. Between two dark blue hoodies, one piece of cotton looked weirdly familiar.

“Hey, I think I know this one! You wore it before, no?”

No answer.

Her brain sorted through her memory, in eager search for the right moment. It must’ve been months ago… Only after a few seconds passed did she remember. “Oh, I know, when you were skating with Gastón in the park and I ended up watching you!”

Matteo groaned. Although the first three buttons of his shirt weren’t closed yet, he shot forward to get the hoodie away from her.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so”, Luna laughed, the hoodie tightly pressed to her chest. “You can have it back when you answer me one question.”

“What question?” “You were so cranky that day, and I always wondered what was wrong.”

A pout unfolded on his face. “It’s embarrassing.”

When she simply waved the hoodie in front of him, he sighed. “I didn’t expect you to be there, and I hadn’t put any effort whatsoever into how I looked.”

For a second, she believed he was joking. Matteo always cared about how he looked, regardless of where or who he was with. Always. That was just a part of him, end of it.

But a soft – the softest pink – spread over his cheeks, and it blew away her doubt. She stood on her toes to press a kiss on his blush. “Aww, that’s really adorable.”

“Can I get my hoodie back now? And can you get this blanket, so we can go and pretend this never happened? Please?”

“No.” With a grin, Luna pulled the hoodie over her head. The cotton felt soft on her skin – whoever took care of the laundry surely used fabric softener – and when she buried her nose in it, it still gave off the scent of his perfume. (Or deo, Luna wasn’t sure.)

“I don’t need a blanket, I’ll just wear this.” It fit her like a blanket anyway. “Oh, and don’t forget these open buttons”, she added, chuckling. “No one wants to see you half-naked.”

Finally, this sparked a smirk on Matteo’s lips. “Didn’t seem like that earlier.”

Every word failed to grasp the color of the sunset in front of him. Not really pink, not really orange, only these vibrant last rays of the sun against the baby blue sky leaking through the clouds.

A beautiful sight, truly, still his gaze ended up stuck on Luna.

“Sure you don’t want a blanket?” he snickered as yet another shiver ran over her spine.

“I can use you as one”, she replied, robbing closer until her head rested on his chest and her hands sneaked between their bodies. He felt the coldness coming from her skin through his clothes. When he slightly shook his head at her, she only snuggled closer.

“But now you can’t see the stars.”

“I can look at you instead”, she whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

“Not as much as you are.”

In her eyes, he found a reflection of himself. The fondness in them rendered him speechless, it warmed his bones better than any tea or blanket ever could and it was all he could focus on in this moment.

A part of him continued to struggle, struggled to believe he deserved so much happiness. That he got to lay here, with her in his arms, and that things were perfectly fine, that they fit like a puzzle he’d been trying to solve his whole life. Luna’s words rang in his ears, resonating in his heart as well – I choose you.

They weren’t soulmates, but for the first time, the thought didn’t bother him. It didn’t awake any fears or doubts, it was nothing but a thought. And, compared to all the other beautiful ones she evoked, it crumbled into a minor, unimportant one.

“Don’t fall asleep, you hear me?” He let his hand run over her arm, carefully so he wouldn’t disturb her in case she already drifted away behind her closing eyes.

“Mh-hm”, she mumbled. Eventually, the movement of his chest bothered her enough to lift her head. “What?”

Another smile on his lips. She looked so adorable, and his heart calmly beat in his ribcage and he felt at home, like he belonged right here, like every other place he’d ever seen only existed to lead him to this moment, to her.

“Nothing. I’ve just been thinking.”

“You can do that?” She laughed and flipped his nose. He snorted, glad she couldn’t see the grin his mouth formed. “And what were you thinking?”, she wanted to know but before she gave him the chance to reply, she kissed him. Her hand cupped his cheek and when she pulled away, her eyes outshone the brightest of stars sparkling above their heads.

He knew with every fiber of his being that this was the perfect moment. The one golden opportunity.

“I’m in love with you, Luna.”

[lucidnebulous-blog]

A Night at Will’s Pub

(June 18, 2018-11:27 am)

It’s the space between the words that matter. As a writer, I supply a few choice details and the reader must complete the picture and fill that empty space. In that way, every reader is unique and yet one text supplies the foundation for everything.

I have similar thoughts towards music. I don’t just love music, I absorb it like Spongebob Squarepants absorbs fun and laughter. During my brief stay in Orlando with family this summer, I made it over to Will’s Pub for a show.

The website, like the bar, has a good sense of humor. Their bio reads: “Sure, the thousands of children who’ve allegedly been conceived as a result of the joint’s carnal formula of loud-ass rock ‘n’ roll and free-flowing beer is a mildly interesting footnote…Will’s Pub is basically a neighborhood bar that was colonized by the music community as soon as it opened in 1995. And that now-institutionalized culture and ethos have turned it into one of the Sunshine State’s most established live music venues and an anchor of the city’s creative district.”

As I was walking in, some already drunk guy with a size-too-small Gatorade blue blazer asked the bouncer “there’s no re-entry rules right? I’m tryna find a bar.” The bouncer, with recently dyed snow white hair, chided “bar’s inside, where you should be, and where you should stay.” Hey, I’m just here for the music. Let that guy take care of the free-flowing beer.

My first impression of Will’s Pub was that it was an arcade. I tickled with the idea of becoming Orlando’s pinball wizard but I didn’t want to make any of the locals salty. Plus, I had some music and people watching to take in. In the background, I could hear some Matt & Kim playing and I felt like hitchhiking to Maine.

Being tall at concerts has its pros and cons. Pro #1: great view from anywhere. Con #1: every short person in the venue hates your guts because if you’re not standing in front of a wall, you’re blocking somebody’s view. It’s never personal but drunk people at concerts always think it is so I just mosey my way on to the back, where I can see, and where I don’t obstruct anybody’s view. I think venues should sell an obstructed view ticket for areas behind me. They could charge like half price for indoor shows or double price if it’s an outdoor concert and people want shade.

Anyway as I looked at the latest Urban Outfitters catalog, aka the crowd, I thought that I recognized the entire cast of Superbad. Jonah Hill was doing shots with Dave Franco as they debated on what was the craziest thing James Franco ever did. Jonah said “Michael Cera.”

I was feeling as random as Christopher Mintz-Plasse at this concert, waiting for the show to begin. I wasn’t drinking and I was alone so I started writing. I was at this show under professional journalistic responsibility. I wasn’t like the guy wearing hiking boots for all of the snowy mountains in Orlando. I also wasn’t about to do some magic like Draco Malfoy who I saw in the corner. I was there in pink shoes, gray pants, purple glasses, and a trippy George Harrison shirt that really made me look like I wanted to protest the Vietnam war. I wanted to protest how long they give people in between concert sets. Going to a concert, you can get tired of standing and it takes away from your experience. You gotta work out for shows. Leading up to this show, I would go to the grocery store and stand in front of the bread aisle for hours. An employee came up to me and asked if I needed help finding anything. I told her that I knew where to find the sourdough. I was just practicing for standing at a concert.

I was nailing a caricature of someone who looked like a burned-out Justin Bieber in a knit cap when I thought that maybe I was being too mean with my descriptions. First, I think it’s a compliment for this dude because he looks like every girl’s crush from the late 2000s and it could’ve been JB himself. I don’t know what the Biebs looks like today but if he were in Orlando, a knit cap would be a good disguise. And for the record, I was looking like an awkward giant who doesn’t drink or socialize at bars but rather just writes in a little pocket notebook. Yes, we’re all freaks.

Despite the delay, by the time the show started, I was tuned in and ready to groove. As Gayle (Gay-l-e) took the stage, I started wiggling my knees, then came my hips, wrists, and the most important part: the neck. For somebody just starting out, Gayle captured my critic’s heart. She has the potential for star power and really locked into a vibe. She was a one-woman show that used the power of her voice and acoustic guitar to sound like what I imagine an Alanis Morissette concert sounded like. She was like an amateur fusion of Janis Joplin and Tracy Chapman. Yeah, I know, big praise. But she may be on to something. Her songwriting was incredibly compelling and reminded me of Courtney Barnett. She incorporated a call and response element to a few of her songs. One shout went “You can take my money / Give me your CDs.” Pretty cute and catchy.

After Gayle’s set, I hit the bathroom where I saw a mini prayer alter dedicated to Pabst Blue Ribbon. A flag of blue majestically waved at my back as I did my business. When I went to wash my hands, I saw a graffiti tag name in the mirror that said “Earth B. Flat.”

I briefly fantasized about getting pizza and watching Nickelodeon with this guy who looked like the perfect combination of Drake and Josh when suddenly the next band materialized in the corner of the stage. A woman dressed in black emerged from a guitar amp, followed by a stripped-sweater wearing, long hair having man. The two hi-fived, jumped, and tapped their heels twice. Then two more people came out of the same amp and the music started to play.

Sugar Plum’s lead singer had a very delicate accent when she sang. While she was singing, it was as if she was on the brink of losing her accent but she always held on to it. At one point it started floating up but the drummer threw a drumstick (the ice cream cone version) at it and it came down before she finished the song. Sugar Plum was a fun opener but nothing too special. Just good songs, a fascinating singer, and a great drummer. He laid down a few solos and beat-breaks that had some heads turning from beers and significant others to look at the noise.

This whole time I’ve been writing this I haven’t even mentioned who the headliner was. How rude of me! The headliner was TV Girl, a little dream synth-pop outfit outta Cali. Their brief catalog is pretty fun. They describe their music as being “something you can along to, but wouldn’t sing around your parents.” Fair enough but the music is something that I think a lot of people could agree with. The choruses were agreeable in the way that New Yorker comics are. It takes a second to get it and then once you do, you’re happy, amused, and confused in a muted way. The best thing going for TV Girl was that they turned the crowd into a dancefloor. Their biggest setback was that they were not playing music. Fred and Carrie from Portlandia showed them how to “act-play.” They got up on the stage and stood in front of fancy DJ equipment with lots of lights, switches, and buttons. They were convincing and the did actually sing. I think my favorite part was when they said that they don’t know the term puppy love in France. One of their songs, “Seven Days Until Sunday,” has the same chorus as the title. Sounds like a worthy pop chorus, doesn’t it? They’re the type of band to feign irreverence and I’m the type of writer to feign seriousness.

Because my legs felt like angel hair pre-boiling water, I decided to leave. When I opened the door, a cat ran out of a crack in the sidewalk. A sunflower instantly grew right from the same crack. I looked at the door that said “if you are racist, sexist, homophobic, or an asshole… don’t come in” with approval, made my exit, and then made some pasta.  

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent - “Quite a Stir” (Rated PG)

It's Friday dinner night and Tracy is pissed. She wants to go out and be with her friends, but Kurt puts his foot down, daring fate to intervene ...

... and fate comes through. (1722 words)

Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt "stir". This is one of the few times I write Tracy as Rachel's daughter xD Daddies!Klaine.

Read on AO3.

“How does this look, Kurt?”

Kurt peeks over his husband’s shoulder and into the pot on the stove, assessing his progress. He checks it against his iPhone screen and the gif playing of the meal that they’re making. The two look identical. Kurt gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“Looks good, everybody!”

“Yes! High-five!” Blaine wipes a hand on the apron wrapped around his waist, then raises it so his daughter can give him a high-five.

She looks at it, and him, and rolls her eyes.

Kurt sees and rolls his eyes, too. He grabs her wrist and lifts her arm so that his husband can get his high-five. Blaine taps her limp wrist with his palm, and both dad’s cheer.

Tracy rolls her eyes again, but a smile slips. She can’t help it. Her dads are too goofy.

“Okay, Kurt. What comes next?”

“Next” - Kurt scrolls down the page and continues reading the recipe - “fold in three egg whites and one egg yolk separately, careful to incorporate each one fully before adding the next.”

“Got it.” Blaine holds out a hand to his daughter, gesturing for the bowl of eggs, but she turns on her stool, putting her back to him.

“That sauce smells like puke,” she mutters, taking out her own phone and checking her messages.

Blaine reaches past her to get the eggs. “Look on the bright side - it probably doesn’t taste like puke.”

“I wanted to go to the grand opening of the new Chuck E. Cheese. Everyone from my grade is going to be there.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, little lady,” Kurt says. “I’m sure not everyone is going to be there.”

Tracy swipes angrily through her messages, then spins on her stool and flashes her dads the screen. Both men lean in to have a look at the video playing – a restaurant full of kids eating pizza, playing arcade games, laughing and running and doing what thirteen-year-olds do. When the video ends, it flips to a picture – a group shot containing pretty much every kid in her homeroom with a banner running diagonally across the screen that says Wish you were here, Trace!

Kurt and Blaine look at one another. Blaine looks guiltier than Kurt, but they’re both sympathetic. Thirteen is a difficult age. Tracy is luckier than they were at that age. She’s extremely popular. Both Kurt and Blaine can remember not being invited to the parties, not having a date to the dances, wishing they could join in and be accepted (or, in Kurt’s case, plotting his revenge).

But somewhere in New York there’s an entire rodent-themed restaurant filled with kids missing their daughter.

And she’s not there to enjoy it because her lame dads insisted on staying in and making a homemade meal consisting of a butter-sour cream-parmesan cheese sauce that smells like vomit.

“That definitely looks like her whole grade,” Blaine remarks, moving on to the next egg but with a questioning brow raised at his husband. Kurt pulls himself up straight and shakes his head.

“We can got to the Rat Pizza Palace when it’s not family dinner night. Friday night dinners are a tradition. Tonight is a night for togetherness, reconnecting with one another, and a family cooked meal.”

“But we eat dinner together every night!” Tracy complains.

“Yeah, well, the way you’ve been acting lately, that’s probably not going to last too much longer, Miss Sassy Pants. Now, let’s continue.”

“Ugh!” Tracy returns to her phone, frantically composing text after text, which Kurt can only assume include such complimentary terms as jerk, unfair, controlling, and even asshole. And as much as that breaks his heart, he can’t yield. This is too important. Being together as a family, sharing a meal, talking about their week was the cornerstone of his and his father’s relationship after his mother died. No matter what went on in their lives, no matter how many late night rehearsals or overtime at his dad’s shop took them away from one another, they always had Friday.

It was sacred.

There was a time during high school when Kurt took Friday night dinners for granted and ducked out. Not too long after, his father had a heart attack. Kurt regretted those missing Fridays for the rest of his life. Thank God his dad recovered, because if Kurt had squandered that time and didn’t get a second chance to …

Anyway, that didn’t happen. But it could have. And it’s because of that that he made the decision when Tracy was born that Friday night dinners would be sacred again.

Of course, nothing says they can’t have a family meal together outside the house …

No. No, they’ve gotten to this point. He’s put his foot down. If he folds, then that’ll just be him giving in to the demands of a girl who’s acting like a brat.

Acting like her mother.

And the same as in high school when he and Rachel butt heads, Kurt does not negotiate with terrorists.

If fate dictates that they should leave their gourmet dinner behind to go eat sub-par pizza with the same kids she’s going to see come Monday, then it’s going to have to reach out and slap that pot out of his husband’s hand.

“While slowly raising the heat, stir vigorously to get your sauce to thicken.”

“What constitutes vigorously?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know. Just, stir it fast. It needs to thicken, right?”

Blaine lifts the spoon from the pot and watches the sauce drip. “Yup. It’s about the consistency of water right now so the thicker the better, I say. Right, peanut?”

Blaine skips to Tracy’s side and nudges his daughter with his elbow. She grabs the edge of her stool and scoots it away, the feet scraping loudly across the floor. Blaine goes back to stirring, a little more amused by Tracy’s current tantrum than Kurt, but he still wants to make this up to her. His mind wanders while he stirs, trying to come up with something she might like to do over the weekend that would make her forget about tonight. The new Star Wars movie? She’d said something about wanting to go see it. He could take her, even invite a few of her friends ...

… which would probably turn into her begging him to just drop them off at the theater, or asking him to sit in the back row … or go to a completely different movie so that she can spend time with her friends alone. He sighs. When did this happen? When did their little girl go from cuddly toddler to temperamental teenager? Was he like this when he was a teenager? He can’t seem to remember …

“Uh … Daddy?”

Blaine’s ears perk up at Tracy calling him Daddy.

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“Is the sauce supposed to be doing that?”

“Wha---?” Blaine looks at the sauce he’s been stirring non-stop and sees not a thick, creamy sauce, but a frothy foam, expanding with each turn of his spoon, rising steadily to the top of the pot. Blaine is reluctant to stop stirring but not sure he should continue. “Uh … Kurt? Can you read what comes next, please?”

Kurt looks over from the salad he’s been throwing together to the recipe on his phone. “Don’t stir too vigorously, or that may cause your sauce to thicken too quickly and rise.”

“Uh …” Blaine and Tracy share a look. She hops off her stool and takes a cautious step away. “I think it’s thickening too quickly! And rising!”

Kurt turns to look, startled by the concoction now rushing to the top of the pot. “Jesus!”

“What do we do!?” Blaine asks.

“Stop stirring!”

“Won’t it burn!?”

“Turn off the heat!”

Blaine moves the pot to a cold burner and switches off the flame. Dad, dad, and daughter gather around the stove, watching the pot, waiting for the sauce to settle. But their dinner suddenly takes on a life of its own, burbling and bubbling, overflowing at an alarming rate.

“That didn’t help!”

“It’s getting all over!”

“Lay the spoon across the top!”

“That only works for pasta!”

“Put the pot in the sink!”

Blaine moves the pot to the sink. The contents slurp over the sides, leaving a trail of white spots on the floor, each one doubling in size after it lands. “It’s not stopping!”

“It has to eventually! There’s only so much sauce in there!”

“It doesn’t seem like it!”

“What now!”

“Dinner’s ruined!”

“I don’t think that’ll matter if it drowns us first!”

“God, I’m hungry,” Tracy mumbles.

Kurt and Blaine both glare at their daughter.

“I thought you said it smelled like puke?” Blaine accuses.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to eat it!”

Kurt looks at the mess that was their dinner and sighs. They followed all the directions exactly. Up until the point his screen froze and he took a moment to make a salad, everything was going fine.

Except, it wasn’t. His daughter was unhappy, his husband was torn, and he was acting like a dictator. He dared fate to step in, and apparently it did. He looks at the pot, out of his husband’s hands, spewing its contents onto the counter, and smirks.

Fate works in mysterious ways.

“Run!” he says.

“Run where?” Blaine asks, but Tracy doesn’t need to be told twice, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door.

“Where was that Chuck E. Cheese again?” Kurt says, internalizing a groan because, as much as he loves his daughter, as much as he hopes this will make things better between them, it’s still Chuck E. Cheese – a cardboard crust, tomato sauce out of a can, and cheese whose authenticity he can’t vouch for.

His stomach objects just thinking about it.

“Yes!” she cheers, hopping on her phone on the way to the door to let everyone know she’ll be there, late but fabulous (in her own words).

Just like Rachel.

Aaaaahhhhh!

“What about the mess!?” Blaine asks, worried about the possible destruction of their kitchen but relieved to be ushering a giggling Tracy out of the house and off to her friends. It’s strange, but why does it feel so good to let go?

“We’ll clean up when we get back! Just go!”

[blushing-starker]

Low key surprised this has nearly thirty notes so fast. Let's keep it going then.

Tony's used to working with Peter on the lab, of course. He isn't used to working with Peter on the lab when the kid begins helping him out with his powers.

The kid just lifts the car Tony's working on with the palm of his hand, three feet up in the air easily, wires now dangling down over the billionaire's head and that little screwdriver that had gotten stuck lands near DUM-E.

A repulsor goes off, power upped to a 100%, but he doesn't have to worry about it crashing through the roof because Peter leaps on the work table, somersaults over the Iron Man armour they're dismantling and snatches the waylaid gauntlet in three seconds. He lands softly, slides into his seat with new suggestions falling out red lips but Tony stopped thinking exactly four seconds ago.

The spider webs are the best and worst fucking thing in existence.

Peter can get him the tiniest tool from across the lab in seconds, retrieve a pair of cold sodas for them after ten hours of disarming new suits or switch on the fan so they don't die from the heat.

But Jesus, the kid leaves it everywhere. It's stuck on the ceiling, twirling down and getting in Tony's hair and coffee.

The webs are strewn from wall to wall, make a maze out of his lab and tangle his legs so much he has to slam the coffee down, call a gauntlet and torch the whole mess just to walk five feet forward.

There are days where Tony remains in the same position for hours on end, body frozen except for the whirling of hands and cocking of his head whenever a problem or puzzle arose.

And then he goes to get up and he can't because, "Parker, goddamit, come here and help me out of this! Kid, how many times, how many damn times have I told you to not web the furniture? I give him everything and this is what I get. Teenagers, I swear. Stop eating the pizza, and get here; Jarvis can see you wolfing down the pepperoni. Hey! No, leave me a slice. Peter. Peter. "

(He earns himself a punishment with that and Jarvis teases Tony because he's not nearly as fierce as he could be with Peter.)

(Low key tagging @professional-benaddict and @puppypeter just for that last one)

They take Friday's off, snuggle on the couch with twenty blankets, slushies and popcorn and homemade cookies littering the table, Star Wars on and the lights down low.

Sometimes the others will join them, Steve dropping down with Sam and Bucky (fuck endgame, long live the trio), Nat trailing Clint behind her, Wanda swooping in alongside Vision, Pepper dragging Bruce out his own lab and into theirs.

There are puppy piles. Immense, ridiculous puppy piles. Peter runs incredibly hot so he's often at the center, content with all the cuddles and hugs. He purrs, wriggles deeper into the circle and grins when Tony shoves Steve away to be closer to his boyfriend, hand messing up the blond's hair and foot nearly stomping on an impressive bicep.

When he aces or fails a test, every Avenger takes him out on something resembling a date, gladly tripping over themselves to make the boy smile and giggle helplessly.

He wears pastel sweaters and science pun shirts, cuffed jeans and beat up sneakers when they hang out in these 'dates', sometimes borrowing Stephen's cloak or Bucky's leather jacket if the wind picks up too much.

Tony is grumpy because he has to carry a blanket around for Peter while all Wanda has to do is snap her fingers and bam! It's several degrees higher.

Tony can cook, dammit, he can. He makes many of Pete's favorite foods and introduces him to a ton of Italian cuisine.

(Peter says it's only because the pasta is easy to make and it's second nature to Tony by now, not because the genius actually wants to show him new things.)

(Tony huffs and keeps hollering rock to drown out the teen's teasing remarks.)

(The Avengers have a poll.)

(They all agree Peter's right.)

(They eat ramen for the rest of the week because Tony refuses to let in the delivery guys or cook.)

(Actually, he locks down the whole kitchen after the whole fiasco.)

(It takes five hours with a slightly apologetic Peter begging and pleading between fits of laughter for Tony to sigh and let the pizza guys come in.)

Peter bakes. You think Aunt May didn't absolutely annihilate the other parents when she showed up with her pastries at the school fairs? Please.

They do the upside down kiss. Of course they do the upside down kiss.

May teaches Tony how to make a few cakes for when he's feeling high strung or particularly affectionate.

Turns out, he keeps making them no matter what and then every Avenger opens their lunch to find a slice of cake and a juice box.

(Not so different from Peter's usual lunch, Sam teases.)

(The three super soldiers steal his lunch and divide the cake while he's running after them, "Come on man, I've got a chocolate slice and some quinoa today, let me have a bit!" )

(Tony rolls his eyes, secretly pleased and happy his family likes the cakes so much, bakes a new one just for Sam afterwards, warns him with an icing covered spoon to not risk Pete's wrath again.)

(The boy really does enjoy Tony's lunch bags tho.)

(Sam buys him his fav juice boxes once he realizes they actually taste nice.)

(Juice box bros.)

I think that's enough for today lads.

I'm gonna take a nap, but first:

Headcanon #1

Anthony Edward Stark leaves Peter Parker cute little notes and messages on his textbooks. Hides snacks in the kid's backpack (and new mini lego sets on Ned's, books in MJ's, recipes on May's purse, date ideas on Happy's pocket, candy inside Pepper's suit jacket). Chocolate Iron Man candies tucked away into beat up hoodies, caramel flavored cuz Peter can't taste mint anymore. Scrawls new and improved formulas for the science experiments in his boyfriend's guidebook.

[lolcat76]

Are you still taking prompts for Six Senses? If so, could you do one where Regina's vision is getting worse and Robin tries to comfort her and reassure her he's not going anywhere.

I am so behind on Six Senses prompts, but here you go! Thanks @sometimesangryblackwoman for the advice :)

She’s not used to havinga house full of noise, but Robin’s son…even if she can’t see him, she can hearhim from a mile away. She’s lost count of all the times Robin has remindedRoland to use his inside voice. She doesn’t think he has an inside voice, but she’s not going to tell Robin that.

Roland has adjustedpretty well to spending weekends with Regina. He likes the big house – so muchmore room than his father’s townhouse in Boston – and he likes trying to climbthe apple trees in the backyard. He likes camping out in a nest of pillows inthe living room while they watch movies in the evening, burrowing againstRegina as she inches closer and closer to the big-screen TV to make out thecharacters.

He likes helping hermake popcorn at night, and breakfast in the morning. She likes it too. WhenHenry was little, she’d keep him for overnights, and having Roland in her housereminds her of those days when she’d wake up to Henry perched at the end of herbed, waiting for her to kick off the covers and make pancakes for them.

She can still make thebatter, as long as Robin lays out the ingredients for her, but she leaves it tohim to pour and flip, and she leaves it to Roland to place the chocolate chipsas the pancakes bubble and brown.

They’re nearly done withbreakfast when Robin’s phone rings, and she can tell by the tension in hisvoice that it’s his office manager. His new associate is proving to be moretrouble than he’s worth – top of his class and smart, but increasinglyunreliable when it comes to arriving on time, and she’s heard enough aboutRobin’s patients complaining about his bedside manner to know that his days arelimited, at best. She waves in the general direction of where he’s sitting andassures him that she’ll get Roland cleaned up while he deals with this latestcrisis.

She holds out her hand. “Comeon, Roland. You need a shower. You’re covered in syrup, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, buthis father does. “Use your words, son.”

She blesses him for thereminder. Roland tends to respond to questions with hums or gestures, and asmuch as she doesn’t want to admit it, it eats away at her that she can’t seethem. He takes her hand, small fingers sticky and messy, and she tugs him tothe staircase.

“We’ll make it quick,then we’ll go to the park,” she promises.

She’s in the bathroom,twisting the knobs to get the temperature just right, when she hears it. Rolandrefused to shower without the Star Wars towels that she kept on hand for Henry’svisits, and she’d sent him out to the linen closet to fetch them while shelined up soap and shampoo. She hears a crash, and a series of thuds, and ascream that curdles her blood in her veins. She goes running out of thebathroom and comes to a halt at the head of the stairs, her hand resting on thebanister. From below, she can hear Roland’s whimpers and his father’s voice,whispering soft reassurances.

She doesn’t know what’sworse, that she didn’t see Roland take a header down the stairs, or that shecan’t see them now and know how bad the damage she’s done has caused. She sinksdown against the banister and forces herself to breathe.

The echo of Robin’ssteps up the staircase pulls her back into herself. She can just make out theshadow of him approaching through her peripheral vision, two large grey blursindicating father and son. “First aid kit?” he asks, and her hands clench intofists. Roland is hurt on her watch, enough to need first aid. His mother didn’tlove the idea of Roland spending weekends with his daddy’s girlfriend as itwas, and now this. She’ll be shockedif she ever gets to see Roland again, whether it be his mother’s decision, orhis father’s.

“Under the sink,” shewhispers.

She’s still leaningagainst the banister when she hears them come out of the bathroom, Rolandhappily chattering away about climbing trees and digging in the dirt and hisnew Spongebob band-aids. Yet another relic from the days when Henry was smallerand she could kiss away his boo-boos before delivering him, relatively unharmedand mostly patched-up, to his mother.

“You still need ashower,” Robin says, and Regina’s lips curl into an involuntary smile when shehears Roland whine. “You’re covered in syrup and chocolate. You stay in thebathroom, and we’ll be there in a moment. Try not to fall down over the toilet,please.”

She can hear himapproaching, and she curls herself into a ball before he can settle next to herat the top of the stairs. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and tugs heragainst him. She wants to fight and pull herself away, but she can’t resist thesimple comfort of his skin against hers.

“He’s fine,” Robinwhispers. “Skinned elbow and a bump on his head, but he’s fine. Kids fall downstairs.”

“I didn’t see…” shestarts, but her voice hitches in her throat. “Even if I’d been standing rightthere, I wouldn’t have seen him go down. I couldn’t have done anything.”

He sighs and pulls herjust a little bit closer. “Regina, I was standing right there. I saw him slipand I saw him bounce down every single step, and there was still nothing Icould do. Kids fall. Kids wreck their bikes. Kids break their arms, and theirlegs, and they heal and life goes on.”

It sounds perfectlyreasonable, with that British accent. Almost enough that she believes it. “Marianwouldn’t have let this happen.”

Robin snorts. “Marianleft a pot of pasta on the stove while she answered a phone call, and Rolanddumped it on his head. We took him to the ER and we had DCFS grilling us in thewaiting room. Kids do stupid things, no matter how close you watch them.”

That’s the heart of theproblem, isn’t it? “But I can’t watch him, Robin. You know that, and you knowit’s only going to get worse from here. And if he gets hurt – really hurt – when I’m there, and I can’tstop it, you’re never going to forgive me. And I don’t want to put you in thatposition.”

He takes a deep breath,and she can feel his long, measured exhale against her neck. She expects him toargue with her, because they’ve only been together a short time and he’s stillwrapped up in sex and endorphins and hasn’t seen the worst of her temper. Shebraces herself, because as much as she wants Robin in her life, she doesn’twant to bear more responsibility than she can handle, and keeping his son outof harm’s way is rapidly shaping up to be just that.

“How about I tell youwhat I can forgive, and we go from there?” he says.

She pulls away, tucksher head into her arms. “Easy to say that now, when a band-aid will fix it.”

“A band-aid couldn’t fixyou, and I still love you.”

He what?

“Regina, if I think you’vecome to the point where you’re a danger to yourself or a danger to others, Ipromise you, I will address it. Calmly and rationally, as adults do. But I’mnot going to punish you for what you can’t do. And if you can’t see my sonrunning hell bent for leather and tripping over a towel, I’m not going to leaveyou for it.”

“It’s only going to getworse from here,” she reminds him.

“Sweetheart, I hate tobrag, but I’m somewhat of an expert in my field. I know exactly where it’sgoing to go from here.”

“And where is that?” shesnaps.

“Into the bathroom,where my sticky son has been left for far too long while you worry far toomuch.” He shifts away from her, and the loss of his warmth at her side throwsher until he laces his fingers in hers and tugs her to her feet. Gentle, alwaysso gentle with her. “We need to hose him down and get along with our day.”

She follows him into thebathroom, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face as Roland wrapsa skinny arm around her knees. She runs her fingers through his curls and tugsat the snarls where syrup has dried and caked his hair into a sugary, cementedmess.

“Daddy will hose youdown and Regina will dry you off,” Robin promises. He presses the Star Wars towelinto her hands, and she clutches it to her chest, happy to play her part.

“And then what?” Rolandasks.

“And then we’ll go andhave the best day ever,” Robin promises.

“Best day ever,” sheagrees, still shaky, but feeling a little bit more secure.

They get Roland throughhis shower, dressed and out the door. She walks them to the park that Henryloved, and though she can’t see the swings or the heavy wooden pirate ship, shecan hear his shouts of delight and feel him crashing into her as he begs forjust five more minutes. When they finally make it home, he hums as he eats the pizzathey’ve ordered, and falls asleep with his head in her lap. Robin takes him upto the guest room and tucks him in, then comes back downstairs to turn off allthe lights before he tugs Regina to him and pulls her up to the bedroom.

“Best day ever,” he saysas he wraps her in his arms.

Almost. “I love you,”she whispers into the darkness. His arms tighten around her and he brushes a sweet,gentle kiss along her forehead.

“I know,” he whispers in return.

Best day ever.