#please stop sending in weirdly aggressive messages

[spicybylerpolls]

You are really irresponsible for posting comments misrepresenting what people are saying. All anyone has said about El is that she isn't ready for relationship. But people take it personally and cry about how people are saying that El is a toddler forever or that she needs better grades on a test to be worthy of love. Literally no one said that. No one. But an understanding of human behavior is necessary for understanding El's story in particular and a lot of this fandom does not have the skillset or maturity to handle this. I get that El's story is complicated and a lot of people are struggling to follow it. But the hostility in response to people who are trying to explain themselves if fucking inexcusable. But by reblogging content that misinterpreted what people were posting you encouraged cyber bullying and a lot of toxic shit. This blog was supposed to be for byler content not for El content. And it was supposed to be a different place than the immature shit that usually happens. But clearly it's not. No one can have a conversation about anything in this fandom without someone twisting words around because they want to be offended and anyone who encourages this shit gets blocked by me. You aren't in middle school. You should know better than to treat people like this. If you weren't clear on what someone meant by their comment you could have asked them to clarify instead of passive aggressively posting anon comments that misrepresented the point people were trying to make.

I don't know how many times I have to explain that the purpose of this blog is not to endorse or unendorse any particular perspective or to take sides. That doesn't mean I don't have any positions on things, but the purpose of a poll blog is not to get in the way and take up too much space. There's no "cyberbullying" going on here. I agree that some of the anons I've received on this topic are misrepresenting what people are saying, but I also fully believe that everyone should be able to express their feelings and viewpoints without filter.

"You aren't in middle school. You should know better than to treat people like this. If you weren't clear on what someone meant by their comment you could have asked them to clarify instead of passive aggressively posting anon comments that misrepresented the point people were trying to make." How am I treating people like anything? I'm not the one sending in anons or "passive aggressively" saying things. This is a neutral blog with literally no agenda. My role is just to be the vessel for the questions/asks people send in.

I'm not sure why you believe only your viewpoint on the El discourse should be allowed? If people disagree and feel strongly about it, shouldn't they express their thoughts freely? I do agree that some of the questions have been very loaded, and I wish they wouldn't be.

"This blog was supposed to be for byler content, not for El content." Sure, but I think this blog is also a place for Bylers to discuss any spicy stranger things-related topic they feel like discussing. El is related to Byler, so it makes sense why some people want to discuss her. There was never any hard limits on questions/topics/discussions.

You're the one who is coming in here with opinions and feelings on what this blog should and shouldn't be, but if you feel that strongly, you should run your own blog instead of trying to control others. The irony of this ask is that you don't see how you're being toxic too. It's not cyberbullying to be a marketplace of different ideas.

I understand your frustration, and you've probably blocked me already so you won't see this (in fact, I'm 99% certain who you are- actually who both of you are, looking at the context now). But it's impossible to run a blog and literally make everyone happy. Someone is bound to get upset about something, and that's the sad truth. There's a lot of people with strong opinions about a wide range of topics, and so I try to be as fair and neutral to all as possible so that everyone feels welcome here. I'm sorry that you don't feel that way.

💙💛

[skaruresonic]

I've been sort-of lurking and sort-of anonning your tiny corner of the internet for a bit (not a lot tbf) and I have to say...although there's a lot of harsh words you guys have for Sonic adaptation fans/adaptation media, and although I'd fall into the not-really-a-fan category (i just think Paramount's version of Sonic is adorable and a bit deeper than a puddle, ok?? i'm not good at games enough to dip my feet into them) and should probably feel more offended that you'd probably consider me fake...Seeing all of the random, toxic shit you guys take regularly from other Sonic/Flynn fans, enough to force several of you offline or out of the fandom (Crusher, Colony), as well as a weirdly aggressive push that Game!Sonic has zero good characterization and Sega is the worst company in the world, instead of having bad translations and honestly very subtle character traits that get wiped out of the dubs...I mean, I get it. Y'all are dealing with some extreme weirdos and it's colored everything. I wish more people could leave well enough alone, but I guess Sonic is considered one of 'those' fandoms for a reason. Aside from that, I wanted to say that I think your OaS VN is cool and interesting, I look forward to playing it some more, I like lurking Beevan and Dark's tumblrs because I think they have neat things to say, and please don't let the trolls and haters get you and your friends down for long. I'm sending this off anon so you know I'm serious, but this is a super old tumblr account I only use for lurking.

Ahh, sorry for not responding sooner. I wasn't really sure what to say. Rest assured, I appreciate you taking the time out to send this message and appreciate your kind words. ^^

and although I'd fall into the not-really-a-fan category (i just think Paramount's version of Sonic is adorable and a bit deeper than a puddle, ok?? i'm not good at games enough to dip my feet into them) and should probably feel more offended that you'd probably consider me fake…

When I say "normies," I mean non-Sonic fans. Specifically the kind of non-fan who has a preconceived notion of what Sonic is like. Often, it's not a flattering one.

Likewise, it is not my intention to gatekeep when I say "play the games": it's just a plea for the general public to stop throwing games canon under the bus and try to see what is actually there.

I don't have beef with film fans in general. The people I have beef with continuously assert that their favorite spinoffs are better than the games. That they're equal replacements for the games when the games form the core canon.

Personally, I don't think the films are faithful to the games; they have been seriously watered-down to appeal to a mainstream audience and appear to be afraid of leaning into the "Sonic-ness" of the series on which they're based.

But, at the same time, I'm not gonna go around dictating what people can and cannot like. My nephew watches the films every day. I'm not gonna tell him "YOU'RE A FAKE FAN" over the media he enjoys. I just think if you (general you) are going to enter spaces for Games!Sonic discussion, then it would behoove you to be as familiar with the source material as you can.

Heck, at this point, I'd take people watching LPs of the games. Not a perfect system, but it's better than nothing.

---

Seeing all of the random, toxic shit you guys take regularly from other Sonic/Flynn fans, enough to force several of you offline or out of the fandom (Crusher, Colony), as well as a weirdly aggressive push that Game!Sonic has zero good characterization and Sega is the worst company in the world, instead of having bad translations and honestly very subtle character traits that get wiped out of the dubs…I mean, I get it.

It's just frustrating and tiring. When I was ounger, I assumed Sonic discussion would be awesome once I grew old enough to manage a social media account, but now it's like we have to trip and stumble over every misconception littered about on a daily basis. Can't go anywhere without folks insisting that the games are deficient somehow, even if they couch it in softer terms like "Sonic is inconsistent." Okay, but what if I don't agree with that idea?

People call us a cult while forgetting that we're just a group of friends who so happen to really like blue zoom-zoom hedgehog games while agreeing to disagree on other aspects. We don't even all like the same games, lol. We allow each other the space to disagree, whereas in larger spaces, you can't really speak your mind without somebody hounding you.

That's literally it. Everything else is frustration that anti-Sonic bias is so rampant that you can't even post screenshots or point out facts without someone thinking you're trying to start a fight.

And I know we aren't perfect, but like… At this point, I'm just really tired. That cannot be understated lol.

---

Y'all are dealing with some extreme weirdos and it's colored everything. I wish more people could leave well enough alone, but I guess Sonic is considered one of 'those' fandoms for a reason.

Sometimes I wonder if BITE model of social control applies here, the extremes to which more virulent fans cannot handle the presence of different opinions. I know I'm an offender in overgeneralizing, too, but I swear you hear some variation of "Sonic fans suck because they all think [insert argument du jour]" on Twitter almost every day.

---

Aside from that, I wanted to say that I think your OaS VN is cool and interesting, I look forward to playing it some more,

Thanks ^^ Glad you enjoy it.

---

I like lurking Beevan and Dark's tumblrs because I think they have neat things to say, and please don't let the trolls and haters get you and your friends down for long.

Thanks. Recently I've been banging my head against a wall because of SH2 remake stuff moreso than anything else. Kind of wonder if this whole cycle of "hype new thing up and strawman any criticism as the product of diehard haters" is just how fandom operates now. It's a little disturbing to see the same dynamics play out in vastly different fandoms because I'm already really wiped out by this one >.>

[cascowriteswords]

4 in the moment kiss where they’re enemies to lovers. Maybe coworkers? 🤔

I technically cheated and combined these two but I think it's okay because it ended up being over 3k words 😅

...

“How do I say you’re fucking insane if you think I’m doing all of this without getting fired immediately?” Clarke asks Raven, who sits in the cubicle across from hers. 

“The new boss?” Raven asks, still typing away without taking her eyes from her screen. Looking to be just about as overloaded as Clarke feels. 

“Yeah. She’s already getting on my nerves because she’s rescheduled our initial meeting like 4 times now. And she keeps sending me things that don’t even have anything to do with my department. I’m the director of People and Culture. I'm not a recruiter. I’m not in marketing. And I’m sure as shit not her personal assistant either. And it’s like -” she glances at the corner of her screen for the time “3 o’clock. I’m supposed to do the jobs of 4 people and still get out by 5? Or does she expect me to pull overtime on a Friday night? Like there’s no way I could possibly have plans. Maybe she’s one of those people who thinks that just because I’m not married and don’t have kids she can shove off everyone else's work on me.”

“Lexa’s a busy person Clarke. I really don’t think it’s personal.”

“Personal or not, it’s not fucking happening. So help me with this email or else your next cube neighbor might be some insufferable old white guy whose all-natural deodorant is just really not working for him.”

Raven relents, finding a stopping point in whatever exactly she’s doing to get up and shoo Clarke out of her chair. She ends up deleting 98% of what Clarke had written, swapping out phrases like “why the fuck didn’t you tell me you needed this done sooner” and “that’s not my fucking problem” with more diplomatic phrases such as “I’ll schedule those meetings for you at your earliest availability” and “I wasn’t involved with that project but I will forward your request to the appropriate parties”, respectively. 

“You’re weirdly good at that for someone with the smartest mouth I know,” Clarke commends her when she’s finished. 

“It’s all about balance, babe. Now can I please get back to my job? Or the Commander’s going to fire us both. Maybe your mom will let us turn her study back into your bedroom and we can crash there when we can’t make our rent next month.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Then something registers. “Wait. The Commander? Is that what people are calling her?” she asks, a mixture of disbelief and disgust seeping into her voice. 

“Yeah,” Raven shrugs. 

“I get that she’s the boss but she’s not commanding me to do anything,” Clarke grumbles. She plops back down in her chair and starts typing angrily. 

“If you add anything to that that gets you fired after I just rewrote the whole thing for you I’m going to be so pissed,” Raven warns. 

“I’m not,” Clarke promises. “I just don’t want her to think she can walk all over me. Command me,” she adds, rolling her eyes. 

She ends the email with Hope this helps, let me know if you would like to meet with me to go over the roles of our departments and their directors to avoid misallocation of time and resources in the future and hits send. She hopes it's just passive-aggressive enough to get the message across without being able to be used against her.

She goes back to work, furiously attempting to complete the tasks The Commander had unloaded on her. She may not have kids or a significant other waiting for her at home but she does have a cat and a bottle of red wine and a new episode of her favorite shitty reality TV show to watch. 

So far the new boss has taken 2-3 days to return any of her emails. So she isn't expecting it at all when she gets the notification that someone has replied to the email she just sent an hour ago. 

That sounds like a great idea. Come up whenever you are ready. 

Clarke's initial reaction is oh shit. Followed in rapid succession by annoyance and frustration when she has the realization that it's already past 4 o'clock now and this means she most definitely will not be getting out on time, not that there was much hope she would, anyway. But still. 

She needs to learn to keep her big stupid mouth shut. 

"It was nice knowing you," she grumbles to Raven as she gets up and smooths the wrinkles from her slouch out of her shirt. Raven quirks a brow but seems otherwise unfazed as Clarke shuffles toward the elevator and her impending doom. 

…

…

Clarke knocks three times, half hoping to not be heard so she can say she tried and return to her desk. 

No such luck. 

“Come in.” The voice is muffled by thick oak and considerable distance but Clarke manages to catch it. She steadies herself and lifts her chin, prepared to simultaneously defend herself and give The Commander a piece of her mind as she opens the door and steps into her office. 

She’s wholly unprepared for the woman she finds sitting behind the desk. 

She isn’t sure what she was expecting but it definitely isn’t this. Lexa looks young, for starters, nearly the same age as Clarke. Her features are somehow both delicate and sharp, with high cheekbones and pouty lips and big round eyes that Clarke can’t quite figure out the color of at first glance. Chestnut hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun like it was originally down but she’d had enough by the end of the day, strands towards the front not contained by the hair tie and instead framing her face. 

Clarke’s first impression is that this might be the most attractive woman she’s ever seen in her life. Her second is that she looks tired. And her third, more of an observation than an impression, is that it looks like a bomb went off in this office. There are papers literally scattered all over the floor, boxes stacked along the walls and windows that would normally boast an expansive view of the skyline, and the couch against the far wall looks like it’s been functioning as a dresser and changing room of sorts with slacks and button down blouses draped over its back and arms. 

Between Lexa’s unexpected prettiness and the warzone that is her office Clarke momentarily forgets why she’s here and that she was even mad to begin with. 

“I apologize for the state of my office,” Lexa says, likely having followed Clarke’s gaze around the room. “It’s been a whirlwind trying to get everything in order around here. Titus gave us no warning about his departure and apparently was trying to run this company into the ground, by my estimations after going through what I could of the data.” She sighs, finishing scribbling something down onto a sticky note which she adds to a pile of other sticky notes on the left side of her desk. “Sit, please,” Lexa tells her, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. 

Clarke has that tongue-tied feeling that she only gets around pretty women. And that - cannot be how she feels sitting across from her new boss, especially not as the leader of People and Culture. She forces herself to speak, reminding herself why she’s here and what her end goal is; to not get fired while also putting her foot down about the scope and limitations of her role. She decides to get right down to business, voicing her concerns, and finds Lexa to be… a very good listener. She listens so well and intently, in fact, that Clarke almost finds herself losing her train of thought because those eyes. 

And then she does something Clarke had absolutely not expected her to do - she agrees with her about the general mismanagement occurring and state of disarray in the company and asks for her input about the best way to move forward. She apologizes for sending a slew of information and tasks her way and explains that she never meant for Clarke to complete all of that work on her own or immediately but rather to delegate and get to things when she had the time. She thanks Clarke for her hard work and dedication and tells her that even though this is their first formal meeting she’s well aware of the hard work she does and is very thankful for her contributions to the team. 

Clarke’s been working in corporate culture long enough to be able to tell when someone is just blowing smoke up her ass. When scrutinizing Lexa’s words, all she gets is that she seems like one of the most genuine, down-to-earth people she’s ever met. She’s just swamped, stressed out, and working insane hours trying to fix all of the various fuck ups Titus made over the past 4 years as CEO. 

Very much to her surprise, she finds herself sympathetically offering to help Lexa get some things sorted out. And again to her surprise, she finds that she doesn’t mind staying and working in Lexa’s office with her, spending time helping her delegate work to other departments and creating a realistic timetable for the next few weeks with attainable goals. Clarke tells funny stories about some of the department heads as they work and Lexa spills secrets about the board members she works with after swearing Clarke to secrecy. 

She doesn’t even realize how much time has gone by until Lexa glances at the clock on the wall and looks at her from across her desk, stricken. “You should go home. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’s already after 7. Thank you for all of your help, you really didn’t have to do all of this.”

Clarke didn’t have to. She definitely did not expect to want to when she had sullenly ridden in the elevator up here. Raven probably thinks she got herself kicked out of the 5th-floor window since she never came back to her cubicle. But now she finds herself reluctant to leave, especially knowing that Lexa will likely be here all night continuing to work. 

“Did you have dinner yet?”

Lexa looks up from her computer screen slowly. “I haven’t.”

"You just moved here, right? Have you been to Tomatoes yet?" 

"I haven't," Lexa says again. 

"It's a little hole-in-the-wall spot. Kind of…lackluster, but their tacos are to die for and the bartender is awesome. Would you want to go?"

"Now?" Lexa asks, pointedly surveying her desk that is, despite having been organized, still loaded with paperwork to be sorted through. 

"Yes, now. You've been here all day - I know because I've been here all day and you were here before me. Those papers will l still be here Monday." Lexa looks doubtful as she chews the inside of her lower lip. "Or tomorrow if you insist on working the weekend. But let's be done for the night. Both of us." 

This is so not how Clarke thought her night would go; standing in front of Lexa, her boss, The Commander, and trying to lure her out to the bar for tacos and a drink. Genuinely hoping she'll accept because even though they've been working she's actually had the most fun she's had in a while and she's not quite ready for it to end. 

Lexa looks at her thoughtfully, meeting her eyes. She glances down at her desk once more and then exhales, tossing her pen into a drawer as she shuts down her computer. She stands up and grins at Clarke as she takes her jacket off the back of her chair and shrugs it over her shoulders. 

"Alright. Let's go try these tacos, then." 

…

…

“You have to be kidding me.” 

Lexa turns around and hits Clarke with a smug, triumphant little smile. Then looks back at her achievement, a dart nestled solidly in the red bullseye circle of the dartboard, surrounded by Clarke’s failed attempts scattered haphazardly across the board. She’d gotten it on her first try, standing several feet further back than she even had to.

“You lied to me. There’s no way you’ve never thrown a dart before.”

“Do I look like I frequent establishments that have dartboards, Clarke?” Lexa asks, quirking a brow in challenge. 

No, she doesn’t. Not in the pantsuit she’s wearing, even after she shed her coat and blazer shortly after they’d arrived. One half of her shirt has come out of its tuck and the top few buttons are undone, the collar sagging open and offering the view of just a hint of collarbones on either side. Her cheeks are a little flushed from the one beer she’s had and she looks messy but somehow still put together. She’s undeniably beautiful, and she stares at Clarke expectantly waiting for some kind of comeback, unaware that Clarke can hardly think when she’s standing there looking like that. Existing in her space. Out of her comfort zone but still self-assured and confident. She’s unbelievably attractive, beyond what Clarke had even perceived when she got her first look at her earlier in the day. 

She’s so screwed.

“No, you don’t,” Clarke admits with a sigh. “I’ve been trying for months to get a bullseye. You must just have some kind of natural technique with your fingers.”

Lexa opens her mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it. But Clarke’s not having any of that. “What were you about to say?” she asks. “I don’t need you to pity me, Raven kicks my ass at darts on the regular.”

Lexa doesn’t answer right away, looking at Clarke like she’s searching for something. Clarke can’t tell if she finds it but waits patiently. “It’s not appropriate,” she says after a moment. 

Interest - piqued. “We aren’t at work right now,” Clarke reminds her. 

“But you’re human resources, essentially,” Lexa laughs, a little nervously. “Seems like a grey area.”

“We don’t call it HR because of the negative association that’s been tied with it over the years. Like this, it makes people nervous. So yeah, I’m technically HR, but I’m not a narc. And you’re the CEO anyways.”

“Which makes it an even greyer area.”

“Lexa, come on. We’ve been having a good time, right?”

She nods. Weighs her options for just a few more seconds and then says, “I was just going to say that I’ve been told I have a natural technique with my fingers before. In…other contexts.”

It takes a second for Clarke to process and then - oh. Oh. 

She’s glad she hadn’t taken another sip of her drink because she might have choked on it. 

She swallows, trying to gather herself, absolutely not letting herself take a closer look at Lexa’s hands because she’s already noticed that they’re nice but she hasn’t scrutinized them beyond that. “That was extremely inappropriate, Miss Woods,” she says, calling on her stern business-woman voice that she’s perfected over years of dealing with employee relations issues. 

Lexa’s eyes widen. “Clarke, I told you that I didn’t want to overstep. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have -”

Clarke doesn’t have the heart to watch her flounder for more than a few seconds. She cuts her off. “It was inappropriate, but I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” She feigns more confidence than she feels as she puts a hand on Lexa’s knee reassuringly. A small gesture to make it so that Lexa isn’t the only one who has crossed a line tonight. Lexa looks a little shell-shocked, looking up and down between Clarke’s hand and her face enough times that it’s almost comical. Clarke squeezes her leg once and then lets go, standing up from the stool she’d been sitting on as she watched Lexa play darts. “Come on, let’s go sit at the bar. The next thing I want to make you try is their southwest egg rolls.”

She grabs Lexa’s hand like it’s no big deal at all and pulls her towards two open seats. 

…

…

Clarke’s not sure that Lexa has ever eaten greasy bar finger food before but the southwest egg rolls are definitely a hit. The noises Lexa makes as she eats them tell her as much, and also do things to her. But they don’t affect her half as much as watching Lexa amicably interact with some of the old townies who are also sitting at the bar with them. It turns out Lexa knows enough about baseball to hold her own talking to Bonafide Baseball Expert Jim McDonnel and she doesn’t bat an eye when a very drunk Mary Lou bumps into her seat and then talks about her 13 cats for five minutes until the bartender mercifully calls her attention back down to the other end of the bar where her actual seat is. 

Clarke feels a little bad for subjecting high-class Lexa to this place but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, when she turns to look at Clarke her eyes are bright and her smile is genuine and she says, “Thanks for showing me this place. It’s great.”

Clarke kind of adores her and her big dopey smile. And that’s a really scary thought to be having about her boss of all people but she’s rolling with it. Whatever it is between them, chemistry or connection or some other unnamed thing, it’s off the charts.  And Clarke can’t take it anymore, especially knowing that the night is starting to come to a close. 

Lexa is already sitting close enough that their knees are knocking together and it’s not much distance to close between their mouths at all. She doesn’t have the tact or inhibition to do it slowly, just leans in and kisses Lexa like she’s been wanting to do all night. It’s heated and languid immediately and she finds Lexa only needs a fraction of a second to adjust to her surprise before she’s kissing back, open-mouthed and hungry. 

It’s stupid Jim McDonell’s hooting and hollering that breaks them apart less than a minute later, reminding them that they’re very much in public and kissing in a way that is very much not chaste. 

A realization that is quickly followed by the fact that Clarke just kissed her boss. “Sorry,” she says quickly, trying to catch her breath. 

Lexa holds her gaze. Licks her lips like she’s trying to taste what’s left of Clarke on them. Clarke tries not to visibly squirm in her chair as she watches, and looks back up when Lexa finally says something. “No you aren’t.”

Clarke’s alma mater would probably revoke her degree if they heard her response. “No, I’m not.” Lexa smirks, then not so subtly looks at Clarke’s mouth, desire clear in the intentness of her gaze. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

When Lexa’s eyes flick up they’re darker than they were before. Heat flares in the confines of Clarke’s lower stomach and settles between her legs. “Very much so.”

Clarke’s hand flies up, flagging down the bartender to close out their tab without taking her eyes off Lexa. She tips generously and laughs when Lexa grabs her hand and tugs her hurriedly back towards the car. 

On second thought, maybe she should open her big fat mouth more often.

[fairyoftbz]

[13:27]

🎄Day 1 of the Christmas project🎄

Last day of November. It felt like the entire world was hit by a tidal wave of cold, freezing everyone on its way. Wrapped in your coat, you were taking hurried baby steps on the slippery pavement, the only thing that you wanted was to go home and stay under a hot shower for the following hour. You were legitimately freezing, fingers almost going numb despite your thick gloves. It felt like the low temperature got more and more aggressive throughout the past years, despite your choice of warm clothes.

But, as you paced down towards the exit of the university perimeter to go to the nearest Starbucks to buy a coffee, you felt something hit you on the shoulder. It was swift, round, and cold.

A snowball, the puffiness of your winter jacket fortunately toning the impact down, because it landed on your shoulder with quite some strength.

Turning around, you see a bunch of students fooling around in the snow, two of them staring at you from afar. You relaxed a bit when you noticed their childish behaviour, shrugging it off as you continued on your way, knowing that it wasn't probably aimed at you. One was trying to hide behind his friend, probably the culprit. Thinking that he wasn't going to say anything, you just kept on walking, ready to accomplish your mission of getting a warm beverage before going home. However, the student took the responsibility upon himself and jogged towards you, a hand gently landing on your upper arm to stop you from walking away.

"Hey, um, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to aim at you. Did I hurt you?" You looked up and noticed a good-looking man in front of you, somewhat out of breath, the tip of his nose bright red because of the cold.  "It's fine, don't worry about it," you shrugged it off with a smile as the man in front of you worryingly looked at you because, well, he had some strength and threw a snowball at full speed directly towards you.

It was meant for his friend - Sunwoo - but the latter managed to dodge at last minute, avoiding the projectile which hit you. You were sure that you would have a small bruise from the shock tomorrow morning, but it didn't matter, it wasn't like you were clutching your shoulder, gasping for air.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked again as he gently wiped the remaining snow off your coat, a smile appearing on his face when he looked at you. His gesture felt comforting and reassuring. He was kind of cute, you weren't going to lie. He was pleasant to look at. "I'm just glad I had my coat on," you giggled at your words but immediately stopped as you saw that he was still being serious, "no but don't worry, I'm just more startled than hurt, you don't have to worry too much about it," you reassured him with a smile.  "Jae! Stop flirting and come back, we're leaving!" you heard a male voice coming from behind, followed by a few snickers from his other friends.  "I guess your friends are calling you," you vaguely gestured towards the other young men behind him. You were about to bid farewell to him when he gently grabbed your forearm, again. 

"They can wait. I don't mean to come off as a creep but... Do you think... I could get your number? I wanna apologise by offering you a cup of coffee some time." Now, his nose wasn't the only red thing, his cheeks were practically glowing like a red light. You were surprised that a man ever approached you like this, it was the first time, and you didn't know what to say or do. "O-Only if you want it, of course," He immediately added as he took your silence for a form of doubt and you blinked a few times as you tried to think of a negative point about giving him your number. What could go wrong?  "No, no, it's f-fine," you were stumbling on your words, something that Hyunjae found quite endearing, as well as your reddening cheeks.

He took his phone out of his coat pocket and handed it for you to enter your number. You took the device with shaky hands, not sure if it was due to the cold or the man in front of you. Maybe both. 

Probably both. 

As you handed him his phone back, your fingers accidentally brushed, sending electricity down your spine. This situation seemed so unreal, so scripted that you started to think that you were the main character in a cliché Christmas movie. The young, handsome man randomly meeting you, the tender looks, the flirting. Oh god, stop Y/N, you're starting to blush!

"Thanks... Y/N," he said as he read what you've just entered on his phone, your name rolled off his tongue very naturally. "I guess I'll see you around. And again, I'm very sorry for hurting you," you gave him a soft smile as you reassured him one last time before parting ways, your mind still clouded that a gorgeous person like him just bluntly asked for your number and flirted with you.

The following day after the incident, you found the time to have lunch together as a first date, to which you were quite nervous, and a bit taken off guard. Hyunjae seemed genuinely a sweet man when you texted him, his words considerate and attentive, making you laugh and blush at the same time. This motherfucker was good at flirting, damn.

You arrived at the coffee shop you had both agreed on going a few minutes before the hour given, and Hyunjae was already there. Hiding for a few seconds near the entrance, you made sure that your hair and your makeup still looked good as when you had gotten ready in the morning.  Greeting the barista with a smile, you immediately paced to Hyunjae's table, where he was waiting for you while checking his phone. 

"Hi!" you sweetly said, and he looked up, his face lighting up when your eyes met. He looked like a model with his black turtleneck and navy-blue darted trousers, you were relieved to see that you had both made an effort to dress appropriately for your first-time meeting.  "Hi, Y/N," he stood up and gave you a light hug before drawing out the chair for you. Your cheeks immediately went up in flames, not anticipating this act of chivalry from him.  "Thank you," you said as you comfortably sat in the chair, the waiter coming to take your order.  "I'll have the English brunch with a cappuccino please," you said, and Hyunjae placed his order as well.

The date went well, you couldn't be happier. He was the same as in his messages, sweet, gentle, and caring, that's all you needed to feel comfortable with a man. While you were waiting for your food, he had his arms crossed on the table, and his upper body slightly shifted forward, you knew that his attention was on you and only you.

"I-I think your phone is buzzing," you said as you stopped explaining something to him, your forefinger pointing at the vibrating device next to him.  "Doesn't matter, it can wait," he stated as he lowered the button of the side of the phone, making it immediately go silent.

Much to your relief, he wasn't the type that only talked about himself, he was also very attentive and didn't hesitate to ask about your centres of interests or the subjects of your major. He was a marketing student, and you were studying political sciences, so you still had some things to talk about even if it wasn't related to you or your private life. When you were both done eating, you had tried to pay the bill, but he just wouldn't let you. And since you didn't want to throw a tantrum in the middle of the coffee shop, you politely thanked him.

"You'll pay next time," he replied, shooting you a wink with a smile as he handed the waiter his credit card.  "N-next time ?!" your reaction wasn't long in coming, making your date chuckle as he got his card back, as well as a receipt.   "All right, let's go," he said, ignoring your widened eyes while you absentmindedly put on your coat, still dazed by the words that came out of his mouth a few seconds ago.

When you got out of the building, the cold was there to attack again, biting at any showing skin unprotected by an item of clothing. As you nested your nose in the side of your coat, you couldn't help but let your mind wander as you imagined how it would feel to be in his arms right now. Not knowing how or why he looked hella comfortable and warm to you. Your brain couldn't look at him without saying: a source of warmth. Must hug. Maybe it was his big, puffed coat and woollen scarf, you didn't know, but your body was ready to throw itself into his arms at any point. However, you had another idea, cuddling has to wait a bit.

What about payback? Mh?

You seized the opportunity that Hyunjae was distracted looking at the buildings around you to gather some snow in your bare hands, the contact of your skin with the white powder sending chills up your arms. Shaping the snow with your hands, you quickly managed to create a snowball, slightly hiding it as Hyunjae was sometimes looking at you with a smile. When he made the mistake to have his back turned to you while looking at the front of a shop, you aimed and threw the snowball at him.

The projectile surprised him as it landed in the middle of his back, making him turn around. His face showed nothing but surprise before turning into mischief as he glanced at you with a smirk.

"You think you can get away with this, uh?" he mumbled, loudly enough for you to hear as you started trotting away while giggling, gathering some snow on the way to make another ball, ready to defend yourself. "Come back here, little madam," your laughter increased in embarrassment at the pet name, feeling your cheeks lightly blush as you didn't think he'd ever say something like that.

You started having a snowball fight in the middle of the park, some adults looking at you either adoringly or weirdly, but you both didn't care. You were in your game, your bubble. For once, you couldn't care less about what the other people around you thought of you. Currently, having fun with your date was more important to you than anything else.

A few minutes later you stopped a bit out of breath, shivering as you chased each other for a while.

"Come on," he said while extending his hand towards you, "you look cold, let's get going."

He was right, your hands were turning red and numb since you didn't have any gloves on. You grabbed his hand, and he plunged them in his coat pocket, keeping you close to him. While you rode the bus on the way to your apartment, you sat next to each other and carried on with speaking, as if you were still on your date at the café.  You were hopeful that Hyunjae was feeling the same as you did, and the light he had in his eyes as he looked at you, as well as his actions completely erased your doubts. Your hands were trapped between his two gloved ones, sometimes blowing hot air on them, or vigorously rubbing them together to create some warmth. This kind of gesture had your heart racing, scared that he would hear it from your proximity.

When you both stepped out of the elevator to arrive at your door, you fumbled with your keys with your frozen fingers and unlocked your front door, not knowing how to part ways.

"D-do... you want a cup of coffee or s-something else?" you offered, but he shook his head with a smile.  "It's very sweet from you Y/N, but I have to attend a lecture in a few minutes," he said as he got closer to you, his warm hands cupping your cold face.  "Good luck, and thank you for this date," you hesitantly mumbled, and he smiled, kissing your forehead before taking a step back.

You almost collapsed at the display of affection and smiled as he walked back to the elevators, shooting you a wink before pressing the button to call it.

"I'll give you a call when I get back to my apartment," he said, and you nodded, waving at him as he stepped into the machine, "oh, and make sure to warm up your hands by drinking tea, it's important to keep yourself warm!" "I will. See you soon!" you said before locking your door, heart filled with feelings for the charming uni student that threw a snowball at you a few days ago.

[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars in Your Eyes

THIS IS PART 2 OF TO THE MOON AND BACK

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3

A/N: I’m thinking of starting a one-shot “series” based off of songs, send me a message with any songs you want to see! Also, Entropy...

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

Word Count: 4,703

1/13/2016

“Spencer?” A woman approached the table Reid was sitting at.

The way Spencer’s face changed when he saw made you uneasy, “Cat? 

“Hi!” for a hitwoman she seemed weirdly approachable.

“Hi,” the monitor set-up in the kitchen for you showed your husband standing across from a beautiful young woman.

“Hi,” she gave him a warm smile.

“Hello. Hi. Hi. Nice to finally,” you saw her go in to give him a hug and he pulled away. “Oh--sorry, I have a-- a germ thing. Oh. I'm kind of weird with hu-hugs.” 

“Sorry,” she didn’t mean it. “Can I sit down?”

“Yes, please,” he gestured to the seat across from him. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sit down.” 

“First time doing this?” she smiled. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I mean, yeah.” 

“Yeah, I--I still get nervous, too,” she was trying her best to be friendly. “Really, it wasn't until an hour ago that I was like, wait, we've been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like.”

“Hence the,” he pointed at the red rose in front of her. You were tapping your foot and biting your nails at the sight of your husband on a ‘date’ with another woman.

“I know,” she giggled. “And then I was like, wait, he's going to bring a red rose, so we need to go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last-minute.”

“Not a problem at all,” he had his beautiful smile on his face.

“And now I need to change and put something nice on for this place, 'cause I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian,” Reid had a confused look on his face. “You know who that is, do you?”

“No, oh, yeah, Robert Kardashian, He got O.J. Simpson off. You--you don't look like his daughters,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, no, I was making a joke about them,” she seemed to be annoyed. 

“No, it was good,” he smiled. “It was a good joke.” 

“No, it wasn't,” she giggled.

“It was funny.” 

“Can we start over?” she asked. “Hi, I'm Cat.”

“Hi,” he stumbled over his words. “I'm Spencer.”

“It really is nice to meet you, in person, finally,” she shrugged. “It's nice to meet you. Tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you really have 3 Ph.D.s?” 

“Yes. Um, I--yeah, I do, I have 3 Ph.D.s.”

“What was your favorite book that you read last year?” she asked.

“Um, honestly, I've never read a book I didn't love,” Reid sheepishly responded.

“Tell me about your wife,” she leaned forward.

“If you don't mind, I'd, uh, I'd rather not talk about her,” he cleared his throat.

“Might as well get it out in the open, right?” she seemed to let out a small laugh. “That's why we're here. How long have you been married?”

“4 years,” in reality you and Reid had only been married for 7 months.

Cat paused,“when is she due to give birth?” 

“Uh…” Reid’s voice got quiet. “A couple of-- a couple of months. Should we talk about price now, or…”

“Slow down, tiger,” she cut him off. “What exactly are we negotiating here?”

“You know,” he looked around. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“To have her killed,” the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Reid would never say such a thing about you.

“Let me see your ring,” her voice sounded much more chipper. Reid did as she asked and gave her his hand. He insisted on buying a new ring, insisting he didn't want her anywhere near you. “You know what that is? A noose. Only it doesn't kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day. You ever feel that way?”

He nodded, “I feel that way all the time.” It was unsettling seeing him talk so poorly of you.

“Take it off,” she commanded. 

“Why?” he smiled.

“As a sign of your commitment,” she seemed so proud of herself. “To me.” You watched as he took off his ring and placed it in her hand.

“If she sticks to the pattern, she'll take him to a secondary location and kill him,” you heard JJ’s voice over your com. 

“We're not gonna let it get that far,” Rossi was sitting at a table and JJ was at the bar. “Hotch, do you have a visual?”

Just hacked in,” Garcia’s voice made you a lot calmer than before. 

“All right,” Hotch said, “we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?” you saw Reid look at the camera. “All right, all agents stand by. Dr. Reid will give the green light. Don't move until we have it. Y/N are you there?” 

“Yes, sir,” the hustle and bustle of the kitsch made it harder for you to hear but you managed.

“Remember you do not engage unless absolutely necessary,” he reminded you of the deal you made the week prior.

“I know,” you smirked.

“24-karat?” She asked. Reid nodded. “24k times... 4 years means this ring should be dinged and nicked. But the sucker is brand-new. You're not married.” You could hear the sound of a gun cocking. Reid was tapping his finger on his hand. You realized he was trying to say something in morse code. You got a pen and napkin from a waitress to write it down, ‘she doesn’t know about you.’

“What was that? Was that what I think it was?” you could hear how flustered Garcia was.

“Everybody hold,” Hotch commanded. 

“Why are we here, Spencer?” Cat asked.

“We're here because you belong to a network of 4 hitmen who've been operating in the shadows of the Internet,” Reid calmly explained. “You're known as Miss .45. My team and I have been hunting for months, and I knew that if I boxed you in, I could arrest you with as little resistance as possible.”

“Your team being the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI?” she paused. “You guys are good. You're the only ones that got close to us. But we got kind of close to you, too, didn't we? Hi, Penelope. Do you know why I'm so good at my job?”

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse.” 

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” she leaned closer to him. “No, it's because I think through every potential outcome and then I plan accordingly. You see, I didn't walk into your trap. You walked into mine. Where's your head, Spencer? What are you thinking about?” You watched as she moved closer to him.

“I was thinking about entropy,” she was feeling him up. “It's the thermodynamic measure of the degradation of matter and energy in the universe. To put it another way--”

She pulled his gun from his belt, “there's your gun.”

“Good evening,” the waiter approached the table. 

“Hi, uh, you know what?” she smiled. “We've been having so much fun getting to know one another, we'll let you know when we're ready, ok? Thank you.” The waiter left and she returned to torturing your husband. “Now that we got that out of the way, will you do me a favor and tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

“JJ, stand down,” Hotch commanded.

JJ stodd from her seat at the bar and headed for the kitchen. “Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat shouted as JJ walked past.

“If she learns how many agents we have outside, she'll start shooting,” Hotch said. “Dave, get ready to take her out. Reid, do not let her get up from the table.”

“All right, you're in charge,” given his current position Reid was abnormally calm. “Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can get it here for you.”

“Anything I want?” she smirked.

“Anything you want.” 

“Like a million dollars in unmarked bills, maybe a plane to Aruba?”

“Is that what you want?” Reid kept a straight face never letting his emotions get the better of him. 

“And you'll say you'll bring it here, but the real plan is to distract me from what is, I'm sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door. Is that the plan?”

“That's the plan,” he smiled.

You watched as JJ came over to your place in the kitchen, “Did you have fun?” you giggled.

“It was entertaining to say the least,” she smiled.

“Because I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you,” Cat smiled. “You like games?” 

“I do.”

“Do you win?” 

“I always win,” the way he said that made you uneasy, it was very aggressive.

“Give it to me,” she demanded. Reid followed and handed his phone to her. “Ok, here's my game. You have 30 minutes to answer every question I ask. And if you lie, I'll know. Because I've spent the past 10 years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?”

“I do.”

“That was true,” Cat smiled. “You're getting this. Now, here's how we'll know who wins at the end of 30 minutes. If you win, you'll drag me out of here in handcuffs. But if I win, you will escort me out like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely. What do you say, Spencer? Think you can win this one?”

He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, “considering everything you've put Garcia and so many people through, you're going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here.”

“Game on,” you watched as she smiled at the thought of shooting him point-blank in the face.

“What do you want to ask me?”

“How you found me, of course,” she pressed start on the timer. “A professional learns from her mistakes.”

“We got our big break in the case at the end of last year,” Reid started. “I didn't learn how big until I came back from some time off.”

“Why'd you take time off?” she smirked.

He hadn’t told you much about why he didn’t go to work for three months. All you really knew was that he was visiting his mom in Vegas a lot. He would go to Vegas for two months and then come home for a few days. Every night he would call you and tell you he loved you. 

“Stop,” Cat interrupted Reid’s story.

“What?” Reid seemed confused.

“You didn't tell me why you took time off.” 

“It's not relevant,” he deflected. 

“That's not the game,” she frowned. “The game is you answer every question I ask. Is it a secret?”

“No,” he smiled.

“Is it dirty?” she seemed happy at the thought of it being something dirty.

Reid furrowed his brow, “no.” 

“Then tell me,” she whined.

“It's not important to your story.” 

“Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell or the people listening in?” she asked

Reid looked down at his phone, “Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?” 

“Yes,” she smiled. “No. Ok, so you were saying you showed up for work that morning and…” 

“We learned that someone unexpected decided to talk,” he continued.

“And who would that be?”

“Brian Cochran from the NSA,” Reid explained. “He had used one of your colleagues to target a DEA agent. The prison put him in solitary confinement where he ended up having a breakdown. He didn’t know names, only areas of expertise. We learned about the bomber, the sniper, the chemist, and the most dangerous of all…”

“Me,” she interrupted. 

He nodded, “yes.” 

“Wow, that was really impressive,” she was mocking him. “Yeah, the way you just made all those brilliant deductions with all that information that was just handed to you on a silver platter. Quick question--are you guys really profilers or are you just lucky? Because this, what I'm about to say-- is profiling. The reason you took time off from work was to deal with the same girl who broke your heart.”

“No,” you really hoped he wasn’t trying to get away from you.

“The death of a parent, then,” she guessed. 

“No,” Reid shook his head. 

“Ah, hello, I'm getting close. It's mom or dad in the billiard room with the candlestick. Oh, you're mad at me, aren't you?” she seemed to be frowning. 

“Not even a little bit,” he smiled.

“Yes, you are, I can tell.”

He leaned closer to her, “no offense, but you're not really worth getting angry at.” 

“So you figured out what the 4 of us did, and then what?” she sighed.

“We profiled that you operated as spokes on a wheel. Somehow it had to be centralized, how you got jobs, who paid you. Somebody did all that for you.”

“You found the Snowman, didn't you?”

Reid smiled, “we did. We also learned that one of you had kidnapped him and were holding him against his will. Hotch had received something very important that helped us find him.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm confused. What just happened there?” she interrupted, again.

“When we arrested Cochran, we found a flash drive, one that gave us access to a specific shadow of the Darknet, one we didn't even know existed,” he explained. “Garcia used it to find the website that Snowman set up for all of you. Once we had the website, we had geography, specifically, the safe house you were keeping him in. So we waited until the shift change when we knew we could take two of you down at once. When we raided the house both of them killed themselves.”

“Well, well, well, you took the chemist and the sniper out of commission, huh?” she smirked.

“Did you know?” Reid asked

“I knew something was off,” she leaned back. “They didn't bid on some contracts. And this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your... Mother? Is it your mom? It's gotta be your mom. Why'd you take time off from the FBI?”

“I'm not gonna tell you.”

“Spencer,” she was much more serious this time, “why did you take time off from the FBI?” 

“You can ask me as many times as you want, and you can continue to waste your time, but I'm still not gonna tell you.”

“Then you're cheating, and I don't like cheaters.”

“Just tell her,” you muttered to yourself. If she was this angry about something so simple you didn’t want to see what she was going to do.

“You don't get everything you want just because you're pointing a gun at me under a table. You're not the first killer to point a gun at me. You're not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.”

“You're really gonna take this all the way, aren't you?” 

“Yeah,” he smirked.

“So am I.” 

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered. You and JJ watched on the monitor as Rossi stood from his seat and start walking toward their table. Cat made her way closer to Spencer. 

“Look at my face. Does it look like I'm bluffing?” Reid didn’t even have a smile on his face.

“I know you're not bluffing,” Cat reached out to grab his tie and started to twist it. “I'm gonna ask you one more time. Before you say no, I want you to consider something.” All you could hear was static.

“She muffled the mic,” Garcia said. “We lost audio.” You all waited in silence for Spencer’s mic to come back on. The only thing keeping you sane was the live video.

“Rossi, stand down,” you let out a long sigh at the sound of his voice. “Please.” Rossi did as he asked and started for the kitchen.

“Welcome to the locker room,” you giggled. 

He looked at you with no expression, “I hate the locker room.” 

“My mom has schizophrenia, and the doctor has changed her medication, which seemed to agitate her, and so I went to the treatment center to help her,” Reid explained.

“That's it?” Was she actually disappointed with his answer? 

“That's it.”

“You just risked your life over mommy's pills?” Cat asked. 

“It's the truth,” he smiled. 

“It's part of the truth,” she moved back to her original position across from Spencer. “You're holding something back. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna penalize you by adding 10 minutes. And keep in mind that the only reason you're not dead right now is because I did learn something important.”

“Oh, really?” he mocked. “What's that?” 

“Your back up,” she looked around the restaurant. “I flushed them out. It's just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” Tara said. 

“So when we left off, the score was you had two of our guys and the Snowman. You must have thought you were home free.”

“No, Reid shook his head. “If anything, the case was harder. We needed to find a way to get to either you or the bomber, we chose you. But first, we had to get the data that we needed from the Snowman. From that, we could start to build a profile that would lead us to you. When we knew what we were looking for, the pattern was obvious. You only killed men who were looking to have their pregnant wives killed. You took their money and then killed the men who hired you. This led me to volunteer to be your next victim. If I could get you here to meet me and things went awry, you would be more likely to reason with someone who was closer to your age. My wife and boss both shot down my idea but eventually, we all decided this was best…”

“Hold on a second,” she leaned forward in her seat. “I thought you weren’t married.”

“8 months tomorrow,” he was lying. You two got married 7 months ago to the day.

Cat’s face lit up, “is she listening in?”

“She doesn’t work for the bureau,” another lie that you weren’t opposed to. 

“If she were pregnant would you actually want her dead?” she whispered.

Reid leaned forward to meet her, “never in my wildest dreams.” You let out a long sigh of relief which led JJ to give you a hug. 

You watched as Cat rolled her eyes, “back to the story.”

He shrugged, “it was a pretty good plan too.”

“You have zero control here. None. I outflanked you from the beginning.”

“Some of your moves were pretty obvious.”

“Such as?” 

“Such as showing up armed. Such as changing the venue at the last moment. Can I tell you a little secret?” he smirked. “Everything eventually falls apart. The trick is accepting when it's over.”

“Except it ain't over, is it?” 

“Do you really think I'm just gonna let you walk out of here?”

“You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask the most important question. Why would I make you sit here for 30 minutes?” she asked.

“Because you're stalling.” 

“Then you don't know me at all. Did you guys show up here without an escape plan? Or is that what just another girl with daddy issues do? Maybe if you hadn't fallen victim to your own gender bias, and, yes, all men have a gender bias, even you, Dr. Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?”

“You're not here alone,” Reid’s face turned from a smirk to a panic.

“And my partner?” 

“Planted a bomb in the building.” 

“We're on the move,” you said as you and JJ headed for the basement. You had some of the staff lead you underneath the building. “Hotch, we've got interconnected c-4 charges down here.” 

“How many?” 

“There are 6 charges,” JJ sighed. “They're connected to the city's gas line. She could take out the whole block. If we alert anyone, then the panic could set her and the bomb off. SWAT's on the radio with the bomb squad. They say our only chance is to get our hands on that cell phone. If we shut down the trigger, we can remove the charges.”

“Morgan,” Hotch called.

“Go ahead, Hotch,” Morgan was still up in the restaurant.

“Does she have a cell phone with her?” Hotch asked.

“I don't think so. I didn't see her pull one out,” you could barely hear Morgan. “The bomber was setting this up while we were all up here. I think he's holding the stick. We're combing the block. He could be anywhere, though.”

“Where's Lewis?” Hotch asked.

“Are you good if I go back upstairs?” you whispered to JJ who responded with a nod.

“Reid, perimeter agents are pulling back. You have to let her go.” Hotch sighed.

“Well?” you could see Cat becoming increasingly annoyed. “Spencer…” 

“You can leave,” he sighed. “But you won't.” 

“I'm sorry?”

“Double or nothing,” Reid straightened his back. “You need to sit back down.” 

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch seemed angry with him.

“Wow, now you're stalling,” Cat smirked.

“You played your trump card, but I have one, too.”

“Thanks for dinner. I had fun.”

“I found your father,” Cat stopped in her tracks at Reid’s statement.

“No, you didn't.” 

“Look at my face. Am I bluffing? I'll tell you where he is. But you need to sit back down and listen to the rest of my story.”

“No. Tell me now. Or I'll-- detonate the bomb?”

“You're not gonna do that, Cat because then you won't learn anything. You said you were good at your job because you think through every outcome. Well, guess what-- so do I.”

“All right. Finish the story.”

“To prepare for this dinner, I had to learn everything about you, starting with your real name,” he started. “We searched through foster care records and found you were the daughter of Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens. He couldn't put 24 hours together sober. And you can probably imagine my surprise when I discovered that he actually lives right here in D.C.”

“Where?”

“It's not that simple. He was in bad shape when I found him.”

“He didn't remember me?” 

“The alcoholism shredded his brain. I'm sorry.”

“You're not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don't understand. Wait. Your mother--tell me.”

“Is--is this part of the game? 

“No. The game's over.” 

“When I looked at her medical chart, it--it didn't make any sense. The medication that they gave her should have been helping, but I couldn't figure out what was making her so angry. So, I, uh, I went to see her. The moment I walked in her room, I saw it. For 3 seconds... She didn't know who I was. I, um, I had her tested that morning, and I found out that night... That she had early onset of dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's,” you could feel your heart break. Why didn’t he tell you?

“Did you test yourself? No, you didn't. You were too scared.”

“I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn't have a schizophrenic break like her, but, uh, this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening. All the memories that we used to share are just dying. I can't stop it. I can't help her. All I can do is find people that I can help.”

“Is that really why you showed up tonight?” you saw just how annoyed Cat was becoming. “To help me? Do you know how many men have told me that they wanted to help me? How do you think that worked out for them?”

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,” JJ’s panicked voice came through your earpiece. “Hotch, we need to pull back.”

“Hotch, we might have a lead here,” Morgan said calmly. “She hasn't touched anything to arm the bomb.”

“That means the bomber's here, somewhere in the restaurant,” Lewis added.

“All right, if you can take him, do so, but the priority is evacuation,” Hotch reminded.

“I'm not even sure if it is a him,” Lewis continued. “Cat mentioned something about gender bias, so that could apply to the bomber as well.”

“All right, she'd have to be in a position to maintain line of sight on Reid all night,” Morgan asked. “Who do you see?”

“Look for anyone with their phone out,” Hotch added. “That's the detonator. Our woman will give herself away by looking over.”

“I've got her,” Morgan whispered. “Blue dress. By the bar. Y/N can you get her?”

“On it,” you grabbed your blazer and left the kitchen. Hotch had you dress similarly to the manager just in case you needed to be undercover. You walked over to the woman by the bar, “Hello ma’am, how was your dinner tonight?”

“It was good,” spoke quickly and returned her gaze to Cat and Reid.

“Let me know if there is anything else you need,” you reached into your pocket and grabbed your handcuffs. “Time to go,” you grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. Lewis came over to help you. 

“Hotch, we're clear,” Lewis said. 

“Reid's not,” you did your best to not focus on Reid but that was hard given Hotch’s words. 

“Don't! FBI,” Morgan shouted as he pulled out his gun.

“Everybody stay calm, please,” you focused your attention on the civilians.

“We're gonna be smart about this and talk it out. Aren't we, Cat?” Morgan asked. 

“That's up to you,” she quipped. 

“Get everyone out of here,” Reid demanded. 

“Move,” Lewis said. The two of you followed the restaurant patrons out along with the bomber. You shoved her in a police car and went back to the entrance of the building. Taking out your earpiece, you leaned against the wall and let out a loud sigh.

Lewis started to walk toward you, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Will you let me know if Hotch says anything?”

“Of course,” she put a hand on your shoulder and leaned against the wall. Rossi and JJ cae around from the back of the building and waited for the paddywagon to arrive, this was still part of Reid’s plan. “They’re coming out,” Lewis turned to you.

You went to the door and eagerly awaited their arrival. You saw the door open and out came Reid, Morgan, and Cat in handcuffs.

“Wait,” she stopped walking. She looked up and Reid, “ok I’m ready.” The three of them approached an empty paddy wagon. When Morgan and Reid opened the doors, Cat’s face dropped. Reid helped her climb into the van and handcuff her to the seat. You went and stood next to Morgan who put his hand on your shoulder. Reid and Cat were talking but it was inaudible. When they were done Reid climbed out and walked away, you instinctively followed him. 

“Reid,” you shouted after him. 

He stopped walking and waited for you to catch up with him. You eventually did catch up, and he wrapped you in a hug immediately after, “I love you so much,” you could hear him whisper between his sobs. You held him the entire time crying and walked him back to the restaurant.

“Kid,” Morgan greeted him, “can you drive me home?” 

Reid nodded and started to walk toward his car. Morgan took shotgun and you got the back. The drive to Morgan’s house was quiet enough for you to fall asleep. You didn’t wake up until about 30 minutes later. The car had stopped and you heard Reid get out. You watched as he walked down to a swing set and sit on one of the swings. There must have been something about his mother that made him want to come here. You climbed into the passenger seat and fell back asleep. Reid came back and drove back to the apartment. He carried you inside, laid you on the bad, and kissed your forehead before he too laid down and fell asleep.

[iamtrashforash]

“Problematic” Fanworks, i.e. Re: Last Reblog

A particularly prolific and highly talented artist-writer duo in the Banana Fish fandom has been getting aggressive messages that toe and occasionally cross the line to harassment, on top of actual hate messages.  The common grievances are that their fanworks often feature “controversial” pairings, e.g. Max/Ash and Foxx/Ash, and are sexually explicit in nature.

@silverquillsideas wrote a lengthy response to an anon ask regarding the matter, which I would highly recommend people to read.  I am mostly interested in the responses to @silverquillsideas post, which I find to echo similar sentiments (or “arguments”) found on Twitter and Tumblr.

[Fiction affects reality.  These fanworks contribute to the normalisation and/or romanticisation of rape, abuse, and pedophilia.  Hence, they are not allowed to exist.]

To “normalise” these things, I argue that the works have to present them in a normalised manner.  However, this is simply not the case.  The fanworks are conscientiously put behind age and NSFW filters (in this case, Privateer) and well-tagged with trigger warnings.  At one point, the artist even made a separate, viewable upon approval account for the more NSFW pieces, so that people who are interested only in the SFW or “sanctioned to be non-problematic” artworks need not be notified of the existence of the “non-sanctioned” artworks.  The experience is highly opt-in, and is by no means normalising.  The multiple filters and warnings highlight the paraphilic, outside-the-norm nature of the artworks.

Personally, I think this normalisation argument is patronising: it underestimates the ability of adults (especially -- let’s be honest here -- female adults) to distinguish between reality and fiction, and between safe, consensual sex and fantasy materials.

[Think about the children!]

This argument is often attached to the normalisation argument.  It is heavily undermined by the presence of the age filters.  Age filters are put up precisely because, in general, younger consumers lack the critical thinking to properly compartmentalise fiction/fantasy from reality.  When you click through an age filter, you are, in effect, declaring that you have the critical thinking and maturity to properly digest whatever awaits beyond.

[Fandom is a safe space!]

And still it remains, as long as we keep up the standards of proper age filters, NSFW filters, and trigger warnings.

[Why would you have these unhealthy fantasies when healthier fantasies exist? What is wrong with you?]

Sometimes, people ship things because they think it looks good.  It appeals to an aesthetic side of them.  Sexual arousal by visual cues is, unsurprisingly, greatly rooted in the aesthetics.  It does not need to go deeper than that.  An anecdote: I am, technically speaking, a Shingeki no Kyojin Eren/Levi shipper. Since I neither read nor watch SnK, for a long, long time, I did not realise Eren’s age and the age gap between the two.  Even after finding out, I could not stop aesthetically liking the ship.  When I ship them, I am not consciously and actively shipping a teenager with a middle-aged man.  I ship them because they appeal to me aesthetically: I like their visuals and the fandom’s depictions of their interactions in doujinshi.  I fancy that, for a lot of people, this compartmentalisation of aesthetics and age of the characters involved happens often.  Some people, however, seem incapable of internalising the idea that other people are capable of this mental separation -- a failure of the imagination.

(A tangent: I mean no harsh judgment on those who fail to separate character age from fantasies, but I think one does have to accept the personal limitations of one’s own tastes.  Personally, I find it hard to separate biology from shipping; hence, A/B/O fanworks are simply Not My Thing.  The common trope of feminising male omega characters tends to make my eye twitch.  But I am not leaving comments of how disturbed I am on A/B/O fanworks for their dissemination of wildly inaccurate biological facts and/or their tendency to reinforce a masculinity-femininity binary in MLM relationships.)

Regarding depictions of rape, assault, abusive relationships, etc., ravishment fantasies are very common; this is a fact.  Sexual arousal, fear, pain, and pleasure are incontrovertibly linked: they all belong to the response pathways of the “primitive brain”, having existed long before our ancestors began developing the cortex of higher thinking.  The arbitrary categorisation of “healthy” and “unhealthy” fantasies means nothing to something as basal as sexual responses.

[Still, these fantasies are disturbing.]

Some of them do disturb me.  However, again, the content creators have done their utmost to make sure the experience is opt-in by nature, with big warning signs attached.  If you think the content will disturb you, please do not engage with it.  Think of it as not buying pickle-flavoured ice cream when you know it won’t be to your taste and/or you are allergic to pickles.  The presence of pickle-flavoured ice cream might weird you out, but you have no obligation to consume it.  In the same way, it is unreasonable for you to demand the ice cream company to withdraw their product because the thought of pickle ice cream disturbs you, or to complain to the convenience store for allowing the pickle ice cream to be stocked on their shelves.  They released the flavour because they believe there is an audience for it out there, and that the release would bring some people delight and/or money.

[I have the right to announce how disturbed I am by these fanworks.]

I agree.  You do not, however, have the right to harass people over them, especially when -- I reiterate -- the creators have made the entire experience highly opt-in.

Also, I implore you to think of the practical consequences of your actions before you decide to send strongly worded messages to content creators:

No real person is harmed in the creation of fanworks.

On the other hand, your strong words may dampen the mood of a real live person who has decided to share their talents with the world.

In consequentialist terms, when you send messages like, “You disgust me,” to a content creator, the net result of your actions is....negative.  In other words, I am asking you, “Aren’t there better things to do with your time?”

[To depict Ash, a sexual abuse survivor, in sexual situations is highly damaging/insensitive/triggerring to CSA survivors.]

I have a very personal, by-no-means objective reaction to this particular extremist view.  Please just skip this entire section if rationality is what you seek.  I will even give you a TL;DR; it reads, “Fuck off.”

I had an entire essay planned on this for my own benefit -- think of it as bloodletting -- but I might as well say it now.  Banana Fish and Ash made me realise that I was the victim of a systematic pedophile, almost twenty years after the fact.  Ash and I had our fateful encounters at roughly the same age, in startlingly similar scenarios.

The realisation came more as a shock than I could ever have expected.  I struggle (note the present tense) with the endowment of the mantle of a victim.  I don’t know why Ash became the final piece to the jigsaw puzzle -- I mean, I had read Lolita cover to cover multiple times -- but I hypothesise that it is because his trauma does not consume most of his identity.  So many stories of abuse survivors are heavily focussed on how their experiences, well, fucked them up, but I -- I was so young that I got out without any visible mental and physical scars; all that is left are grimy fingerprints on a pane of glass, visible only when you breathe on it.  Specific parts of my body are weirdly off-limits in sexual situations, but I managed to ascribe those to “just how my body is” instead of “the parts he touched”.  Stories about trauma are certainly needed, but what my memory needed was representation in the manner of Ash’s.

Reading about Ash exploring his sexuality, especially in a healing manner that I will never experience due to my odd lack of apparent trauma, helped me a lot with coming to terms with the realisation.  I was devastated when an author abandoned an R18 fic of Ash reclaiming his sexuality with the help of Eiji, due to people messaging her with the argument above and claiming to speak for all CSA survivors.  Thankfully, the author returned to finish the fic, but the experience overall had been marred, and the author was clearly uncomfortable with having posted the fic at all.  It feels terrible to know that something that has helped me tremendously is regarded as disturbing by its own creator.

In other words, if you have used the above argument to harass content creators, please stop.

CLOSING REMARKS

I have none.  It is currently 02.30 a.m. in Japan.  Please feel free to comment with your own opinions and experiences; I will try to reply after I get some sleep.  I may edit this piece tomorrow, should my morning self violently disagree with my 02.30 a.m. self. 

[sixx6ixxsixx]

Should’ve Just Asked

I thought it’d be a good idea to post it on here too as well as Ao3 and Rockfic.

Should’ve Just Asked

Pairings: Tommy Lee/ Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee/ Nikki Sixx/ Bret Michaels

Characters: Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Bret Michaels

Rating: E (Only warning is emetophobia in chapter 3)

Words: 9908

Notes: I’ve put all three chapter under the cut but kept the headings just because I thought it’d be easier. If you read it and like it, please feel free to comment or send asks/messages about it or anything really.

Chapter 1:  Shut Up, Make Love

Being on tour was always going to be hard, Bret knew that, but being on tour with Mötley Crüe didn’t have to be this hard. They were doing this on purpose. Crüe had been messing with him since he came on this tour, sort of. Nikki and Tommy had been messing with him since he’d come on this tour. Today it was just too much though.

CC had come in smashed last night and the two of them had a blazing row over taking responsibility. The guitarist had passed out on the bed and Bret had ended up laying awake all night, going over the argument. He hated arguing with the band, especially CC but that was for reasons he wasn’t about to confront any time soon. His feelings for him were only getting stronger and he hated it, it was obvious CC didn't feel the same. He was tired and hurt and really didn’t want the first thing he saw when he walked into the arena for sound checks to be Nikki and Tommy whispering to each other while staring at him.

They were giggling, at one point Nikki pushed Tommy playfully before shoving his hand into his hair and pulling him into a searing kiss. Bret looked away as Nikki ground their hips together up against the wall. It was undeniable they were the hottest couple in Hollywood- not popularity wise but, if you got to see them in action, you’d feel it. Bret had learnt that early on. He had walked in on them on his first day and had to go straight to his dressing room after. He hadn’t been quick enough though, they’d seen the strain in his denim and it had been from then on that they had targeted him.  

Bret put his head down and walked past them, feeling their eyes burning into him as they pulled apart. He could have sworn he heard Tommy whisper his name but he couldn’t deal with it today. He just kept walking.

***

He’d been hiding in his dressing room for a few hours before the door swung open. Bret was restringing his guitar, refusing to look up. There was no knock so he knew exactly who it was. He didn’t turn around or even acknowledge Tommy leaning against the door. A few seconds passed and Bret almost began to think it wasn’t him, he was never this quiet. It wasn’t until he felt an invasion in his space and hot breath on his neck that he stopped winding the string he was working on. Still, Tommy never spoke. Bret dropped his arms to the side and waited.

The air around them was getting warmer, or at least Bret thought, but that could’ve just been Tommy’s heavy breathing on him. Why was he breathing so hard? Was he out of breath? In his peripheral, Bret saw a hand slide from behind him and brush its fingers along his wrist. He pulled away quickly and the hand moved back. The fuck was he playing at? Nikki would kill them both.

Tommy didn’t move again for a while so Bret started winding the strings again. He didn’t make another move until the final string was in tune. The moment it was, Tommy wrapped an arm around Bret’s waist and pulled him flush back against him.

“I- I don’t want this.” His voice shook but Bret meant it.

“Course you do. I’ve seen you staring.” Tommy hovered his lips above Bret’s neck. He wouldn’t take this further unless Bret said yes.

“No. You and Nikki... you’re great together. I don’t wanna-”

It was then that Bret heard the third voice in the room. Nikki laughed from the far corner by the door.

“Don’t you worry about us. We’ll be just fine whether you take us up on this or not.” He could hear the smirk in Nikki’s voice. It would’ve grated him if it didn’t turn him on so much.

Bret didn’t want to turn around, he was scared they’d be laughing and it’d all be some sick joke. So he did something so subtle Tommy almost missed it. He tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. Nikki stopped laughing instantly. Everything was still, like Tommy and Nikki were surprised this had worked.

He felt a warm wet across his neck as Tommy placed open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin. Most of his lips were soft but he’d been in a fight recently and the cut was still healing. The rough edge to it almost scratched alongside the damp kisses. As Tommy reached the crook by his shoulder, he bit down lightly before sucking hard- the bastard was making sure to leave a mark.  

Bret felt movement, it was barely audible over the sound of Tommy’s breathing but Nikki was getting closer. Tommy suddenly broke off the kisses and stood up pulling Bret with him. Turning around, he saw the dark lust in their eyes, this wasn’t a joke.

Nikki pointed at the red mark quickly coming up on his neck. “Nobody touches you ‘til after the show, hear me?” His voice was deeper than usual and he traced the mark softly, his fingers almost as rough as Tommy’s lips. Bret nodded, silent. It stayed silent as the other two left.

Bret was left alone, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. He moved to the mirror and checked his neck just to be sure it had actually happened at all. The bright red mark was getting darker, it had definitely happened. He was almost worried about whatever it was he had just agreed to.

*****

Most of the time, after they’d finished playing, Poison would bring the fans backstage and tonight was no different. At least not for most of them. Bret sat with them, had some drinks, laughed but, when it came to these barely dressed girls hitting on him, Bret had made an excuse to leave. The rest of the band hardly noticed and the girls were quick enough to move their attention. It stung a little bit, almost making him feel replaceable but this was his choice. He needed to find out what Tommy and Nikki were planning.

From the corridor, he could feel the bass through the walls but the actual music was muffled. He rested his head against the wall and took a few deep breaths, thoughts spinning in his head. Would Nikki’s lips feel the same as Tommy’s? Who was bigger? Who was rougher? Would they both take part this time or was Nikki a watcher? Bret couldn’t help but envision it, Tommy behind him holding him up against his chest as he slammed into him. Nikki, oh, Nikki practically sprawled on his stomach in front of him, that filthy smirk across his face as he ran his lips up the side of Bret’s cock, licking, kissing, about to take it in an-

He shook his head hard. No, chances were they were just going to mess with him a bit. They’d probably planned it so Poison would catch them or something or worse the rest of Mötley Crüe. The tent in Bret’s jeans made him think maybe he wouldn’t care if anyone caught them. They were both too hot for their own goods and, damn, did they know it.

Bret didn’t really know where to go. He couldn’t go back to the Poison dressing room, he’d get hit on again and he couldn’t keep saying no, people would get suspicious. Would it be wrong to wait in the Crüe dressing room? What if Mick and Vince came back first? Maybe he could go watch them play for a bit? Bret ran his hands along the wall as he walked, feeling every beat.

The screams were deafening but the music was even louder from just behind the stage. He watched as the girls in the audience threw themselves at the band, removing clothes and begging. He smiled. All these options and tonight it might be him instead.

Catching a glimpse of Tommy was difficult from this angle, he was just a mass of hair and sticks but he was shirtless and Bret found himself appreciating that more tonight than usual. The sweat shone on his skin and his hair was almost completely plastered, he had a look on his face like he was on the verge of ecstacy. He probably was, he was in his element up there.

His view was blocked pretty quick, Nikki had come back to his side of the stage. His stripes were smudged and his eyeliner wasn’t holding up any better but he still looked so hot. Weirdly... beautiful. Everyone had thought it at some point or another, Nikki just had very good aesthetics. Dropping to his knees and interacting with the fans a little, Bret got a nice view of his ass. The bassist crawled a little across the stage and the waistband dropped a bit lower, showing off his hips more.

Bret readjusted his pants, he had to, the idea of slamming himself into that ass, holding those hips hard enough to leave marks had him getting harder. Suddenly, Nikki jumped to his feet, spinning himself around rapidly. He’d never stood and watched them play, not really. He’d never noticed Nikki practically grinding against the bass. Never had Bret wanted to be a bass more in his life. He wanted that power, that aggression, he wanted to feel it all against him- in him. The end of the show couldn’t come quick enough.

****

With the show over, Bret had even less idea where to go. He assumed they would come and find him again so he went back to the Poison dressing room. The guys were all still there with some girls, significantly more drunk now. He went straight to the bathroom to kill time, disappointed to find it occupied by some topless girl throwing up. She looked up and winked at him, all he could do was smile politely and leave.

Sitting on a sideboard, he poured himself a drink and watched the others grope and be groped. He watched CC for a second, a sense of jealousy rising before he remembered what he was about to leave and do. It was bittersweet but he knew CC wasn’t interested in him, if he was, he wouldn’t be so distant all the time. He wouldn’t be so careless about his feelings. Still, it hurt a bit and Bret didn’t want to think about it tonight. Finishing his drink, he jumped down from the sideboard and left the room, missing the soft glance his guitarist gave him as he did.

The door hadn’t even closed behind him when Bret saw Tommy and Nikki leaving their dressing room. Their eyes locked on him instantly. Nikki tapped Tommy's arm and they both moved towards him, they each grabbed an arm and pulled him along roughly down the corridor.

*****

The two bands were playing this particular city for a few nights so they had gotten hotels. Nikki and Tommy were sharing, naturally, and poor Mick had to deal with Vince. Poison had a similar set up but Bret couldn’t help but notice how much messier the Crüe rooms had become than his and CC’s. Glass was smashed against walls and the bed was a mess, he could swear that the mark on the table was a burn of some kind. Tommy shut the door behind them and quickly shoved Bret up against it. Neither of the them got close to him, they just stared for a minute.

“Didn’t think you’d actually go for it.” Nikki finally spoke, his eyes moving up and down Bret’s body slowly.

Tommy was practically shaking, the adrenaline from the show still coursing. He nudged Nikki so hard he stumbled a bit. “Can I?” He grinned, almost bouncing side to side. Nikki rolled his eyes and smiled, moving to sit on the bed.

Before Nikki had even had time to cross his legs, Bret felt the drummer pinning him back against the door, mouth all over his. He barely had time to think, Tommy was moving so fast. His hips were pinning Bret to the door, his hands moving continuously between his chest and neck, pulling on fabric and tangling in hair, and his mouth was open. The only time his tongue stopped demanding entrance was when he would occasionally nibble Bret’s lip. It took him a few seconds but Bret finally opened his mouth and began kissing back. He would have fought for dominance but Tommy was moving too fast to engage in any sort of battle, instead, he just tried to keep up. He risked moving his hands and rested them against Tommy’s hips, catching Nikki’s attention.

“What are you doing?” Nikki asked slow but harshly.

Bret dropped his hands back down and stared at him as Tommy moved away.

“You wanna touch my boy, you earn it.” Nikki stood and began stalking towards him.

“H-how?”

Nikki looked over at Tommy and smiled. “You gotta show you deserve him.”

Bret stared blankly for a second before he saw Nikki’s fingers move to his jean button. He nodded, gaining himself a grin from Nikki as he pushed the blonde to his knees. He turned to look at Tommy, searching for any kind of sign, only to see him sprawled on the bed, jeans off, a finger rubbing against his arse. Fuck, he looked hot but it wasn’t helping Bret. Nikki put a finger under his chin, guiding him to look at him. His eyes were dark but still shining out from under his fringe. Bret took a deep breath and undid the tight denim in front of him, pulling it down to Nikki’s knees and watched as his task was unveiled.

When Bret had walked in on them, he hadn’t seen Nikki’s dick, it was already inside Tommy. He was happy to note it wasn’t as big as Tommy’s, yet not disappointing either. It was already twitching a bit but not hard- Bret had work ahead of him. He leaned in, holding the base with one hand and balancing himself against Nikki with the other, he ran his tongue up the side. At least he’d fucking washed recently, Bret had heard the stories. Pressing his tongue flat against the head, he heard a disapproving moan from the bed.

“What’s up, baby? Is Bret not giving a good enough show?” Nikki almost cooed over at him.

“Can’t see.” Tommy complained, moving further down the bed.

Nikki moved Bret’s hair to one side and kept his hand on the back of his head, pushing lightly. Bret parted his lips and took the first few inches in. He wasn’t new to this but he was new to Nikki and the man confused him, it was impossible to tell what he wanted- especially from him. He bobbed his head around him making sure he ran his tongue along and around as much as he could reach before taking him deeper. He could feel his cock getting harder the more he worked on it and started pumping his hand in time with his movements before pulling off and spitting on it, using his hand to jerk him off for a second while he caught his breath.

Tommy seemed to enjoy the spitting as he moaned loudly. Bret glanced over, he had three fingers inside him now and was completely naked. He felt the hand in his hair tug lightly and he looked back at Nikki, he was sweating and his lips were full from biting them. Bret smirked and swallowed him whole, stilling at the base and moving his hand to roll his balls gently. It was the first sex related noise he’d heard from Nikki since he started but it was harmonic. The deep groan that turned into an empty breath that escaped him had Bret feeling the precum leaking in his jeans. Nikki held him in place for a few seconds as he swallowed around him before choking a little. He pulled off again and ran his tongue along the length of it, sucking at the sides a little. He was about to take it back in when Nikki held him back.

“On the bed.” It was a command and Bret was taking it as a good sign.

He went and sat on the bed, Tommy scooted to sit up and started taking off his shirt for him. Bret didn’t help too much, he didn’t know the rules.

“You learn quick.” Nikki smiled and finished undressing himself before helping Tommy finish undressing Bret. As soon as his jeans were off, Tommy attacked his hips and stomach with hickies. Nikki smiled and watched his boyfriend mark up the new boy.

“Go on, Tom. What should we do with him?”

Tommy looked thoughtful before smiling, “I wanna fuck him.”

“Bit simple.”

“Hold on, I’m not done.” Tommy leaned down and left a few more hickies trailing from his hip down to his thigh. “I want you in me while I do. Want him to feel both of us.”

Nikki grinned, “That’s more like it.”

Tommy pushed and pulled Bret until he was on all fours. He lowered his face and sucked a large mark into his left cheek before kneading them apart and running his tongue from the back of his balls up to his hole. He spent a few minutes sucking and probing his way into the tight ring. Bret groaned into the darkness of the room so loudly he didn’t hear the click of the lid of the small tube Nikki had passed Tommy. It wasn’t until he felt the cold on his crack that he braced himself. He was right to, once Tommy had coated his fingers, he was relentless. He was almost as fast with with fingers as he had been making out with him earlier. Bret did his best to stay relaxed but he felt himself clench as Tommy crooked his fingers, slowed down and stretched gently. Bret dropped his front down to the bed, burying his face in blankets and crying out in pleasure as he added a third finger. Tommy pulled out slowly and coated himself, stroking himself a bit along the way.

Nikki set himself up behind him, running his fingers across the mark on Bret’s arse, “Nice job.”

Tommy grinned, “Thanks, I’ll add to yours later.” He turned and kissed Nikki passionately, all tongue and reaching an arm behind himself to hold him closer. They broke apart and Tommy lined himself up against Bret, pushing in slowly. Bret’s eyes shot open and his back arched. The pace he set was brutal, fingers digging into his hips and Bret had to bite into the blankets to stop himself from screaming.

He felt a second force, a second pace. Tommy leaned forward as Nikki began to thrust himself in and out of him. Bret was overwhelmed to say the least. The two of them had their own energies and they were choking him while pounding him into this gross ass mattress- he wouldn’t change it at all.  

Tommy stopped thrusting for a while and settled for grinding into his arse while Nikki gave out gruelling hard thrusts. Every so often, Bret would hear a loud slap and feel Tommy jerk. He was resting most of his weight on Bret now and the blonde could feel his hips threatening to give way. His legs were shaking as the the heat in his stomach turned into a burning.

“Not gonna last...” Nikki’s words rung like music to Bret’s ears. He was so close. He needed...

“Me either.” Tommy mumbled.

The bed moved beneath them as Nikki pulled out and stood up. He walked around to the front of Bret, lifting him back up forcefully. “Open, princess.”

Bret didn’t even question the pet name, he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Nikki threw his head back as he stroked himself a few more times. Thick liquid fell from his cock, Bret moved to catch as much as he could in his mouth. Nikki grinned down at him before kneeling on the floor, smearing the excess across his cheek with his thumb.

“Swallow then.”

Bret did as he was told and, for the first time, felt Nikki’s lips against his own. He was... being gentle.

“Fuck...” Tommy whimpered above him and he felt him pull out. A warmth landed on his back a few moments later. Tommy collapsed to the side, grinning and stretching out. Bret sat back up, looking about before he felt Nikki push him to lay on his back.

“You earned this.” Nikki climbed on top of him, his face just above Bret’s desperate cock. Bret watched, eyes unable to pull themselves away as Nikki took him all the way to the back of his throat and held him there for a few seconds.

Bret’s hands instinctively moved to his hair. He only managed to stop himself mere inches from contact. He forced his hand back into the bedsheets. Nikki pulled off of him and locked eyes, taking Bret’s hand and putting it in his hair. He pushed him down experimentally and Nikki followed. He sucked and swallowed until Bret pulled him back, panting and groaning. He could barely see, his eyes were so blurry but the smirk on Nikki’s face was unmistakable. Using his hand, Nikki brought Bret to a cursing orgasm all across his stomach. The bassist couldn’t help himself, running his finger through a spot and licking it gently. Bret would’ve come again right there if he didn’t feel as if he were about to pass out.

Sensing it, Nikki moved away and gestured towards the mini bar in the corner. With shaky legs, Bret made his way over and poured himself a glass of water.

“Throw us a beer.” Tommy called over. Bret passed it over and went to the bathroom.

The light from the bathroom seemed blinding compared to the bedroom, the only light in there was from the window. He squinted at himself in the mirror before cleaning himself up. He leant against the sink, closing his eyes. The spinning in his head was finally slowing when he felt wet hands on his back.

“You missed Tommy’s.” Nikki sounded exhausted as he washed away the sticky residue.

“Thanks.” Bret turned around, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, we’re shattered now so...”

“Yeah, I was just leaving.”

Nikki looked at him confused. “No, princess. You stay here tonight.” Bret looked up at him, his eyes stinging from the lights and tiredness.

Nikki held his wrist softly and guided him back to the bed. Tommy was already curled up on one side and Nikki settled right next to him, pulling Bret down on his other side. Bret tested the waters, resting a hand on Nikki’s arm. In response, he was pulled flush against Nikki’s side and held close until he relaxed into the contact. It didn’t take long. Bret curled up against the warm body, feeling Tommy do the same.

“You know, if this was what you wanted, you should’ve just asked.” Tommy whispered.

“Wish I had.” Bret whispered back, feeling the drummer’s fingers trace across the back of his hand as it rest on Nikki’s chest. This was the first night in months he managed to fall asleep without thinking of CC.

Chapter 2: I Never Cry

It was Tommy who woke him up and Bret kind of wished he hadn’t. He knew that morning meant figuring out what to do next and he had no idea. Being on tour with them for a month already, he saw what they were like. He knew he’d regret this. The soft shaking on his hand stopped when his eyes opened.

Wincing a little, he sat up and started getting dressed. The movement was enough to wake Nikki up.

The two dark haired men watched him get dressed from still under the blankets. Bret felt a cold hand running along his lower back, he shuddered a little before turning around to face them, putting his shirt on.

“Are you coming to the soundcheck?” Nikki was almost quiet, laying on his back with his hair a mess. The sunlight coming through and falling on both of them, making them look like the human embodiment of sin.  

��I kind of have to, I’m the singer.”

Nikki smiled and rolled on his side, propping himself up as Tommy lit a cigarette. “No, asshole. You coming to ours?”

Bret felt the colour drain from his face. What were they planning? “Umm, I can’t. I have to make sure the guys haven’t killed themselves, they were a mess when I left.”

“I’m sure they can look after themselves. You’re not their dad. Dude, just come chill with us for a bit.” Tommy blew out smoke into Nikki’s hair, watching as it veiled his boyfriend.

Bret nodded and turned to walk out. What’s the worst that could happen? Yeah they fucked him but Nikki gave him head so he didn’t exactly have higher ground here.

“No goodbye kiss?” Tommy grinned, sitting up.

Bret couldn’t help but feel sick. They were hot but they were dangerous and every minute spent with them was putting so much at risk. He couldn’t trust people like them. He turned back them, opening the door. “Come get one, if you want it so bad.” He cursed himself instantly. It was the only thing he could think of that didn’t sound pathetic. A beat. Nothing. Bret nodded and walked out.

He was halfway down the hallway when he felt the cold hand on him again. It held his wrist loosely a tugged him to face him. Nikki was only wearing underwear, Tommy following out the door, struggling to get into his. Bret looked around frantically, someone was definitely going to see this.  

“Guys-”

Bret was cut off by Nikki’s lips pressing against his softly, barely moving. His lips were as cold as his hands but Bret felt himself reaching for his face anyway. A door clicking behind him made Bret break the kiss quick.

“What’s going on, Bret?” Rikki sounded concerned.

“Look just know your place! You’re a support act, nothing better.” Nikki shoved him with the last words to make his point.

“Yeah, Rockett, keep your singer on his leash. We don’t need him telling us how to do our job!” Tommy’s voice was loud and snide.

Still facing away from Rikki, Bret smiled a little and could’ve sworn he saw Nikki nod back. “Whatever, you lot crash and burn if you want. I’ve got a show to arrange.” Bret turned and stormed back to his room. Rikki followed closely behind him as they got to the door.  

The first thing he saw when he opened the door was CC passed out on the floor and two girls on the bed, still asleep. Part of him had hoped that being away for the night would have made the guitarist look at things differently, clearly not. Bret crossed the room, careful to avoid last nights mess of cans and clothes. He threw open the curtains and squinted at the light.

“What the hell did you say them?” Rikki didn’t care to check his volume.

“They’re dicks...”

“They’re the only reason we’re on this tour. Just play nice for now, please!”

Bret looked down and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry, man. They just... got to me.”

Rikki helped usher the now awake girls to their clothes and poured the remains of a can over CC. He spluttered and jerked awake. Looking around, he grinned at the girls as they left and sat himself up the bed.

“Fucking wild.” He gestured to the door.

“Do you even remember it?” Bret asked, sitting on the windowsill.

“No but I bet it was.”

“Can you talk to Bret? He’s starting shit with Mötley Crüe.” Rikki huffed.

“Dude, you can’t pull that shit here, they’re in charge.” CC groaned as he tried to look over at him, blinding himself with the sunlight.

“Really? You’re gonna talk about doing what’s right?” Bret sneered.

“Don’t fucking start that again.”

Rikki had enough of this on the tour bus, he wasn’t about to deal with it in a hotel. He had options here. He threw CC his jeans and walked out.

“So, where were you last night?” CC asked slowly, not looking up from his jeans, a fake smirk plastering his lips.

“Getting laid.” Bret felt a wave of satisfaction at being able to say he wasn’t sitting around waiting for him to get home. It was short lived though. Last night had been great but now, here with him, Bret was beginning to regret it. If there was a chance with CC, getting with half of Crüe was certainly going to ruin it. But what was he supposed to do? Wait forever?

CC fell silent, the smirk falling from his face. He shrugged and nodded over to him before going to the bathroom. Bret waited, listening to the water start. It just didn’t stop. He waited for nearly an hour, getting changed and ready for the day ahead but the water kept falling. He knew CC was sulking and avoiding him, he got the message.

Making sure to slam the door so CC would know it was safe to come out, Bret went across the hall to Rikki and Bobby’s room, he still needed to shower. Bobby opened the door, fully dressed.

“CC’s taking the piss, can I use your shower?” Bobby rolled his eyes and nodded, letting him in and leaving to join Rikki at breakfast.

Bret headed straight to the bathroom, stripping completely and stepping into the small space. The water took longer than he’d have liked before warming up but, when it did, it felt perfect. He took a moment to wash, running soap and water all over himself. As his hands drifted lower, he spent a little more time than necessary “cleaning”. His hand moved slowly up and down his cock, stopping at the base to squeeze gently. He let go and carried on washing.

Moving his hair to finish washing it was the worst decision he could’ve made. The hot spray hit his shoulder and Bret’s mind flew back to Tommy leaving those wet messy kisses. He let himself stand there for a second, enjoying the memory before he realised his hand was back on his dick, stroking harder this time. He sighed, it was just gonna be like this. The steam rising from the water was making it hard to see but that was ok, Bret had what he wanted in his mind. He closed his eyes and imagined the couple both there with him, mouths lapping across his skin wherever hey could reach. His movements got faster and Bret bit his lip to hold back a whimper. He couldn’t be sure no one would walk in and the thought of someone hearing him moan for Tommy and Nikki while he jerked off made him cringe... also made him harder though. The idea of being caught and having to tell everyone what had happened, the idea of telling everyone that they wanted him last night. He remembered the look on Nikki’s face the first time he called him princess, just before he came all over his face. He remembered the incoherent noises Tommy made as he pushed inside him. The memories were enough, Bret came in his hand with a breathy sigh.

**********

When they’d asked, Bret had been sure that he wasn’t going anywhere near that soundcheck but now, after the blow up with CC, he really wanted to see them again. He wanted to see if they would be as affectionate as they had been before with him. He wanted to feel wanted again. Checking himself in a window, Bret made sure his shirt fell low enough to show off the hickies they’d left on him.

Soundchecks were in full swing and Bret stood in the seating area, watching them play. There were a couple of techies standing around, making notes. As they played, Tommy noticed him watching. He locked eyes with the drummer and smirked as he did a very complicated looking stick twirl, showing off for his little one man audience.

The song finished before Nikki noticed him. He beaconed Bret over with one hand as he set his bass down. Tommy jumped down from the drums to join them.

“We weren’t sure if you’d come.” Tommy grinned, sitting on the edge of the stage.

“Neither was I.” Bret admitted.

Nikki kneeled down, “What made you?”

Bret shrugged and Tommy ran his leg across his thighs, pulling him closer with it. Bret looked around nervously, he knew this had been a set up. He sighed.

Mick saw them from across the stage and tapped Vince on the shoulder. The singer looked over at the three of them and grinned. “Awww, guys! Does this mean we gotta be nice to him now?” Vince pouted and Tommy flipped him off.

Bret looked between Tommy and Nikki, confused. He opened his mouth to speak but Tommy leaned in and kissed him quick. Bret stepped back a little out of instinct. There was a glimmer of hurt in Tommy’s eyes. Nikki almost glared at him.

“I don’t get it, why’d you come if you didn’t wanna-”

“I’m not about to be made a laughing stock out of. I didn’t think you’d be so obvious.” Bret cut off Nikki’s harsh tone.

“What? Being with us is embarrassing?” Tommy sounded as hurt as he looked.

“But I’m not with you though, am I? I’m just a lay. I can’t put that kind of image with Poison, they’d hate me. Mötley Crüe’s slut.” He spoke faster and louder than he’d intended. He watched as they stared at each other. They spoke silently with their eyes and Bret dropped his head, feeling ashamed.

“Only half of Crüe.” Tommy offered before Nikki pushed him and sat next to him.

“Did we make you feel like a slut last night?” Nikki spoke softly, lifting Bret’s chin to face him. “Or this morning?”

Bret shook his head. He hadn’t really thought about it properly yet but they really made him feel equal once they knew he was willing to join in. And, as for this morning, they’d both chased him for that kiss. Sluts didn’t get chased for goodbye kisses. They saw that he was scared of Rikki finding out and they had both covered for him. They could have easily dropped him in it or told everyone but they didn’t. Vince didn’t even seem surprised that they were being gentle with him. Did he know something? How long had they planned this? What exactly had they planned because this wasn’t a one night stand. This was... bigger.

“Then why would you think that?” Nikki interrupted his thoughts.

Every answer sounded so desperate in his head. Bret shrugged, hoping it’d be enough. It wasn’t. Nikki folded his arms and Tommy slipped himself off the stage edge. “I’ve just seen how you are with people. It’s like they’re disposable to you both.”

“And you treat them any better?” Nikki asked as he watched Tommy circle Bret and lean against the stage again.

“I...” He had nothing. He wasn’t exactly known for being respectable when it came to his sexual encounters.

“We’re ready to risk it on you, Michaels. You gotta be willing to risk it on us too though.” Tommy tilted his head to the side.

Nikki slid off the edge of the stage. “Just think about it, princess. You know where to find us.” He took Tommy’s hand and walked them both backstage.

Bret could almost feel tears, that had been so overwhelming. How had he gotten the situation so wrong? How had he gotten them so wrong? He took a deep breath before a loud voice echoed through the mic system. “So they finally made their move?” Vince was still on stage. “Good. Not as if they haven’t been planning it long enough.” It was too much, Bret almost ran out of there and out to the back of the building.

The afternoon sun made the air just as suffocating outside as in. He almost choked as he climbed into the rented car. Bret’s eyes began to blur while he tried to get the key into the ignition. Dropping them in defeat, he let his head fall against the wheel, quiet sobs escaping him. Between CC and this, it was all getting too much for him now. He’d need to make a decision at some point but, for now, he just needed to be alone.

Chapter 3: Hollywood Ending

Hours had passed before anyone saw Bret again. When they finally did, it was time for Poison’s sound checks. Almost shuffling onto the stage, the band shot each other concerned looks. Rikki glared over at CC who looked down with guilty eyes. Bret looked tired, his eyes glazed and small, he held his body tight to himself, as if he was cold. The sweat had mixed with the hairspray and left his hair almost matted in clumps. The band had seen him like this before, not often but they had seen it. Bret wouldn’t want to talk to them right now. He was too proud for his own good and even trying would lead to more arguing and, in his state, they couldn’t be sure if Bret would recover in time to perform tonight.

Minutes went by and Bret went through the motions, stood where he was told and sang the songs he had to. He didn’t argue when Rikki made changes and didn’t even respond when CC spoke. He just played his role. There was only one song left when Bret saw two dark haired men walk in. He almost ran straight off the stage and away again as Nikki and Tommy got closer to the stage.

“Last one, guys.” A techie called.

Bret took a breath and avoided looking at them as Rikki counted them in. At first, he hadn’t wanted to see them at all but, by the second chorus, Bret was very aware at how much of a mess he looked. He began feeling insecure about it, making an effort to hold himself a little taller but failing. Every time he pulled himself up, a wave of emotion- he couldn’t even tell which one anymore- hit him and tears threatened to fill his eyes again. The song seemed to last forever.

Finally, the noise around his stopped and Bret jumped down from the stage to grab his jacket, he’d thrown on one of the front seats. CC quickly put his guitar down and moved towards the front of the stage, ready to jump down too when Nikki and Tommy began moving forward. Tommy practically jogged over to him.

“Dude, you look like shit. I’m so sorry, was this us?” Tommy tried to brush some hair from Bret’s face but he moved away.

He shook his head and put his jacket on, checking his pockets. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular but it meant he didn’t have to look at them and that was good enough. He felt a hand on his arm and risked a glance. Nikki had made it over and was running the back of his fingers along the top of his arm.

“You feeling ok?”

Bret nodded, he had to. He’d sooner lie to the world than tell anyone he was torn between his best friend who couldn’t care less about him and LA’s most destructive couple. Tommy and Nikki stared at the rest of the band and, in unison, grabbed one of Bret’s arms each.

“We’ll bring him back in one piece, don’t worry.” Tommy called to the others before they walked him out of the hall arena.

*********

Bret was sat at the bottom of the bed while Nikki sat at the head. The were both silent, Nikki examining every movement he made, clearly trying to work out what was happening to the singer. Tommy moved around the room quickly, trying to keep himself busy. He’d already had two beers, a line of coke, and changed his outfit. Bret heard a loud huff come from him as he sat down beside Nikki. Tommy was never going to be as subtle as the bassist about this.

“Please tell us what happened. None of Poison seemed mad at us so there’s something else... unless you just didn’t tell them.”

“Of course I didn’t tell them. How would I even explain this?”

“Guys, I’m with Nikki and Tommy now. They’re hot and fun so yeah.” Nikki offered deadpan, still staring. He paused, tilting his head. “Then it is us?”

Bret shook his head, “There’s just stuff going on in the band. Tension.” He wasn’t lying completely.

Tommy smirked, “If there’s anything we’re good at sorting, it’s tension.” He crawled over to Bret, pressing a rough kiss to his lips. Bret couldn’t help but melt into it for a second, being with them really did make him feel better but he couldn’t do it right now. He felt himself pull away, putting a hand on Tommy’s chest. He got the message and sat back on his heels, sighing.

Bret opened his mouth to talk but felt the familiar lump in his throat block the way. He was getting more frustrated by his reaction to all of this than he was the situation now. The constant need to cry was tiring him and he couldn’t hear himself think over the pounding in his head.

“Did you want something? Is that why you came to the sound check?” A desperate attempt at changing the subject on his part but it was all Bret could get out.

Nikki nodded and smiled, “Figured we’d come see yours if you came to ours. Make things a little more equal. You don’t trust us so we thought maybe, if we leveled the ground a bit, you might be more comfortable.”

Damn it, Sixx. That wasn’t what Bret wanted to hear. He wanted to hear some snarky comment or sexualisation of himself so he could convince himself this was a bad idea. He didn’t want to feel special.

“What did Vince mean?” Bret hadn’t even thought about the question before it fell out of his mouth.

They looked at each other, fear flashing through Tommy’s eyes while Nikki shifted nervously. “What’d he say?” Tommy asked quietly.

“He said you’d been planning this for a while now.”

Nikki scooted closer so he was level with Tommy. There was barely a foot between Bret and them and Nikki reached out to fiddle with one of the rips in the knee of Bret’s jeans. This was the first time he had stopped looking at either one of the other men. Bret couldn’t help but notice how fragile he looked now. He felt bad for asking. He wanted to make it better, he didn’t like seeing Nikki worried like this. He... cared. Oh no.

Putting his hand close to the rip, Bret reached out his pinkie and stroked Nikki’s fingers lightly. They stopped briefly before entwining themself fully in Bret’s and playing with his hand instead. It was strangely intimate, the callous tips tracing the insides of his fingers before running along the palm of his hand and drawing the most intricate patterns out on his skin. Bret’s eyes were fixed on the contact, Nikki was performing some sort of ballet and he was the stage. His dance soon finished though and Nikki rested his hand in Bret’s.

The silence became deafening once the movement had stopped. Nikki was the first to move his hand away, he ran it through his hair and sighed. “He wasn’t lying.”

Those weren’t the words Bret had expected. In fact, he’d honestly thought Vince was messing with him earlier. He didn’t know what to say. Did this mean it was a set up or...?

He went to move his hand back too when Tommy reached out to hold it.

“Will you believe us if we told you?” Tommy wasn’t just resting his hand in Bret’s like Nikki had, he was holding onto it, almost like he was scared he’d pull away. Bret nodded, he had nothing to lose at this point- not CC anyway. “You’re loud, obnoxious, your taste in clothes is questionable at best but you’re hot and confident, you’re talented, stand up for yourself, believe in yourself and your friends, and, as far as we can see with Poison, loyal. We just thought... well, we couldn’t think of anyone we’d rather get to join us.” Tommy’s voice went so quiet it almost cracked. He pulled his hand away and looked out the window.

Bret still didn’t know what to say. He wanted to run away again but he wanted to stay and hear what they had to say. He wanted to stay and see where this went. It’d be all lies if he tried to say he wasn’t interested in any of this. “Why’ve you been jerks up till now if you wanted me to be with you?” He wished he knew where his brain filter had gone, he was getting fed up with being surprised by his own voice.

“We wanted to see if you’d leave. We’re not easy to be with.” Nikki admitted.

“Like a test?”

“But you passed so it’s ok.” Tommy smiled.

Bret looked at him for a moment. He really wanted to try this but he couldn’t seem to get the words out without thinking of CC. It was making him feel sick. “I don’t know if I can...”

“Is there someone else?” Tommy looked hurt again but his question just sounded sad.

“Not really. I don’t know. Nothing’s gonna come out of it.” He’d never said it out loud before, admitting there was no chance felt as if someone had stuck a knife in him and dragged it across from rib to rib. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth on his cheek that he knew he was crying again. He looked away quickly but Tommy had already put his hand on his cheek, wiping the tear with a finger.

“They have to be special for you to be wasting this on them.” He looked at the wet on his fingertip.

“They have to be an idiot for making you.” Nikki sounded angry. Bret tried to see through the blurry wall, he looked angry too. He wiped his eyes with his shirt, sniffing.

“I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for them...” He’d never felt resentment towards CC over his feelings before but, right now, he was so angry. “I have to go.”

Nikki didn’t move as Bret made his way to the door but Tommy followed. He looked back at Nikki before leaning in close to Bret, “You better hope he doesn’t find out who it is, they’ve made an enemy today, making you cry like that.”

“I really wish I could do this.” He whispered. Tommy ran a hand through his hair and let it rest on his cheek. He smiled when Bret closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch. As if remembering CC, Bret snapped open his eyes and pulled away. “See you tonight.”

************

Bret had managed to pull himself together and put on another great performance. It was like turning off all the difficult parts of the day and drifting on autopilot for a while. Listening to the crowd scream drowned out his own thoughts and the lights blinded him enough that he couldn’t see the problems around him. It had been the easiest part of the day so far.

Just like every night, Poison had brought back a few hot girls to the room in the back of the arena. CC was on his fourth drink and Bret had decided to match him tonight. He was struggling a little with the speed but was keeping up with him. The girls were sprawled across all of them and their hands were roaming.

A blonde girl was grinding herself down onto Bret's lap while CC watched, pretending to be interested in the red head sucking bruises on his neck. CC reached over and downed two more drinks, catching Bret's eye. He followed, drinking two more and moving the girl from his lap. He staggered to stand up and went to the bathroom.

The badly lit room made his eyes hurt and he remembered the awful lights in Tommy and Nikki's bathroom. Damn, he wanted to be back there. He missed them. No, he was drunk, he didn't really miss them. But, what if he did? He’d spent the whole night glaring at CC and imagining the girls were them. He wanted to see them again. He was gonna do this. Fuck CC and fuck what the others would think. He needed to be with Tommy and Nikki right now.

The room spun as Bret stumbled back through it. He used a sofa to steady himself. Rikki looked at him concerned as he poured and downed another drink. “See you tomorrow!” He called as he staggered to the door. He didn’t notice Bobby make a very serious face at CC who got up and followed.

Mötley Crüe hadn’t even finished performing, he could still them playing as he made his way slowly through the corridors. Using the walls to keep himself upright, Bret aimed to get to the bit behind the stage again. The stairs were in his sight when he felt CC grab his arm. He turned fast, almost falling. “The fuck do you want?” He slurred.

“Where are you going?”

“Gonna go watch the guys play before they get off.”

“Why? You never do that. We got girls and booze, what else do you want?” There was some sort of smile on CC’s face and it enraged Bret more than the words did.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand. Maybe that’s all you need but I need more. I always have. Tommy and Nikki can give me that.” He was almost shouting.

“Give you what?” CC looked hurt. The same kind of hurt Tommy had looked earlier and it made Bret feel a little bad. He shook his head, this had been the day from hell. It felt like it had lasted a week.

“Something you never could.” Bret leant in close to his face, both of their breathing was heavy. His lips hovered over CC’s for what seemed like forever, no one moved to seal it. Bret moved back. “See.”

The big fireworks for the finale went off and the noise was deafening. Neither of them could hear and, before they knew it, Crüe was leaving the stage. One by one they came down the stairs, each one sweating more than the last. Nikki and Tommy saw Bret before he had a chance to turn around and started making their way towards him.

“Hey, didn’t think you’d be watching tonight.” Nikki was so out of breath, he had to brush his hand down Bret’s arm to make sure he knew he was there.

“We’re in the middle of something, Sixx.” CC snarled.

“Dude, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Tommy stepped up, ready to throw fists at the blonde.

Before anything could happen, Bret leant himself on Tommy and rested a hand on Nikki’s chest. “Just leave him, he’s not worth it. I came to see you both anyway.” He could barely hold his head up but tried just to look into Tommy’s eyes.

Tommy held him close and smiled a little, looking over at Nikki. “I thought you didn’t wanna see us again, pri- Bret.” Nikki stroked his hair as he spoke, grinning at the way Bret nuzzled into the touch.

“What the fuck is happening here?” CC interrupted.

“Uh, we’re in the middle of something, DeVille.” Tommy mocked.

“Changed my mind, it’s not worth waiting for. I can’t do it.” Bret’s grip tightened on Nikki’s shirt.

“Are you sure you’ve not just been drinking too much?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“I’m done getting hurt by people who never gave a damn!” He pushed himself away from them both. “I want this.” The sudden movement took out his balance and he fell back against the wall again.

“Look, man, we want-” Tommy was cut off by Bret’s lips on his. The kiss was messy and quick. Bret felt his body jerk at the fast motion, he pulled away fast and threw up on the floor in front of Tommy and Nikki.

“How long has this been going on for?” CC didn’t sound angry, just disappointed.

“Since yesterday.” Bret choked between heaves. Nikki moved his hair out the way carefully but it was already coated.

“Come on, we’re going back to the hotel.” CC spoke sternly and slowly.

“I’m going nowhere with you.”

“We’ll take him back.” Tommy rubbed Bret’s back.

“No. You two have done enough, he’s been a mess all day. At least I know why now.”

“You don’t get it, CC! Fuck! Just go!” Bret screamed, tears in his eyes. When CC didn’t move, Bret used the wall to guide himself out. There was no way he could stay there now. He’d ruined things with all of them now and he was a mess, CC said so himself.

*****

The outside air was really cold and it only made the spinning in his head worse. He threw up again by the wall. Bret could hear the fans still screaming as they left. He tried to breathe it in for a second, their energy. It didn’t work, tears slipped down his face as held himself against the rough brick wall.

“You know, if you weren’t fucked, we’d have taken you back to ours already.” Nikki was leaning against the door.

Bret looked over, wiping his mouth. “It matters?”

“I’m not about to let you in just for you to run back to him in the morning.” His eyes were fixed on Bret. “It is him, isn’t it? CC?”

Bret nodded, tears coming back to his eyes. Nikki stepped forward, there was a look of pity all over his face and it made Bret feel sick again. He tried to move away, tripping over his own feet. Nikki reached out and caught him, helping him back up, keeping his hands on his waist. His thumbs moved slowly in small circular patterns on his hips.

“He’s not like you-”

“Because he doesn’t want you.”

“Because he doesn’t give a shit about me. He doesn’t care about anyone, just his next drink and fix.” Bret pulled away from him slowly and got his balance together. “I’m not saying we’ll work or that you’re perfect boyfriend material but you have priorities. You know how to care- so does Tommy.”

“Tommy’s amazing with that shit. He’ll know exactly how to make the day stop looking so dark...” Nikki had nothing but fondness in his voice and smiled. It made Bret want to be a part of this even more.

“Where is Tommy?”

“Fighting CC. He told me to come check on you.” He shrugged.

Bret cringed at the thought of them fighting over him. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt. He knew that being with CC would never be like being with Tommy and Nikki and that’s what he wanted now but he was still his bandmate. He still cared about him, just maybe not in the way he thought he did. Bret loved the concept of being with CC, he wanted what he thought he could have but, in reality, that was never an option. CC wasn’t like that. He couldn’t care about him the way he wanted and Bret didn’t want whatever it was he could offer. He didn’t want to be with him, not the real CC.

Bret knew what he had to do, he grabbed Nikki’s hand and took him back inside. The rest of Poison were holding CC and Tommy apart- this was his only chance. He held Nikki’s hand tight as he stepped forward. Vince and Mick were watching from a distance, Vince cheering on Tommy and Mick stopping him from joining in himself. As he stood holding Nikki, Tommy looked over and smiled. He stopped struggling against Bobby and walked over to him, taking his other hand.

“Is this happening now? Are we going for this?” Tommy grinned and Nikki and Bret both nodded.

The three of them stood there, facing Poison and Mötley Crüe. Mick and Vince both ran over, slapping them on the back and congratulating them. Mick threatened to skin Bret if he hurt them and Bret accepted it as his blessing. Poison watched, mouths agape.

“Bret... This is a joke, right?” Rikki helped CC up.

He shook his head and smiled, “It’s what I want. We’re good together.”

“You’re fucking shitfaced. You can’t mean this.” CC yelled.

“The fuck do you care? You only ever think about yourself.” Bret shrugged.

“You’re still my brother, I don’t want you with guys who’d sell you for 5 grams of shit.”

“You don’t know us. We don’t owe you a fucking explanation but you mean something to him so we will. We’ve wanted to be with him for weeks now, we don’t need your permission. We wouldn’t hurt him, not on purpose.” Tommy went to kiss Bret before remembering the puke all over him and moving back, “Later, we’ll do that later.”

“Bret-” Bobby started.

“Stop! Just let me do this, please.” He begged. “It won’t affect you if it goes wrong, I swear. I’m an adult, I can do this.” Rikki gives in first and nods.

Bobby follows next and smiles weakly, “You’ve never been good with chicks, mate, hopefully you’ll do better with guys.” CC doesn’t speak, only nods. Vince and Mick say their goodnights as Tommy and Nikki help Bret outside again.

*****

Sunshine woke Bret up the next morning. His head was pounding and he barely remembered the night before. It wasn’t until he rolled over and came face to face with Tommy that he remembered. Most of the night after they’d left had become a blur, he vaguely remembered them helping him shower and peppering kisses on him as he fell asleep.

He smiled softly until he noticed Nikki wasn’t between them. He reached behind him and felt nothing. Sitting up, he heard the shower running. Kissing Tommy’s cheek, he went to the bathroom, opening the door.

The water stopped and Nikki stepped out, Bret handed him a towel. He was soaking and holding eye contact with him as he ran the material across his body. The only time he broke it was to lean over and roughly dry his hair. When he straightened, his hair stuck out at all angles and parts were stuck to his scalp. He wrapped the towel around his waist and moved close to Bret.

“Sober yet?” Nikki smirked, running a damp hand up his chest. Bret nodded, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting down gently to leave another mark in the collection. “I was going to ask if you were still sure about this but, looks like I don’t have to.” He holds Bret’s chin and kisses him deeply, tongue running along his teeth. “Come on, I’ll show the only way to wake Tommy up without dying. Hint, it involves nipples.” Bret grins and Nikki wraps his arms around his waist, taking him back to bed.

[mtvswatches]

Wynonna Earp 1x11 Landslide

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Stray thoughts

1) So, they’ve done a DNA test and it is Willa. Dolls basically spelled out my train of thought at the end of the last episode. There are two heirs now. But Wynonna is more concerned about Willa as her sister, and the fact that they simply assumed she was dead and stopped looking for her. But how were they supposed to know? They were just little kids dealing with a lot of shit.

2) How old was Willa when she was taken, though? I thought she was eleven or thirteen. Can a girl that age really forget everything about her identity? I mean, if you’re traumatized enough I guess you could forget. But everything?

3) Who are these two idiots letting out?

I immediately got the feeling they were like mermaids, luring them in so that they could take advantage. But these two dudes deserved to die – they knew they shouldn’t make eye contact and yet…

4)

Seriously, though, how can she not see it?

5) What is a Poker Spectacular?

6) I don’t know what these are…

…but they look as if they were taken out of a video game.

7) I love that in her opinion this is a good enough reason to try to burn down her classroom…

She fucking handcrafted little papier-mâché demons…

8) Well…

…the judge did say the hotel was to die for.

9) Oh, wow, their parent doesn’t seem like the most stable influence in the girls’ lives…

He was training her but he was so aggressive about it, and he was drinking and shouting at her. Now it makes more sense that he would strike up a deal with Bobo, for some reason.

10) Of course, Doc’s car broke down. He wouldn’t know how to fix it…

And I think the dude who stopped to help him knows what’s what in Purgatory. He could totally tell why Doc was sending him to look for the keys over the mark – to check whether he was a revenant or not.

11) Oh, ouch. Waverly didn’t deserve that…

WILLA: You kept my death certificate.

WAVERLY: Yeah. To remind myself it was actually real. You know, that you were actually gone. I was 6, right? I saw the little white coffin, but I knew that you weren't actually in there. They'd filled it with sandbags.

WILLA: Was it a nice service?

WAVERLY: All I remember was a lot of crying. And the food. The grown-ups let me eat as many marshmallows as I wanted. I threw up all night long.

WILLA: Gee. That must have been so hard for you. I'm sorry. It's just it's really intense. You guys killed me.

I understand how Willa feels, but she’s making Waverly and Wynonna feel responsible for something they couldn’t have possibly been responsible for! Waverly just mentioned that she was fucking 6 years old! And Wynonna was how old? 10 or something? They were kids. None of the decisions that were made regarding Willa were their responsibility! They just had to deal with the consequences of the decisions made by the grownups. It’s a bit unfair because they were all victims.

12) Oh…

That doesn’t make things better…

13) Wynonna is feeling insecure about her being the heir. It kind of reminds of Buffy and Kendra, in a way. Wynonna saw the curse as a burden, but even if she didn’t allow herself to admit it, it makes her feel powerful and worthy, and it gives her a sense of purpose. Now that Willa is back, not only could she be replaced, but she may find that someone else is better at her job than she is. Willa also mentioned earlier how Wynonna seemed to hate having to do the heir’s work, and I know that on the surface, that’s what Wynonna claims. But we know that in many ways, becoming the heir saved her, and she actually enjoys kicking bad guys butt. I always find this type of journey absolutely fascinating – Wynonna did start as a reluctant hero, but I know she wouldn’t want to be anything but a hero now… Can’t wait to see where her journey leads her.

14) omg she sounds like me!

Also, was she able to shake the glamour off because of her heir status or was that just a Wynonna thing?

15) Are they going to bite Doll’s dick off? Weirdly, I think I’d like to see that.

16) Oh, Dolls, you dirty pig…

17) Me, talking to my students…

Has Doc found his soul mate? They are like two kindred spirits.

18) Juan Carlo? Really? That’s possibly the most ridiculous name they could’ve come up with. That being said, I really like his conversation with Doc and what it could mean for the story. It seems that J.C. – I’ll call him that – is part of some sort of PTB group and they’ve decided to interfere. He warned Doc about the fact that in four days the doors will open – I’m guessing some kind of Hellmouthy doors – and that if that happens, it will be the end of Wynonna. He urged Doc to face the darkness with Wynonna by his side. Tbh, I think he just ships them. But it all sounds super promising either way.

19) Well, she is an Earp after all…

20) Uh-oh…

WILLA: He told me I had nothing to worry about, to just stay calm. He knew the attack was coming, Wynonna.

21) She most definitely is an Earp…

22) Willa is not messing around, though…

WILLA: I'm sorry, maybe I'm unclear about this whole curse thing. There are revenants; there are Earps. The Earps - that's us by the way make sure all the revenants get a bullet to the brain from Peacemaker, or die trying. Am I missing something?

DOLLS: Yeah. Civilians. And as far as human witnesses are concerned, you just shot a random person in a bar.

WILLA: Ah! In Purgatory, that's old news.

DOLLS: Yeah? Well, that's the type of thing that can get Purgatory on the wrong side of the nuke.

WYNONNA: She didn't know. I made the same mistake.

WILLA: Wynonna, why are you listening to this buzzkill in army boots?

DOLLS: Buzzkill?

WILLA: Yeah.

DOLLS: Buzzkill? I'm a U.S. Marshall with Black Badge, you hear me?

DOLLS: He's been helping us.

WILLA: You mean, you're following his orders, and not  your own instincts.

DOLLS: Aw, come on.

WYNONNA: We're a team.

WILLA: I thought I was the brainwashed one.

23) Excuse you?

WILLA: We were two peas, you and I. It's always been you and I.

WYNONNA: Yeah, I remember.

WILLA: It can be like it always was. And different too in all the right ways. You're not alone anymore.

I really was expecting Wynonna to tell Willa she hadn’t been alone because she had Waverly. I feel personally offended by this.

And I don’t know how I feel about Willa. Something’s off about her – and it’s not the I-was-kidnapped-and-lived-my-whole-life-in-a-cult thing…

I’ll have to trust my girl Waverly on this one. There must be a reason why she was afraid of Willa touching her…

24) Yes, Bobo, three Earp girls…

25) Why are they being attacked by S.W.A.T. or something? I don’t understand!!!

26) Dolls is fucking badass, though, he just picked that grenade and threw it out the window!!

27) So much is going on and I don’t understand any of it!

28) Did that asshole just shoot Waverly???!!!

29) Now I can get behind this!

30) Ugh Waverly was shot and Willa couldn’t give two damns and now Wynonna is torn between her two sisters!!

31) WTF!!!!

Why did Bobo save Willa???

32) And Willa saved Bobo???!!! What the fuck is going on??? What does this mean? Does it mean that the attack was actually Bobo trying to protect the girls’ dad and Willa? Was that the reason they took her? Was it all a set up? I don’t understand!!

33) I remember this quote!!! Someone sent it to me when I play the “making fandoms collide” game…

Is Wynonna that thick, though? When will she figure it out? Does she need Waverly to spell it out for her?

34) And the SWAT dudes were after Dolls…

35) Will Willa fall in love with Bobo? I think I might want to see that…

36) So the judge sent those dudes… and now Bobo wants the judge to throw him a party?

37) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Do not fuck with Doc!!!!!!!!!!

38) This was definitely an interesting episode, shaking up the sisters' dynamics with the arrival of Willa and setting up a lot of stuff that I hope will come to a head during the finale, which is only two episodes away! I can’t believe I’m almost done with season 1, but I seriously can’t wait to see how they wrap up this season!

39) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

[ratandphilgames]

Our Lives Don’t Collide

{chapter 3: shake on it}

summary: Shit hits the fan when famous actor!Phil is caught smooching a boy in an alleyway. Only problem? He’s not out and what’s worse? The boy he was smooching was a journalist who set it all up to get a quick picture and now Phil is royally screwed. The only answer Phils management can come up with is a fake relationship to try and do damage control and famous actor!Dan is the perfect candidate.

chapter word count: 2562

total word count: 7458 

rating: t 

note: thanks for reading and leaving me all your love! everyone who’s sent an anon or left kudos or reblogged has absolutely made this worth it! ily :)

updates on thursdays!

{read on ao3}

{read from the beginning} 

{next chapter}

—–

Sign on the dotted line …………….

The dotted line was definitely taunting him. All Dan had to do was write his name and then he’d be in a legally bond relationship. It was like a temporary marriage. No pressure or anything.  

Dan was back in Sam’s office, 2 days later. The final contract was sitting in front of him, ready to be signed.

He’d been thinking a lot the past 48 hours about this decision.

At the beginning Dan was fairly sure he was going to sign the paper but then intrusive thoughts crept into his mind. Would he be able to look his mum in the face and tell her that he was in a happy committed relationship when he wasn’t? That was a lot of intense pressure, lying to your mom was bad. Baddddddd.

After thinking about how much lying to his mum would suck, Dan thought about how proud his mum would be that he’d gotten himself into a good relationship. She was always being the typical mother, worried that he was too lonely, constantly concerned about him. It would be nice to convince her that he was okay, even if only for a short period.

Besides, this was just commitment to a role for an extended period of time. Dan was an actor. It wouldn’t be unusual to pretend, it was what he did for a living.

The longer Dan spent thinking about it, the more he ignored the bad and focused on the good.

So there he was. Sitting in Sam's office, pen in hand, hovering over the paper. Was he really going to sign this contract that bond him to a role for 6 months?

Yes, yes he was.

His world was going to shift exponentially but almost every way seemed like it would be for the better. Maybe.

Maybe not.

At this point the only way he could find out was by signing the paper. He’d gone over nearly every scenario in his head and at this point the only way to really figure out was to put his name on that line.

So he did. Dan signed his name on the dotted line.

He was now officially and legally in a relationship. It felt weird, especially since the interaction with his ‘boyfriend’ had consisted of one sentence and a weirdly elongated staring contest.  

“So, now that that’s out of the way, we need to make you two official on instagram.”

Shannon was right, that was part of the deal.

“How are we supposed to do that? I don’t have a picture of us together.”

Sam, who had stayed relatively quiet, simply stared at Dan as if he’d just said the dumbest thing ever.

“Daniel, you’ll be seeing him again. When you’re ‘in a relationship’ with someone, you tend to see them more than once.”

Oh.

So he was going to see Phil again. Soon.

Fuck.

Something about that fact was both startling and a tad bit titillating.

“Right, yeah, I knew that. I guess it just didn’t sink in yet. So when is he coming round?”

Again, Dan was met with a dumbfounded look from Sam. He seemed to be missing the obvious today. His mind a little preoccupied, he supposed.

“You can’t take the photo here, Dan. That will look sketch. You need to invite him to yours, so paparazzi see him and hype up the relationship.”

In order to avoid Sams snark, Shannon stepped in and talked. It hadn’t really occurred to Dan that him and Phil would actually hang out. That he would have Phil inside his house. Suddenly everything became overwhelmingly real.  

“Oh, oh shit. Okay. How do I do that?”

Apparently it was ‘plan everything without Dan and then act like he’s dumb because he wasn’t let in on the plans’ day.

“Dan, there’s this lovely thing called a telephone that you can use. We just have to call his publicist. All you need to do is be at home, which isn’t hard for you.”

Wow. Okay. It was also roast Dan day.

Sure, Dan didn’t tend to leave his house unless he was filming something. It was just too much hassle to get out when it took so much planning. In public he was expected to keep up appearances. At home he could get away with wearing a baggy tee shirt and sweats with no eye bats.

Since ‘Switch Hitter’ was set to come out in 2 months and trailers were starting to drop, Dan was more relevant in the media than usual. If he wasn’t up to leaving his house during his usual schedule, he sure as hell wasn’t wanting to when there was handfuls of paparazzi camping outside his gate.

“Tomorrow. Phil will be coming to your house, you will take a photo together that is suitable for coming out on instagram. Nobody will be their to monitor you, I trust you will not need supervision. Please don’t fuck this up Dan.”

Out of the whole 5 years Dan had worked with Sam, never once had he heard him curse, let alone at him. Shit was serious, Sam was pulling out the big guns.

It was like he was being scolded on having girls (or boys, he’d be out as bi since he was 14) in his room as a teenager. “I trust you will not need supervision” sounded a lot like a threat. Even his mum wasn’t that passive aggressive about being alone with a potential lover.

Not that Phil was a potential lover. This was a business relationship, nothing else.

God this was getting awkward already.

Dan didn’t want to play the ‘ask a question and get a glare from Sam’ game again so he just nodded in response.

And with that Dan was excused from Sams office and told to go home and make his house ‘presentable.’ Shannon offered to help, but Dan assured her he could do it all by himself. He could manage throwing out the old pizza boxes without assistance. The amount of times the paparazzi outside his house had gotten excited that a car was pulling up, only to find it was a pizza delivery boy was astounding.

Andreas, per usual, was standing outside the door, just waiting for Dan to walk out. Maybe a day would come when Dan could feel safe going from his house to his agents office but quite frankly that day was not today. On more than one occasion he’d been attacked by paparazzi who took it too far and a couple of times he was met with some very homophobic bystanders who chased him. After all was said and done, he’d rather pay someone and count the money well spent for his peace of mind than be in constant fear with a little more change in his pocket.

“Any more stops today?”

“No, let’s just head home. You’re probably tired of waiting around for me.”

“It’s my job.”

No other words were said the rest of the car ride back to Dan’s abode. When they arrived Dan got walked to his house and then him and Andreas parted ways.

He only had one day to get his shit together. One day was not enough time to get shit together.

Dan contemplated hiring a cleaning service. He honest to god thought about searching one online rather than have to clean up his own filth so his fake boyfriend wouldn’t be so disgusted that he ripped the contract. It wasn’t that his house was that bad, it was just tedious and not how Dan wanted to spend his evening.

He started with the takeout boxes and random junk that he just tended to leave around when he was running to get somewhere on time. A pair of shoes, a misplaced watch, some miscellaneous jewelry.

Was it weird if he picked up his bedroom? It wasn’t like he was going to entice Phil into his bedroom, but what if he walked past? Maybe Dan would at least make his bed. Try to be semi presentable just in case.

Oh god. He sounded like a maniac that thought this relationship was real. He needed to do a quick reality check and realize it was all fake. It was staged. He needed to get that through his thick dick infatuated brain before he managed to screw everything up.

Shit. Sam had good reason to tell him not to fuck stuff up.

Dan made the executive decision to make his bed, using the excuse that he needed to anyways, to be a ‘functional human.’ His therapist would be proud.

As he was just folding down the edge of his duvet there was a buzz. The buzz that meant someone was trying to get into the gate.

This was… unexpected. For a brief moment Dan wondered if he had subconsciously ordered a pizza. Or maybe he was receiving a gift basket from Phil’s team from signing the contract. No wait, mail doesn’t get delivered at 5:43 at night.

Who the fuck was at his gate?

He made his way to the intercom near the front door, the little microphone that allowed him to speak to the person attempting to enter his home. More often than not it was a reporter requesting an ‘impromptu interview.’ Don’t get him wrong, Dan loved answering questions and interacting with people who cared what he said, but at his house, unannounced? That was just unprofessional and unsafe.

“Uh, how may I help you?”

He was really fucking awkward.

“I’m here to drop off Phil Lester.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Is this a prank?”

Phil was supposed to be by his house tomorrow. Sam had explicitly told him tomorrow. As in 24 hours, as in not right fucking now.

“No sir, this isn’t a prank.”

The driver sounded a bit annoyed with him but that was the least of Dan’s problems right now. Philip Lester was outside his house a day early and there was no way to prepare because he was asking to be let in right now.

“Uh, alright, I’ll open the gate.”

As soon as he typed in the code to open the gate he flew to his room to grab his phone. In the time it took for Phils car to pull up, Dan was able to send a quick SOS message to Shannon, asking what the hell was going on.

Ding. Dong.

The doorbell was ringing. They were there.

How did his hair look? Was what he wearing earlier appropriate for the occasion? What even was the occasion? First date with his fake boyfriend? Was this a date? A ‘fake’ date of course.

He opened the door. Standing there, true to the drivers word, was Phil Lester and a very tall, muscular man, that Dan had seen outside the boardroom door days earlier. This was the real motherfucking deal, no prank in sight.

Holy fuck.

“Uh, come in.” It took everything in Dan to make that statement not come out like a question.

The bodyguard stepped off to the side and Dan moved to the side, allowing Phil to walk into Dan’s home. Phil Lester. Walking into Dan’s home. Fuck.

“I trust the premise is secure?” Phil’s bodyguard was speaking to him about security. Dan didn’t know anything about that other than Andreas always said he was safe in his home. Nobody had ever broken in, so there was that.

“Yep, super secure.”  

“Alright, well, call when you need a ride.” This time the bodyguard was addressing Phil. They had gone from a high security professional to a parent dropping off his stepson at a sleepover. At least Dan wasn’t the only awkward one here.

Phil nodded, clearly embarrassed by his bodyguards choice of words.

And then Phil’s bodyguard closed the door and it was just Dan and Phil, alone, in Dan’s big house. They were just both stood awkwardly by the front door.

“Uh, we can head into the lounge if you want.”

So they did. Dan led Phil into the lounge and they both sat down on the sofa and they both did that awkward thing where they push their knees together because they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Something had convinced Dan that the great Phil Lester was going to be the talkative, explosive personality he saw on the screen. Dan should’ve known better than anyone that what you saw in the interviews wasn’t the full truth. Phil was just another introverted awkward guy who had a knack for pretending.

“I’m going to go make a call real quick, I’ll be right back.”

Shannon had texted him back with a simple ‘call me.’

Dan stepped into his kitchen and dialed Shannons number, having it committed by memory at this point.

“Shan, what the fuck is going on. I was told tomorrow. There is one Philip Lester sitting in my lounge right now.”

He was doing the hushed whisper thing with his voice just in case Phil could hear him from the other room. He didn’t think he could hear him, but it was always good to play it safe.

“His publicist just must’ve gotten mixed up on the phone, don’t panic kid. Just play it cool and don’t forget to take the instagram photo.”

Somehow Shannons words comforted him, they always managed to.

Okay. Cool. Play it cool. He could do that.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now Shan. I’ll play it cool. I’ve got this.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Shannon or himself more.

“Have fun. Do not forget the instagram picture Dan.”

Right. Get that picture.

Dan hung up the phone, feeling much better about the situation now that he had Shannon’s wonderful words of wisdom.

Despite the newfound confidence, Dan was not too keen on heading back into the lounge and striking up a conversation with his new ‘boyfriend.’ Still, he did the honorable thing and went back into his lounge.

“Uhh hey. Thanks for coming.”

Phil, clearly startled by Dans reappearance, jumped a bit at the words and dropped his phone onto his lap.

“Oh uh, thanks for having me. I mean, thanks for everything. Sorry the situation is- well that this is how we meet.” Phil looked so anxious as he spoke and Dan couldn’t help but feel bad. For the first time he wasn’t thinking about how this would affect himself, Dan was thinking about how shitty Phil must feel after being publicly outed without his consent and then being forced by his management into this ‘relationship.’ Dan had a choice, Phil really didn’t.

“What? You mean you don’t meet all your friends through fake relationships to save your reputation?”

The humor certainly lightened the mood, both of them had a little chuckle. Dan felt a small sense of accomplishment for lifting the awkward tension.

“No, I’d have to say this is a first. So we’re friends?” Phil asked, still sitting on the sofa as Dan stood by the doorway.

“Well I hope so, otherwise the next few months are gonna be hella awkward.”

Again Phil laughed a little, making Dans stomach do that flip thing. This was going great, Phil didn’t hate him yet.

Dan crossed the room and sat down on the sofa next to Phil.

“Friends?”

Sticking out his hand, Dan waited, hoping Phil would shake on it.

“Friends.”

And they shook on it.  

[artificialqueens]

Searching, Waiting, Looking -Ch07- (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: peoples i bring to you another chapter that has already been posted to AO3 but all i can say to that is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i hope you people enjoy that, pls share this if you do, and as always find me at @pichitinha

Summary: Of course Trixie will be the decorator to Shea’s wedding - with years of experience in her bag there’s no way she’ll leave her best friend hanging. Sure, she never intended for that to become practically a full-time job as the wedding planner alongside Sasha’s crazy best friend Katya, but hey, everything for your friends, right?

Chapter 7 - We all sin, but we ain’t devils

Trixie doesn’t talk to anyone within their group of friends for a week. She turns off all of her notifications and keeps her phone on ‘do not disturb’ and does all of her work from home.

Four days into her isolation week Willam calls her on her work phone and after Trixie ignores it she calls thirteen more consecutive times until Trixie just answers it in fear that her store might be on fire.

“What?” she answers aggressively and it stuns Willam into silence. “Willam, I don’t have all day.”

“Uh, are you okay? Shea came by the store today looking for you, said you haven’t been answering calls or texts.” She actually sounds worried and Trixie is somewhat moved by that.

“So you decided to call?” she mocks. She tries not to act like a bitch, Willam has virtually done nothing - other than convince Trixie she liked Katya which then led to the whole situation and, actually, Willam is partially to blame, yes.

“You answered, didn’t you?”

“And I’m about to hang up, so bye-”

“No, no, wait!” She sounds frantic which is unusual, so Trixie listens. “I’m worried now, apparently you’ve been ignoring everyone? What’s wrong?”

Trixie sighs and drops her head on her hands which rest on top of her little office desk. She doesn’t feel like talking with anyone right now, particularly Willam over her work phone.

“I’m fine, Willam. Just need some time to myself.”

“Shea is really worried.” Willam says it like she’s trying to guilt-trip Trixie but that won’t do anything now.

“Then tell her I’m fine.”

“Why can’t you tell her?”

“Because I’m taking some time to myself, are you not listening?” This is truly the last thing Trixie wants to deal with right now.

“She says Katya is worried, too.” Willam adds as a second try on the guilt thing. It works in getting Trixie to be more assertive, but not for the reasons, or in the way, she’s sure Willam expects.

“Then you tell Shea to tell Katya that I’m none of her fucking business.” Trixie is beyond caring about what people guess or gossip or figure out. She just wants to be alone. She just wants to not talk or worry or think about Katya.

If Katya didn’t care before then she shouldn’t care now.

“Oh,” Getting Willam to not know what to say is not an easy feat so it tells loads about how Trixie’s acting. “Uh… apparently she said there are wedding things to finish?”

“Well, let her know Katya is free from duty, I’ve got it from here.”

“Trixie-”

“No offense, Willam, but I’m done talking. I’m alive and fine and everyone can stop worrying. Shea’s wedding will happen as promised and I don’t need anymore help. Bye.” And with that she hangs up, blocks WIllam’s contact because she can’t turn off her work phone but refuses to deal with this again.

She knows she should be more mature about this, knows that she should probably talk to someone about it, anyone, should definitely talk to Shea regardless - her wedding is fast approaching and suddenly her planners aren’t speaking to each other or to her. And maybe she should also talk to Katya, except she tried it, that day, gave Katya the opportunity to explain what the fuckand she didn’t, she just brushed Trixie off as if she’d been a nameless conquest in a random bar, unimportant, not good enough for a fucking goodbye.

So she takes a time off, because she deserves it, because she opened her heart for the first in a long while and it lead exactly where she thought it would: heartbreak.

Still, Trixie refuses resolutely to cry about Katya. She hasn’t cried about a girl in a long time and she simply won’t let Katya of all people break that streak, someone she realized she had feelings for a mere hours before being rejected. And Trixie knows that if she tries to tell this to any friend she’ll cry, because she can feel the tears coming up in her throat whenever she thinks about it, but she won’t do it. She won’t.

Once it’s been exactly eight days in complete isolation after that night she goes to her store. She’s been working like crazy, finding things to do that shouldn’t even be her responsibility, just to keep herself busy, but all she could do from home is done and now she needs to be out and to visit some places in person and she really needs to go to her store because she can’t trust Willam to handle it for her, even if she’s currently working everyday out of pity or whatever for Trixie, she doesn’t know everything there is to know about the place and she can’t make business decisions.

Willam is there when she arrives and she smiles worriedly at Trixie as soon as she opens the door.

“Trixie!”

“Hi,” she replies humorlessly as she walks to the back.

“I’ve got a note for you?” Willam inquires rather than informs as she follows her and Trixie rolls her eyes.

“I’m not gonna bite you, Willam, I’m just in a bad mood.”

“For a week straight?” Her eyebrows are raised impossibly high and she’s grasping a piece of paper in her hand.

“Just give me the note, I have to leave in a few to go to the caterer.”

Willam opens her mouth like she had more to say, but she just closes it and nods as she hands her the paper and exits to the front again in hurried steps.

Trixie unfolds the little square and she immediately recognizes Katya’s handwriting on it.

I need to discuss a few things about the wedding, can you please call me?

She crumples the paper and tries to throw it in the trash - she misses spectacularly, has never had good aim, but ignores the paper on the floor to pick up her phone instead.

She searches for Katya’s number, types it into a new contact on her work phone, and deletes it from her personal one.

Trixie: Hi, it’s Trixie. This is my work phone. Don’t worry about the wedding, I’ve got it all covered.

It doesn’t take long for a reply to come.

Katya: trixie, hi. we said we’d do this together, i don’t think it’s fair to dump it on you

Trixie tries not to notice how she’s still using Trixie which she never did in texts. It doesn’t matter if she does, it shouldn’t matter, not now.

Katya: also are you okay? you’ve been on radio silence

Trixie laughs bitterly at the second message. Is she okay? What kind of bullshit?

Trixie: I would prefer to do it by myself anyway. Thanks.

She doesn’t answer her question, there’s no point to it. What would she say anyway? Everything is fine except for the fact that I’m pathetic and always fall for the wrong people, you included?

Katya. oh. ok. uhm… i have a few ideas i didn’t have time to share

Katya: and seriously how are you?

She really doesn’t have the energy for this.

Trixie: Share them with Shea, ask her to call my assistant if she likes it.

Katya starts typing several times before the actually sends something.

Katya: right. I also have a few questions about the decoration for the day? as the photographer and all

Trixie: I’ll send you the detailed decoration plan.

There are no new messages for a few minutes and Trixie thinks she’s given up but then she sends another one.

Katya: trixie, pls, can we just talk?

Funny. Now she wants to talk.

Trixie: We’ve cleared up everything about the wedding, I don’t know what more there could be for us to talk about.

Katya: can we please be adults about it? you’re blowing this out of proportion

Right. It’s Trixie’s fault, now. She can’t even find a proper answer for that.

Trixie: I’ll send you the plan via email. You can reply there if you have any questions.

Katya doesn’t reply anymore. Hopefully she’s taken the hint.

*

A couple of days later Shea knocks on her door with such force that Trixie truly believes it’ll break off the hinges if it keeps going, and by Shea’s stern voice as she says open this door right now, Trixie, I know you’re in there, it doesn’t look like she’ll stop any time soon.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, stop assaulting my door, geez.” She opens it forcefully, refuses to be intimidated in her own home, but Shea looks like she means business, her face weirdly serious.

“I wouldn’t need to harrass you here if you answered your damn phone.”

She walks past her without being properly invited in - to be fair they are way past that - and she actually looks mad. She reaches the end of the couch and turns around, stares down at Trixie and she actually cowers a little under it.

“I’ve been busy,” she replies with a dismissive shrug, averts her gaze from Shea’s.

“Too busy to answer texts of are you alive from your best friends? For over a week? Kim called me thinking you had drowned yourself in your own bathtub or slipped in the kitchen and hit your head.”

Trixie crosses her arms then, would feel guiltier if it wasn’t for the ridiculousness of Kim’s concerns but still feels a little bit of guilt anyway and she refuses to be the one to blame for this. She’s allowed time out when she’s hurt, she’s allowed time to make sense of herself and the mess that her life is right now.

“I told Willam I was fine and asked her to pass the message.”

Shea doesn’t change her posture, maintains her ground and her height over Trixie. “Right, because hearing from Willam that she says she’s fine but she sure ain’t really reassured me.”

Trixie huffs with an eye roll. Damn Willam.

“I am fine.”

“Don’t play with me, I’ve known you for like seven years.”

They stay silent then, both standing up and staring at each other, daring. But Trixie is tired and Shea is one of the few people she feels safe to open up to, especially now after all of her discoveries about herself. Her shoulders sag.

Shea sighs and rolls her eyes affectionately. “Come here,” she offers opening her arms and Trixie marches into the hug.

She doesn’t cry but she holds on for dear life, feels her breathing getting heavier. It’s almost funny that unlike any of her expectations for the past couple of years she’s practically crying on Shea’s shoulders about someone else. She doesn’t let go until Shea is pulling away and dragging her to the couch.

“Wanna tell me?”

Trixie actually shakes her head. “Not really.”

Shea squints her eyes in warning, “Trixie.”

Trixie looks away at her tone of voice. Honestly at this point she wouldn’t mind talking about it, but she doesn’t know what to say, where to start. How does she explain the whole situation to Shea?

How does she explain how much Katya means after so little time, after knowingit for so little? How does she explain to Shea the importance of Katya without talking about her previous feelings? She can’t. And she doesn’t know if she wants to go there, not less than two months away from Shea’s wedding.

“Trixie,” Shea insists again, more concerned than anything else.

“I’m thinking about where to start, just give me a damn second.”

Shea does, then, doesn’t move an inch for as long as Trixie’s thinking which in her head feels like it’s a really long time. She knows Shea is growing more and more curious, probably concerned too, and she can’t really look at her as the words start happening.

“I like Katya,” she admits rather rapidly and quietly, like she’s embarrassed of saying that out loud.

Shea says nothing and when Trixie glances at her her eyebrows are raised as if she’s saying girl, please.

“I hope there’s more to it because that’s hardly news to anybody, Trixie.”

Trixie nods slightly, looks away again and bites very lightly into her bottom lip in a futile attempt to hide the nervous act from Shea. She tries not to be offended by her completely lack of shock, there are more important matters at hand.

“We… we slept together. We left after your bachelorette party and came back here.”

That jerks a real reaction out Shea, who moves in shock until she’s kneeling on the couch, eyes fixated on Trixie’s face which is still not facing her, but rather the turned off TV.

“You what?” Trixie’s not sure if it’s a shocked what or a question what but either way she says nothing. Shea keeps pushing. “Trixie, oh my god, that’s incredible. God she must have been so happy! And you too, oh my god, I can’t believe you finally opened up again! Was it amazing? It was, right, she does yoga?”

Trixie laughs through her nose, humorlessly, and from the corner of her eye she can see Shea’s figure diminishing. She’s definitely confused and Trixie doesn’t blame her - she is confused, too, still.

“It certainly was before she left and said it meant nothing.”

Shea retreats as if she’s punched. “Wait, what? She said what? Katya? OurKatya?”

Trixie shrugs. “Certainly not mine in any way.”

“That… that makes no sense.”

“Well, you tell her that, then, because it’s what happened. She made that clear and went as far as saying I was overreacting.” She stops to take a breath. “It looked like she wanted something but I clearly knew her less than I thought.”

“Trixie, I’ve known her almost as long as I’ve known Sasha, this is…”

“What happened. You probably don’t know her that well, either.”

“No, you don’t get it. Trixie, she won’t shut up about you since we introduced you guys.” Trixie snorts bitterly. “No, I’m serious. Remember when you guys went over Sasha to show us that other wedding? Katya had been there for like half an hour blabbering about you and asking if you were single and if you were for sure a lesbian and if we thought you would be interested and- She was invested.”

It’s lovely that Shea thinks that this is in any way helpful, that this is a good time to tell her that.

“Something clearly changed. And maybe I’m overreacting but I don’t care, I don’t want to talk to her again. She knew I’m not interested in one-night stands.”

Shea is quiet, considering. She seems truly lost and it only hurts Trixie further - she doesn’t need any reminders that things went wrong so fast.

“Tell me what happened.”

“We slept together and she bailed. Not sure what part you’re not grasping,” Trixie snaps.

“Trixie, come on. There has to be more to the story.”

“But there isn’t. That’s it. We’re in the club, I realize I like her, we come back here, we have a great time, I wake up and she’s gone. That’s the whole gist.”

“You realized you like her in the club?” Shea’s looking at her like she’s stupid - as if she needs that right now.

Trixie shifts a little on the couch, uncomfortable. That may not have been the best of scenarios but she knows what she feels. Not that it matters now, anyway.

“Yes, okay? Things were happening - actually, scratch that, things have been happening and I finally got a moment to myself to think and to feel, and I like her. I-I like her,” she admits it again, defeated, even though she’s said so already and by the way it went Shea had not been surprised at all.

“Are you sure?”

“What kind of question is that?” It’s like she’s under investigation here even though she’s the victim. “You said yourself everyone knows it already.”

“I know but I want to know, now, if you are certain of it. I just want to hear you say it.”

Trixie looks at Shea, meets her eyes to make her confession more meaningful and also so Shea will perhaps see how that’s doing the very opposite of helping her.

She falters for a second before she opens her mouth. She’s never thought she’d look into Shea’s eyes to admit she likes someone else. But she does. She hates that she does so right now, but she does.

“Yes. I am sure. Which is not ideal given the circumstances so I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”

“I just want to see if this is how you feel sober.”

Trixie squints. It takes her a moment.

“Are you saying any of this is my fault for being drunk? What bullshit is this?”

Shea shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, we went out to drink, we were all drunk, she was drunk. What I’m saying is that perhaps confessing to Katya that you like her while drunk might not have been the best move.”

Trixie is quiet for a second. “I didn’t exactly confess.”

“Trixie-”

“Listen, no offense but it’s none of your business how it all went down, all it matters is that I was  serious and certain, she knows that. You said yourself, she was drunk too, why is this on me?”

“It’s not on you, I’m just trying to understand. I know Katya, Trixie, I know that there is something here that I’m not seeing - that possibly you are not seeing.”

“How could there be anything between immediately going to sleep after fucking and waking up the next day? You think I sleepwalked and sleep-fucked things up?”

Shea considers. “Maybe. That’s what I’m trying to figure out-”

Trixie just gets up, exasperated. “You know what, this was a bad idea. I don’t know why you’re trying to blame me for Katya sleeping with me with no intentions of sticking around when she knows that’s not my thing and then fucking leaving without an explanation. You keep insisting you know Katya, well, fuck off, you’re supposed to know me better! And to fucking care about me, too!”

Trixie knows she’s unleashing anger at Shea that’s aimed at someone else, but she can’t help it, because she’s mad and sad and Shea is supposed to be her best friend, Shea is supposed to be a shoulder to cry on, not this. Her eyes are filled with tears already and she’s trying really hard not to let them fall.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Shea is by her side and she doesn’t even notice, only when she hugs her again and Trixie is too tired to fight it, so she hugs her back.

She cries, finally, even though she really doesn’t want to. She’s choking on these tears that she won’t let out and also on the confusion because, yes, Shea is right, that truly doesn’t sound like something Katya would do and she doesn’t get it.

They break apart when Trixie practically runs out of tears, she’s sure her eyes are red and puffy and she doesn’t care, she just wants to go back to being able to bottle her emotions up because this is simply too much. But now that she’s let herself feel again, apparently that’s how it’s gonna go, always feeling. She hates it.

“I didn’t know you liked her so much, I’m sorry.” Shea says as she tries to make Trixie sit down again, on the same part on the couch that she was before.

Trixie doesn’t even know how much she likes Katya - is liking someone even quantifiable? - what she does know is that this is new to her, it’s the first time it’s happened in ages, and it’s the first time she’s let herself actually feel things in a long time.

And this is where it takes her.

Trixie looks at Shea, her expression compassionate and worried, maybe a bit confused, and she gulps and takes a deep breath.

“This is the first time I’ve really liked someone since…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, regrets having started it. It seemed like a good idea but now that the words started leaving her mouth, she wants to take them back and lock them up again.

“Since what? Clara?”

Trixie only ever dated Clara because she was tired of being lonely, but by that point she’d already been more than aware of her feelings for Shea, she had already been in the bury this deep and never look at it again stage. Complete denial and willing it to cease.

She shakes her head, closes her eyes and covers them with her hands in an attempt to protect herself.

“I never felt anything like this for Clara.”

“What? Then who?”

She takes a deep breath, presses her eyes closed with more force and pushes her fingertips over her eyelids, making patterns that sting a little.

“You,” she whispers.

It’s quiet, then. So quiet that Trixie is convinced - or wants to convince herself - that Shea didn’t hear and it’ll be like she didn’t potentially ruin their friendship.

But then, she hears shuffling. She opens her eyes in desperation and stands up, Shea is probably leaving too because she’s an idiot and somehow is ruining everything. Her eyes take a while to adjust again to the light and to stop with the colored patterns it had been making and she stumbles a bit. Shea holds her pulse, still on the couch.

“Woah, calm down.”

“Sorry,” she sits down again, blinks a few more times before she can open her eyes completely. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I think we’re past that. But I am a bit stunned, you’ll have to give me a moment.”

“No, of course, I didn’t mean-” she stops talking, doesn’t know where she is going. Why did she say anything in the first place? “My feelings for you started a long time ago. But I knew it wasn’t gonna happen and it was just a silly crush and then you met Sasha and she’s great… I thought I had gotten over it, but these things linger, I guess, so I just pretended it never happened and I guess I got used to pretending.”

She’s oversharing, probably, Shea must be so uncomfortable hearing her best friend saying she used to like her so close to her wedding. But she’s can’t stop because this is relevant to her and her situation, having liked Shea makes all of her current feelings more intense and confusing and in a way important. Like it or not, liking Shea had been a part of her. She’s not even sure for how long that lasted, but it did have a say in a lot of her decisions over the years. Particularly one.

“That’s why I didn’t want to be the maid of honor.” She confesses, knows that Shea probably knows it now but would like to hear it anyway. “Don’t get me wrong, I am so happy for you, I really am, I’ve been from the moment you told me, I just- I thought it’d be easier to not be a part of the ceremony? Does that make sense?”

“Yes, of course it does-”

“And,” Shea has more to say but Trixie’s not finished so she just rambles on.“ And that’s probably why it took me so long to realize I liked- liked Katya. Because I liked you and then I was very focused on not liking you or at least not thinking about it and somewhere along the way you became Katya and I missedit and it doesn’t matter anyway because she doesn’t care and I’m always falling for the wrong person, god-”

She lets her head fall to her hands again, sniffs twice trying not to cry.

Shea slides along the couch until she’s by her side, places her hands on her shoulders in a comforting manner.

“Trixie, just breathe, okay. Look at me.”

She tries taking deep breaths. It takes her a while, but she raises her head again and looks at Shea. There’s nothing but understanding in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she feels she has to say it, even if she never decided to like Shea in the first place - would rather she hadn’t at all.

Shea just shakes her head. “For what? I’m sorry I didn’t notice it.”

Trixie shakes her head. “It would only have made things worse.”

“Maybe. But I thought I knew you enough to not let something so big fall to the sides.”

Trixie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“And I’m sorry Katya did what she did.”

Trixie nods, her heart stings. “Yeah, me too.”

“Did you tell her?”

“What?”

“About me?”

“Oh. No.” She shakes her vehemently. “No way.”

“That’s good, you usually get really honest and personal when you drink.”

Trixie considers it because it’s true, she does, that’s why she always stops on her very well known limit. She shrugs sheepishly. “There wasn’t a lot of talking.”

Shea nods and wrinkles her nose, but then her expression quickly shits to something as close to uncertainty as it could get with Shea and her usual confidence levels. “I’m asking because- well, I’m not trying to make excuses for Katya, okay? But hear me out.”

Trixie just lets her shoulders drop. She doesn’t really want to hear it but might as well get it all out now. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Katya dated her college girlfriend for like five years. From what Sasha told me she went out of her way to make this over the top proposal that she actually hated because the girl loved this kind of thing. They got a venue, a band, dresses. They had everything.”

Trixie is not breathing in anticipation from what Shea is gonna say, from what she said already. This doesn’t match the Katya that doesn’t believe in forever. Or maybe it does -  things change, Katya had said.

“The girl left, like, three days before the ceremony. I don’t know the details but apparently she let Katya know with a note on the fridge or something. And I think she left for an old girlfriend, which - they dated for five years so that’s- you know.”

Trixie can barely blink. “I-”

“I’m not defending her or pretending I know what happened. But Katya’s been through some shit with relationships. And she definitely knew she liked you a lot sooner than you did, because she would talk about you all the time with Sasha and anyone willing to listen, really. So, I don’t know, if anything in what you said or did indicated that you weren’t truly invested or that you were hung-up on someone else - I guess I just see where she’s coming from, if that’s the case.”

Trixie feels sick all over again, thinks about Katya planning to marry someone and being practically left at the altar because three days is basically that. She thinks about how she said that she used to believe in forever but didn’t anymore, thinks about how she’d once said that work hadn’t always been her priority but it suddenly was.

Things change.

Her heart aches for Katya, she tries to imagine what she’d do in a situation like that and comes up empty. But her heart also aches for herself, still. She sympathizes with Katya but that’s not an excuse - being hurt is not a good reason to hurt someone else.

“Maybe you should talk to her?” Shea looks hopeful and Trixie is touched by her hope even if possibly unfounded.

“I tried talking to her after she left, she didn’t have anything to say. If I did anything she should have told me then.”

“She should,” Shea agrees with a nod of her head. “I’m not saying she’s right. But maybe she’s had time to think it over? Maybe she feels bad now.”

“She texted me about work a few days ago. She doesn’t.”

“Trixie,” Shea insists and Trixie looks at her. “Since when has being proud helped you in any way?”

It hasn’t. She’s too proud for her own good, it always gets in her way and she knows it.

“I shouldn’t have to be the one to reach out.”

“Didn’t you say she texted you?”

“She did but it’s different-”

“Okay, doesn’t matter. Just do it for you, Trixie. Whatever happens isn’t it best if you at least know what went down?”

Trixie hates when other people are right and she’s wrong.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

*

For the rest of the evening and pretty much all of the next day she tries not to think about Katya, but her mind can’t get over what she heard from Shea.

She obviously knows now why Katya not liking marriage or forever bothers her - not that she thinks about marrying Katya, but she can’t picture herself getting involved with someone that doesn’t have an interest at least in the general idea of building a life together. And, sure, that doesn’t matter now, but it makes sense of her feelings.

But now it also makes sense how Katya feels. She finds herself immersed in her mind from time to time during the day, building that scenery in her mind. She pictures herself dating, her whole life planned in front of her - happy - and then she comes home to find a note on the refrigerator telling her the wedding that was to happen in three days is cancelled and her partner is gone, off to build the life you both imagined with someone else.

A lump forms in her throat at the fake situation she sees herself in. She can’t really know what Katya must have felt, but she can sort of picture it and her heart aches.

She wants to be just as mad as she was before, but it’s hard. She still doesn’t know what happened for things to escalate so quickly or why Katya acted like she did out of the blue, why she would send texts like the ones she sent, but she can put herself in Katya’s shoes, even if from years ago, and imagine the kind of feelings and fears that still linger from that. She knows really well how past experiences can influence a person.

She hasn’t checked her work email since she’s sent Katya the decoration plans in fear that she would have replied, but now she hopes that here’s any kind of contact from her, so she checks it and just as expected there’s a new one from Katya. She hovers on the mousepad for a few seconds before clicking on it.

Trixie,

I have some questions regarding the flower colors on the entrance area, I was thinking about using that as an official place for guests to take pictures with their own phones. Can you comment on the attached graph?

Thank you,

Katya Zamolodchikova.

She reads it over and over, knows she brought it upon herself that Katya is all serious and business after the texts she had sent, but that was then and this is now. She doesn’t want to feel bad but she does.

Does Katya feel bad? Would she have apologized if Trixie had agreed to talk to her?

She’ll probably regrets this, but she picks up her phone and opens up the text chain she has with Katya, even if now it only displays her number as opposed to her name. The last text is still Katya’s after that night. She does her best not to read it again.

Trixie: hey

Trixie: i can’t open your attachment

It’s a lie, but she can’t find another reason to send her a text. She isn’t sure herself why she’s doing it, except she can’t stop thinking about Katya left at the altar in a beautiful wedding dress - even if that never happened.

Katya: hi

Katya: didn’t expect a text from you

Katya: let me check the file, i’ll send it again

Trixie bites her lower lip, trying to figure out how to keep this going, how to say what she wants to say when she doesn’t know what that is yet.

Trixie: sorry if i was rude the other day

She sends it before she can think it over. Part of her thinks she shouldn’t apologize for anything, she still doesn’t think she did anything wrong even if maybe she overreacted a little - she isn’t the first and won’t be the last adult to casually sleep with a friend. Even if that wasn’t the original goal.

Katya: it’s ok

Katya: i know why you did it

Katya: i’m sorry too

Katya: i hope you know i’m sorry

Katya: things aren’t b&w but either way i didn’t react properly

Katya: and this makes no sense to you but just know that i’m sorry

It makes more sense than Katya could know - Trixie knows more than Katya thinks she does. For some reason Trixie keeps trying to figure out Katya’s crying face, how she would look like once she got home and saw the note that she’d been abandoned after five years and days away from a wedding. She can’t picture it, can’t replace Katya’s usual smile with tears.

Trixie: do you wanna meet up tomorrow?

Trixie: to talk about the wedding?

Trixie: email will probably be more work than it’s worth it

She waits patiently for Katya’s reply, finds herself hopeful for the chance to see her. Maybe this is herself shooting herself in the foot, but Shea was right, Trixie owes to herself to talk about this, if Katya is willing.

Katya: i’d love that

Katya: maybe we can talk about more than just the wedding?

Katya: at that corner café?

Trixie knows the one, it’s the same one they went that first day when they shared their work experiences.

She doesn’t acknowledge the other question, just confirms quickly.

Trixie: see you there at 10

Katya: see ya

Guess Trixie will figure out what went down. Maybe they’ll manage to somehow fix their friendship, at least. Or maybe they’ll officially cut ties.

Trixie doesn’t know which option leaves her more helpless.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 14)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 17k story words: 105.3k (so far) chapter: 14/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: can you believe i’m posting a 17k chapter? because i can’t. a massive thank you to @auroraphilealis​ for reading this mammoth of a chapter MULTIPLE TIMES for me and helping make it better.

also: before you send me an ask about using a read more, i did, they just don’t always work on mobile and there is nothing i can do about it :( take it up with tumblr lol

Dan didn’t entirely trust Isabella to not chase after him. The second Dan was out the door, he was desperate to put as much distance between himself and Isabella as possible. As much as he truly hated exercise, Dan practically sprinted away, paranoidly glancing over his shoulder every couple of feet to make sure that Isabella’s signature clack clack clack wasn’t trailing behind him.

Instead, he waited until he was five blocks away from Isabella’s building before he slowed to a fast paced walk and pulled out his phone. Dan was ready — he was ready to be fucking done with Isabella in his life, and he was ready to move fucking forward with Phil. When he opened his phone, he was determined to do just that.

Jesus, he had six missed calls from Adaline. For a moment, Dan had forgotten about Adaline’s emergency phone call. Just as he swiped away the notification, another call came through. Dan pressed the decline button — he’d call her back in just a minute.

He had something else to do first.

Riding the adrenaline high of finally, finally doing what he wanted to do, Dan opened twitter and — fuck. He’d left the app open on the picture of Isabella. Knowing that she’d fucked that model, that the mark on her neck was from another man, didn’t hurt as much as Dan had thought it would. It fucking sucked, of course.

After all, cheating was the one place where Dan drew a firm line of what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Honestly, he was more upset about the fact that he’d been cheated on, than about the fact that Isabella had been the one doing the cheating. He hated her, he hated her for a lot of reasons. He hated her for the way that she used him, for the way that she manipulated him, for the way that she cheated on him.

But above everything else, he was just glad to be done with her.

Replies were rolling in, most of them tagging both him and Isabella, and, weirdly enough, a few tagging Phil as well. Deciding his mission could wait a moment, Dan clicked on Isabella’s name, his finger hovering over the unfollow button.

If he clicked that, if he actually unfollowed Isabella, people would surely notice. People would undoubtedly piece together the scandalous picture with the fact that he’d unfollowed his bloody girlfriend and know.

Know that they’d broken up.

Dan didn’t give a fuck. He’d meant what he’d said to Isabella. He was done. The fallout of breaking up with Isabella didn’t phase him, fans could think whatever the hell they wanted to — most of it would probably be right, anyway. With a surge of defiance, Dan smashed the unfollow button.

That felt good.

But not good enough.

Fuck Isabella, fuck her being in his life and having even an inkling of control over him.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He clicked the gear next to her name, pressing Block @IsabellaDeLaRenta before he could change his mind.

That felt really good.

At least now he wouldn’t have to see whatever bullshit she pulled and would be relatively sheltered from the inevitable drama.

But that wasn’t what he’d come on the app to do.

Dan tabbed over to his DMs. Phil’s name was right at the top of the list.

Dan could do this. He was on a roll of doing rash and brazen things tonight, he might as well fully commit. He’d been holding back from this, because it felt like a definite step across a line, a line that he wasn’t willing to cross. But now, the line was gone. He was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He didn’t let himself overthink the message. It didn’t matter how it came out. It could be flirty or blunt or a little bit aggressive, it didn’t matter. So he wasn’t about to spend thirty minutes crafting it.

Daniel Howell: text me about drinks tomorrow 07712345678

Well, it probably could have stood to be a little less abrupt, but whatever. Dan’s point was made. Isabella was gone and there was no longer anything stopping him from texting Phil, from having Phil as an actual contact in his phone.

Okay, next thing.

Deciding it was time to call Adaline back, Dan switched back to the phone app, but quickly got distracted once again. The third person down on his missed calls list was Izzy D.L.R <3.

Fuck that. Dan tapped on her name, pulling up the contact page.

Should he edit the name, or just delete her entirely?

It seemed stupid to keep her number in his phone just for the sake of it potentially, someday being useful. What did Dan care? He couldn’t imagine a single situation that was worth the emotional weight of keeping her number in his phone. So instead of just deleting the heart, Dan scrolled all the way to the bottom and smashed the delete contact button, quickly accepting the annoying are you sure?

Yes. Dan was very, very sure.

Fuck, that felt heavenly. Having that last little bit of Isabella completely gone from his life — knowing that he didn’t have her number anymore, knowing that if he wanted to talk to her at all that he would have to unblock her on twitter… it all felt like this very definitive wall between them.

He liked that wall.

Okay, now Dan could focus on calling Adaline back. Dan tapped back to his call log, happy to see Isabella’s name gone, and clicked on Adaline’s name. The phone didn’t even make it through a full ring before a sharp voice answered.

“Daniel. James. Howell. I’ve been calling you nonstop for forty-five minutes,” Adaline greeted him sternly.

“I know, sorry, I couldn’t answer.”

“Wasn’t the whole point that you needed to answer so you had an escape? I was beginning to think you died.” Adaline sounded annoyed, but Dan could hear the concern laced in her voice as well.

“Chill out, Mum, I’m alive,” Dan joked, high off the fact that he was finished with Isabella. No amount of irritation from Adaline could phase him now — not while he was this happy.

“Fuck off,” Adaline grumbled, never pleased to be compared to their mother (even if she was one of the sweetest women alive). “What the hell was happening?”

“Well, see, I was out to dinner with Isabella originally. And then I ended up back at Isabella’s—” Dan just about gagged on the name, which, judging by Adaline’s giggle, didn’t escape her notice. “I didn’t want to, um, you know.” Dan coughed awkwardly.

“So you thought faking an emergency would be better than just saying no, like an adult?”

“Look, I didn’t want to dig myself into an even deeper a hole. I had these grand plans to take her to breakfast tomorrow and dump her, but I knew if I pissed her off too much tonight, she wouldn’t agree to see me before she went back off to wherever the fuck she’s planning to go tomorrow.”

And thank god that Dan had successfully broken up with her before she jetted off to Vancouver, or Switzerland, or Melbourne — or wherever the fuck she’d said. He wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to end things over the phone — or worse, text — and he couldn’t imagine suffering through that relationship for another second.

Adaline was quiet for a moment.

“What do you mean had plans? Please don’t tell me you changed your mind,” she begged.

“Er, well, sort of,” Dan stumbled, a little charigned.

“Are you fucking serious? Don’t make me get on a bus and come smack sense into you,” Adaline threatened. “God, I thought you’d finally figured out that you were dating a total bitch.”

“No!” Dan interrupted fiercely. “I mean — I did! She’s a bitch! I get it, loud and clear. Everything’s fine.” Dan did his best to console his sister. Everything was fine — it was more than fine at the moment, all things considered.

Dan stopped at a crosswalk, pushing the walk button repeatedly. He could feel his excitement, his energy, his complete exasperation with the entire situation itching beneath his skin. “I broke up with her tonight,” he continued. “That’s why I didn’t answer.”

“Wait, on Valentine’s Day?” Adaline screeched, utterly scandalized. “What the fuck, bro?”

Dan took a breath, ready to defend his actions, but Adaline cut him off.

“Look, I wanted you to break up with her as much as anyone else, obvi, but I thought you were determined to be the good guy or whatever. Which, you know, would mean waiting until it’s not the day of love?!”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into the details. But if you go on twitter, you’ll get the gist of it.”

“Okayyy, should I go look now or…?” Adaline trailed off. Dan could hear the faint do do do doooo of her computer starting up in the background.

He didn’t particularly want to deal with Adaline’s reaction to everything on twitter at this moment in time though.

“Later’s fine.” Dan rubbed his hand down his face. “I actually have a different favor to ask you.”

“Someone’s needy tonight.”

“Shut up, you act like I do nothing for you.” Dan pulled his coat tighter around his body — jesus it was cold tonight.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Adaline asked more nonchalantly than Dan had anticipated, given the drama of the evening.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Dan asked tentatively as he stalled at another street corner, looking back and forth for cars before he carried onward, carried himself towards home, towards the comfort of his own bed.

“Um, I might have a date tomorrow night, but I don’t know.” Adaline sounded just uncertain enough of her plans for Dan to interject his own life into them.

“How attached are you to going on it?” he asked bluntly.

“Not. Why?”

Thank fuck, Dan thought. “Well, you know Phil, the one from —”

“Twitter and the coffee shop, yeah, I know Phil.”

“Oh. Right.” Dan felt himself blushing and was glad that it was dark and no one was around. Of course Addie knew about Phil, Dan talked about him constantly. “Well, I like him,” Dan blurted out. He held his breath, waiting for Adaline’s reaction. It wasn’t normal for him to have actual feelings for someone new so soon after a breakup. Having grown up in the same house as Dan, Adaline probably knew that better than anyone.

But her response didn’t come.

“I mean, like him like him,” he added when Adaline still didn’t say anything.

“No shit,” Addie shot back. “ Are you going to say anything new or…?”

“You knew?” Dan asked in surprise as he pulled open the door to his building. The warm air of the lobby felt heavenly against his cheeks, and Dan almost felt guilty for the wave of frigid cold he must have let in.

Almost. But right now, he was feeling too high off all of his decisions to feel too bad about anything.

“Dan, I’ve watched you date how many people? I’m not an idiot,” Adaline said, interrupting Dan’s thoughts. Dan jottled a little, trying to think back to what Adaline was talking about, and blushed when he realized.

“Oh,” he muttered dumbly. He gave a short two-fingered wave to the doorman as he power walked to the lift, eager to be in the comfortable safety of his own flat.

Dan was silent the entire lift ride, trying to process what it could mean if Adaline realized that Dan properly liked Phil. If Adaline knew all the way from Wokingham, had Phil caught on, too?

Although, Adaline had watched him cycle through relationship after relationship, fuckbuddy after fuckbuddy. She wasn’t that young while Dan was living at home, and he’d never been particularly subtle about it. Somewhere along the way, Adaline had developed a knack for picking up on when Dan was interested in, well, fucking someone.

Maybe there was hope that Dan’s interest wasn’t quite that obvious to Phil.

“So what about Phil, this boy you like like?” Adaline prompted teasingly when Dan was silent too long for her liking. Even though Dan had brought the subject up, he had no idea where to begin talking when it came to the topic of Phil.

Or, at least, he had no idea how to talk about it without just gushing.

“Hang on,” Dan murmured when the lift doors opened. He sat his phone down on the table so he had both hands free to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall somewhere in the foyer. There were more important things to deal with right now that being tidy.

Dan picked his phone back up, finally having decided what he needed to say first. “Well, objectively,” Dan explained, with just a hint of annoyance at his own conclusion shining through, “I know I need a bit of a break from dating before I just go for it with Phil.”

“I’m sorry, did I hear that right?”

“Before I date Phil, I know I should take a break from dating,” Dan repeated a little bit louder, in case the connection was weak.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Adaline sounded stunned.

“Yeah…”Dan tugged roughly at his tie on his way to the bedroom, trying to get out of this damn suit, this damn night as quickly as possible. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being weird? You’re the one that’s being weird. I can’t believe that Dan Howell is going to take a break from dating?”

“Fuck off, it’s not that big of a deal,” he grumbled, his free hand trying to undo his belt.

“It’s a huge deal.” Adaline corrected. “I literally can’t remember a time when you weren’t at least sleeping with someone.”

So maybe she was right. Maybe Dan had never gone a full week after a breakup without sleeping with someone new. And maybe Dan had always made an effort to have someone in his life, whether it was a relationship or a… fuckbuddy.

Dan sighed, not able to be really annoyed since Adaline was technically right. “I know, okay. But that’s the thing. I don’t want Phil to be just sex and I’m afraid that if I try to date him right now I’ll fuck it up.” Adaline made a sympathetic sound. “It matters, okay? I want to do this right.”

“Okay, so how is all of this rolling around to needing a favor?” Dan could tell by the amusement in her tone he was already probably going to win.

“I kind of asked him to get drinks tomorrow. And it’s not, like, a date, I’m sure. I asked him before Izzy and I broke up. But now that I’m not with Isabella anymore, I’m not sure I trust drunk, horny me to not drag him back to my place and fuck him.” He put Adaline on speaker and set the phone on his dresser.

“Y-you’re fucking rid-ic-iculous,” Adaline managed to say through loud laughter. Her laughter was contagious, and Dan found himself unable to control his own giggles as he realized just how bloody absurd it was that he was asking his little sister — who he used to babysit all the time — to essentially babysit him.

“You’re not wrong.” Dan agreed, once he’d gotten his own laughter under control. “But — ugh this is so childish. I want a chaperone to make sure I don’t do anything dumb.”

“Get Louise to go with you.”

“I don’t actually trust her to stop me. I think she’s rooting too much for me and Phil that drunk-Louise would probably actually try to whore me out to him.” Dan glanced down at his hands as they unbuttoned his shirt and, for a split second, he imagined they were softer, paler hands.

Fuck. No he really couldn’t be trusted to be drinking around Phil alone.

“So you want me to trek all the way into the city, just to have drinks with you and your crush in order to stop you from doing anything stupid,” Adaline deadpanned, not bothering to hide just how ludicrous she thought Dan was being.

“Not just to have drinks. You can stay over, obviously, and we’ll do something on Saturday.”

“Hmmm, tempting.” Adaline considered it for a moment. “Wait, a second.” She sounded suspicious.

“What?” Dan asked warily.

“Last time I checked, you’d sworn that you weren’t going to introduce us to anyone that wasn’t serious.”

“One, I said I wasn’t bringing anyone who wasn’t serious home and I’m not bringing Phil home, and two, we aren’t dating — yet,” Dan retorted, throwing himself onto his bed with a content sigh. It felt so good to be back home, especially knowing that tomorrow, he’d wake up and not have to pretend to care about Isabella anymore.

“I see how it is, you’re playing the technicality card.” Adaline’s smug teasing was beginning to make Dan worried that she wouldn’t actually agree.

“Look, will you do it or not?” Dan snapped impatiently.

“A chance to watch you drunkenly embarrass yourself in front of someone you like? Obviously I’m coming.”

“I resent that,” Dan muttered, but Adaline kept talking over him.

“But you get to figure out what we’re telling Mum and Dad. And Phil, for that matter, because I assume you don’t want to tell him that you made your little sister travel an hour just to come babysit you.”

“You’re the best Adaline. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll book you a ticket and forward you the confirmation when I hang up.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow you fucking idiot.”

You’re a fucking idiot, Dan thought back at her bitterly, because Adaline had already hung up.

*****************************

It was half past ten, and while Phil didn’t usually sleep until closer to three, he was already getting ready for bed. He figured if he was going to feel somewhat sorry and pathetic for himself, he might as well do it while wrapped up in his green and blue check duvet.

He’d never been the type to really buy into Valentine’s Day — normally he didn’t care if he was single or not on the holiday. But this year, the date had felt a little like a slap in the face.

Dan’s visit to Beans and Grind, had been lovely — for the most part. No matter what day it was, Phil would always savor any time he got with Dan, but he had been particularly grateful to get a few hours of Dan’s undivided attention today.

It was just that, well, it had left him wanting more.

To be fair, Phil knew that there was no amount of time that he could have with Dan that wouldn’t leave Phil wanting more. Looking back, Phil couldn’t identify when he’d gone from simply enjoying spending time with Dan to craving it and dreading its end.

Phil, could, however pick out the exact moment that he’d realized that his feelings for Dan were so much stronger than a normal crush.

It had been a cold day filled with snow flurries and gusts of wind. Phil honestly hadn’t expected Dan to come into the coffee shop — if Phil hadn’t have had to work, he certainly wouldn’t have left his flat. But just an hour into Phil’s shift, when the snow flurries had been at their heaviest, Dan had waltzed in, wearing a fluffy hat and an oversized coat. He’d brought his laptop with him, but he’d never got around to opening it. Instead, he’d ordered a hot chocolate, demanding that Phil drink one with him. It had taken a few sips of the hot beverage before Dan had finally felt warm enough to shed his massive coat, and when he had —

When Dan had taken off his coat, Phil had seen what Dan was wearing.

Phil’s jumper.

Out of all of the that clothes Dan owned, for some unfathomable reason, Dan had chosen to wear Phil’s pugs not drugs jumper — a jumper that was so unbelievably different from Dan’s normal aesthetic that Phil had originally worried Dan wouldn’t even wear it as an alternative to his own soaked shirt.

And yet there Dan was, wearing it for no apparent reason other than because he’d wanted to.

Dan had curled up on his chair, somehow, and gotten lost in conversation with Phil. He’d looked impossibly young and cuddly and comfortable, and Phil had known right then that not only did he want to see this version of Dan again, he wanted to see every version of Dan.

God, Phil was so fucked.

Valentine’s Day just sucked this year. The things that he had done — work, see Dan — hadn’t sucked, sure. But the whole day left a rotten taste in his mouth. Left him bitter about the fact that he’d gone and fallen for someone who wasn’t available.

Trying to minimize the agony of the day, Phil had completely avoided the internet all day, other than his brief DMs with Dan that morning. He just hadn’t been in the mood to deal with the constant love love love that was sure to be everywhere, and figured it was safest to hold off until tomorrow.

But at quarter to midnight, when his laptop had died and Phil was too lazy to go across the room to find the television remote, he gave into the temptation. How bad could it be?

The first thing he noticed when he opened up twitter was that he had a new DM from Dan that he’d somehow missed — he must have cleared the notification on accident. The second thing he noticed was that he had approximately a thousand mentions. Which wasn’t a crazy amount for him — not by a long shot. But usually, any significant amount of mentions was preceded by something from him, and he had been completely silent today.

Maybe some of his followers were just wishing him a Happy Valentine’s Day? In the past, his followers had started hashtags on his birthday or a holiday — maybe they had done that again?

The temptation of knowing what the hell was going on somehow overrided Phil’s perpetual desire to talk to Dan. Hesitantly, Phil clicked on his notifications, and scrolled through his mentions.

@AmazingKendra: @danielhowell i get that @IsabellaDeLaRenta is pretty but have you seen @AmazingPhil

@DanIsTheMan64: @danielhowell tbh your smile looked more genuine in that picture with @AmazingPhil last week

@DieDanellaDie: @danielhowell fuck #danella. i’m fucking disgusted with @IsabellaDeLaRenta and you can do better. i only ship #phan now @AmazingPhil

There had to be some kind of context to these tweets. Phil kept scanning, trying to find someone who included something more helpful in their messages. Finally, he found one that tagged someone other than him, Dan, or Isabella.

@iHowellForDan: @danielhowell did you see the @Tatler picture? Just move on already (preferably to @AmazingPhil)

Phil knew about Tatler. They were a gossip website that he’d been featured on one too many times to have any respect for, but he was desperate to figure out what the hell was going on.

Well, that seemed as good of a place to start as any.

Phil’s stomach was clenched in a tight knot as he clicked on @Tatler. He had no idea what to expect.

Fuck they tweeted a lot. How many people ran this account? It couldn’t possibly be just one. The gossip website was far too massive for its own good. Each tweet felt like a shot in the dark in the hopes that something would land them some hits.

It look a moment of scrolling to find anything that might be relevant and then — shit. That was it. That explained at least some part of what was going on.

There was a very risque picture of Isabella on a beach in some random dude’s arms. According to the magazine, the picture was taken just two days ago.

The nerves in Phil’s stomach turned to guilt. He’d been hoping, praying for Dan and Isabella to break up. But he’d never wanted it to be because of something as serious or cruel as Isabella cheating on Dan, and, well, that’s exactly what this picture looked like.

Wait, shit.

Dan.

Was Dan okay?

Phil couldn’t even begin to imagine how Dan might be feeling right now, if that picture had any truth to it, if Dan had seen it.

Phil abandoned his quest to figure out what the hell was going on in favor of opening the DM from Dan. If Dan was upset and had messaged Phil about everything that was happening — whatever that may be — Phil wanted to be there for him.

The message wasn’t Dan freaking out, though. In fact, it didn’t seem to have any connection to what was happening on twitter at all.

Daniel Howell: text me about drinks tomorrow 020 2436 8532

It was short and simple, but it made Phil’s heart soar. Actual Dan Howell’s phone number was sitting in Phil’s twitter inbox. He hadn’t even had to ask for it.

Part of Phil wanted to continue stalking twitter, to read through all of the available tweets to figure out what the hell was going on. But if Phil had learned anything through being in the public eye, it was that more often than not, whatever the public was assuming to be true on twitter was either wildly off base, or a gross oversimplification of things.

Besides, he’d rather hear about whatever was happening in Dan’s life from Dan himself. And now, Phil had a much more efficient way to get a hold of him.

Maybe it would come across as eager, perhaps even too desperate, since the message had only came in an hour and a half ago, but Phil didn’t care. He copy and pasted the number into a new text message, only to stare blankly at the screen.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Did he mention the shitshow that was happening on twitter? Did he ask about how Dan’s Valentine’s Day was? Should he ask if there was any truth to the picture of Isabella?

Phil opted to ignore all of the questions he had — at least for now — and send something more casual, allowing Dan to take charge of the conversation and say… whatever he wanted Phil to know.

Phil: This already seems like a more efficient method of communication than twitter -Phil

Even though Phil knew Dan was a night owl, he didn’t expect Dan to text back instantly. It was, of course, still Valentine’s Day, and just because Dan had a moment free on his phone earlier, didn’t mean he still did. Plus, even if Dan was home, he probably wasn’t attached to his phone like Phil was.

Boy, was Phil wrong.

It took less than a minute for Dan to reply. And reply. And reply.

Dan: hey there stranger

Dan: i agree. it’s too easy to miss messages on twitter

Dan: now i can just shout at you. much easier.

Phil chuckled. And to think that he had been worried about coming across as too eager. Meanwhile, Dan was sitting somewhere triple texting Phil.

Not that Phil was complaining.

No, Phil was sat in bed at midnight, staring down at his phone, smiling like a complete idiot because of a boy. How was it that Dan was able to make Phil this flustered, this happy from halfway across town?

He felt like a lovesick teenager — and was half tempted to call up his best friend to help him draft a text message like he was fifteen again.

That was ridiculous, Phil realized. He was twenty-goddamn-seven years old. He could message back a cute boy on his own for fucks sake.

He wasn’t sure what to say though. He started typing, trying to figure out the best response.

I know, twitter was a pain — delete.

How was tonight? — delete.

So you want to —

Phil’s third attempt to write a message was interrupted by another text from Dan.

Dan: you still up for drinks tomorrow?

That message wasn’t hard to respond to, at least. A smile snuck its way onto Phil’s face. He felt more like a teenager getting asked to a school dance than he cared to admit.

I am if you am

That made it sound like Phil was being dragged out to drinks with Dan — which was definitely not the case.

Delete.

Absolutely

That sounded a bit too eager, right?

Delete.

Phil tried again, and ended up settling on something that probably still counted as too eager in most people’s books, but, well, a lot of Phil’s actions so far could probably be considered as too eager.

Phil: Of course! What time are you free?

Dan: anytime after 7 works for me

Dan: one small thing though

Oh god, Phil’s heart dropped into his stomach.

A million possibilities rushed through Phil’s head. Had Isabella put her foot down about Dan spending time with Phil? Had Dan realized how flirty their relationship was and gotten uncomfortable? Was Dan going to want to bring Isabella along for drinks?

This was it, Dan was going to find some way to force a line between them. He was going to invite Isabella or remind Phil that he was a man in a committed relationship or tell Phil that he was one hundred percent straight.

Phil took a deep breath and forced himself to respond as naturally as he could.

Phil: What’s up?

The three typing dots seemed to flash in time with Phil’s far-too-fast heart. Dot, dot, dot, thump, thump, thump. What the fuck was Dan typing? Why was it taking so long? What did—

Dan: i just found out today that my sister is coming into london tomorrow. do you mind if she tags along?

His sister. It was just his sister.

Phil let out the breath he was holding, relief coursing through his body. Dan wasn’t trying to build some wall between them, Phil wasn’t being pushed away. Dan just wanted to bring his sister to drinks with them.

A sister that it took Isabella almost a year to meet, a self-satisfied piece of Phil’s mind added without his consent.

Phil: Sounds great! Where do you want to meet?

Dan: do you know harolds? it’s like a block over from b&g

Phil: Yeah! Emmalee and I have gone there a few times. Sounds good! Meet there at 7?

Dan: great xx

****************************

The next day went by far, far slower than Phil wanted it to. He was anxious to get through his meetings with the BBC and his manager, Marianne, so that he could finally get to the part of the day where he got to see Dan.

Dan, who a whole mass of people on twitter were speculating might be single now. Dan, who had given Phil his number right after a risque picture of his girlfriend had leaked. Dan, this boy that Phil was more than a little enamoured with and who might, just might, like Phil back.

And Phil wasn’t just getting to see Dan, he was getting to have drinks with Dan.

But the day seemed to absolutely drag on.

The day’s meetings at the BBC had been longer and more frustrating than normal. Overall, Phil was incredibly lucky. He was one of the first internet creators that the BBC had taken a risk on, and the success of his weekly radio show had not only opened the doors for dozens of other internet creators to work with the BBC, but had also allowed him to be granted a frankly ridiculous amount of creative freedom.

However, his shows producers had recently been pushing for Phil to do a special one-time show with a guest co-host — preferably someone with a strong musical background. They’d said it was to broaden the audience that listens to BBC Radio shows and, for some absurd reason, they’d thought Phil’s show would be the best place to start. They were really pleased with the younger demographic Phil’s show had reached, but were hoping to introduce new listeners — who were supposedly more interested in music than the internet — to his show.

Phil understood their point; the radio station was first and foremost about music, and his show (as well as several that had started after the success of Phil’s) focused much more heavily on other things. It made sense that they would want to have a special episode (or maybe even two, as they had hinted at) with someone who knew more about music than Phil did, someone that appealed to a different demographic. It would attract new listeners to the show who were interested in the special host — listeners who would potentially turn into more devoted listeners of BBC Radio.

The producers weren’t particularly picky about who Phil invited onto his show— in fact, they had thrown several big, exciting names at Phil. They seemed fairly confident that they could secure a one-time appearance from anyone performing in the Live Lounge in the upcoming weeks. The producers had also offered to reach out to people from other parts of the music industry, if Phil preferred. As he walked back to his apartment, his mind was still reeling at some of the names they had suggested.

And it was great. Phil knew he should be ecstatic about this kind of opportunity, flattered that the BBC had thought that his measly little radio show was the right place to start gaining a new demographic. But the fact of the matter was, Phil was too fucking awkward to have a co-host he barely knew — especially a famous one. When it came to interacting with people, Phil was a mess. At least when he did collabs, he was able to edit out all of his awkward social interactions. But live? Live, he would be forced to endure his viewers mocking his social ineptitude for weeks.

He just wasn’t very good at interacting with people he didn’t know, and he didn’t need the whole world to see that.

So Phil had tried his best to fight them, to lay out why that might be a horrific idea. At the end of the meeting, though, they had made him promise to think about it, and if he came up with anyone he would collaborate with — anyone at all — to email his producers as soon as possible, and they would try to set it up.

Unlikely, Phil scoffed. He was fairly certain that there was no way he was going to feel comfortable hosting some bigshot that he barely knew on his show.

Because of all of the conflict, Phil’s meetings took longer than he anticipated. By the time he got home, he barely had time to change and have a quick bite to eat before he had to head out the door to meet Dan.

************************

Phil, who always did his best to be on time, showed up to Harold’s at 6:58, knowing that there was absolutely no chance that Dan was there yet. If Phil had learned one thing while getting to know Dan, it was that Dan was basically incapable of being on time.

Surely, it had to annoy a lot of people in his life, but Phil found it to kind of be an endearing quality. The more he got to know Dan, the more he realized that Dan was always late because he had a tendency to get wholeheartedly wrapped up in whatever he was doing, which usually caused him to misjudge how long he needed to get ready, or how much time he needed to allot for travel. That was just how Dan was, Phil had discovered — an unbelievably passionate person.

So when Phil walked into Harold’s two minutes early, only to be greeted with, “Hey, Phil! Over here!” he understandably had a moment of panic. For a moment, Phil was convinced that a fan just happened to be in the same bar where Phil was about to have drinks with Dan Howell.

But then his eyes found the person shouting at him, landing on none other than Dan himself, who was seated with his back to the door. He was peeking out over the edge of a tall booth he was tucked into — a small, four-person booth in the back corner.The bar, with its dim lighting and slightly dodgy atmosphere, already lent itself to anonymity, but the far back booth, with the flickering light and high walls, practically screamed leave us alone.

It was exactly the booth Phil would have picked out, and not just because he was hoping to avoid the scrutiny of his viewers for the evening.

Fuck, Phil shouldn’t be thinking about that. He had no actual evidence that Dan was single — twitter was notorious for getting facts wrong. And even if Dan turned out to be single now, this wasn’t a date. When Dan had originally asked Phil to get drinks, he was literally on his way to a Valentine’s Day date with this girlfriend. Plus, Dan’s sister was getting drinks with them. If that didn’t scream this isn’t a date, Phil wasn’t sure what did.

But still, Phil felt a spark of happiness that he couldn’t quite squash when he thought about the fact that Dan had selected the most intimate booth in the bar.

Phil made his way over to Dan’s side, dodging around all of the empty tables. “You’re here,” he said in lieu of a proper greeting when he got to the booth.

“Yeah, you spoon. Of course I’m here.” Dan had a smirk on his face, but his eyes reflected genuine happiness. Whatever Tatler was insinuating about Isabella must not be true, not if Dan currently looked this happy. Phil tried not to feel too disappointed. Above everything else, Dan had become one of Phil’s best friends, and Phil shouldn’t be rooting for his heart to get broken.

“I just meant, you’re early,” Phil teased.

At the end of the booth, Dan’s coat was hanging on a hook — it was the one that Dan claimed made him look like a wraith, but Phil would argue just made him look kissable.

Phil pulled off his much brighter coat and hung it over top of Dan’s.

Assuming the second drink sat next to Dan belonged to Adaline, Phil started to move around to the other side of the table, prepared to sit across from Dan, but Dan caught him off guard when he grabbed onto Phil’s sleeve and pulled him into the booth next to him. The full, fruity looking drink was pushed towards him.

Dan nodded his head and raised his own drink in a quick cheers motion.

Phil wrapped his hands around the cold drink, pulling it in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.” He tipped his drink towards Dan, mimicking the cheers, but way less smoothly. Unlike Dan, Phil nearly sloshed a bit of the drink out. Smooth.

Dan sent him an unimpressed look, but Phil could see the humor dancing in his eyes. “I’m capable of being early, Philip.”

“Really?” Phil cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’ve never seen it.”

“Shut up,” Dan swatted his arm, twisting around a bit in the booth so he could look at Phil properly. Dan’s leg came up to rest on the booth between them, his ankle tucking under his opposite knee so that his shin was pressing against Phil’s thigh. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Phil’s face flamed up, heat burning his cheeks when he realized what he’d just said. Shit, something about being around Dan made Phil confess all of his desires — even the ones he probably shouldn’t tell Dan about. The only salvation was the fact that Dan’s cheeks turned equally red, and his gaze suddenly dropped to his knee, which nudged Phil’s hip softly.

Phil thought he heard Dan mumble same under his breath, but he wasn’t sure. He was never sure of anything when it came to Dan.

Except for the minor detail that Phil was very, very sure he was head over heels for this boy.

“So,” Phil cleared his throat, trying to restore some sense of normality to their conversation. “I thought you said Adeline was joining us?”

“She is. Um,” Dan’s eyes flitted to his phone, which was resting face up on the table. “Her train was delayed, actually. That’s part of why I’m early. I realized she was going to be late like fifteen minutes ago and I figured you were probably on your way, so I just told her to drop her bag off at my place and come down and meet us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have minded waiting if you wanted to pick her up,” Phil insisted.

“No!” Dan almost shouted, before widening his eyes bashfully at Phil. “I — she’s a big girl. She’s capable of getting a cab from the train station to my flat and walking one block. It’s fine.”

Phil took another sip of his drink. “Okay, then. I’m excited to meet her, but I’m not heartbroken to get a little bit of time alone with you.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and for a moment Phil was worried that he’d said the wrong thing, that he’d finally found the imaginary line between them and leaped over it. But his worries were assuaged when Dan let out a tiny whine before collapsing forward, his forehead falling onto Phil’s shoulder. Trying his best not to disturb Dan, to not make him feel like he needed to move, Phil twisted his head a bit so he could look at Dan. From what Phil could see of his face, Dan was smiling bashfully, his dimples and red patch on full display.

This time, Phil was confident that he heard Dan mumble me either — he could feel the vibrations of Dan’s voice against his arm. Phil could get used to having Dan’s head on his shoulder, maybe even tucked in more securely, his breath wafting over Phil’s neck instead of his arm. Dan rested there for a moment, before leaning back up. The red spot on his cheek had subsided some, but the dimples were still prominent. Phil was glad for that, he hadn’t seen those dimples nearly enough lately.

“So, um,” Phil fumbled, still not quite composed after having Dan so close. “How late is Adaline?”

Dan sat up a hair straighter, as if the reminder of his sister had pulled him out of something. The way his leg was pushed against Phil’s, and how close his drink was to Phil’s, still left Dan very much in Phil’s personal space, though.

“She’ll be here within the half hour, she wasn’t delayed that much.” Dan took a long drink out of his glass, and the topic of his sister seemed to melt away. “So,” Dan poked Phil in the ribcage, “Tell me about your day.”

Shrugging, Phil took another sip of the fruity concoction. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it a lot. Dan normally drank bitter things — who the heck drinks a triple espresso with only one sugar? — but Phil prefered his drinks sweet. He was glad that Dan hadn’t ordered him whatever dark liquid was in his own short, round glass.

“It wasn’t particularly exciting, I worked most of it.” Phil couldn’t keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. He wasn’t quite over how much he’d clashed with the show’s producers today — it was rare, so Phil didn’t feel particularly equipped to deal with creative differences.

Dan looked unconvinced, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. “Your work is exciting though,” he pouted. “What did you do?”

“Not Fridays,” Phil grimaced. “I always have loads of meetings,” he explained. “I have my weekly radio show planning meetings with the BBC today, which was…” Phil rolled his eyes and took sip of the drink as he searched for the right word. “Stressful.”

Dan’s glass — and the fingers wrapped tightly around it — pushed against Phil’s arm as Dan’s other arm slid across the table, his head coming to rest in the palm of his hand, his eyes staring widely up at Phil. “Why’s that?”

“Just, you know,” Phil waved vaguely, “Pressure from the bosses about things.”

Dan groaned, straightening up a bit so that he could take a sip of his drink. “I know what you mean. What are they giving you pressure about?” His eyes narrowed, a smile threatening to break out on his mock-angry face. “Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

“No, no,” Phil laughed, blushing a bit at Dan’s overprotective attitude, even if he was joking. Phil busied himself with another drink while he figured out what he wanted to say to Dan. “It’s just, you know, publicity type stuff?” His voice ended like it was a question, and Phil lowkey hated himself for that. He had no reason to feel weird talking to Dan about fame-related things, which usually made him feel insufferably pretentious. But if there was anyone in Phil’s life who would truly get it, it was Dan.

Dan stared back at him with raised eyebrows — not disbelieving, just curious — prompting Phil to continue. “I have the radio show, right?”

“Yes, which I finally got the chance to listen to and it’s wonderful,” Dan interjected with a playful smile. “I think your voice was made for radio, it’s hot. Although, the fact that you livestream your face doesn’t hurt either.”

What in the fucking —

Phil took a large gulp of his drink, unsure of what the hell Dan was getting at. Sure, Dan was flirty sometimes, but he seemed far more forward than usual today. Phil glanced at Dan’s drink, which was nearly empty. Was it possible that Dan was tipsy already? Tipsy Dan had been flitier than usual, after all. But Phil didn’t remember Dan being a light-weight. Surely three quarters of a drink wouldn’t push Dan to the point it had taken three drinks to get him to last time, right?

Maybe Dan had drank something else sometime before Phil had arrived?

“I — uh, thanks,” Phil stuttered, very flustered, completely incapable of saying anything more intelligent.

“So what about it?” Dan prompted, knocking the knuckles of his fingers against Phil’s when Phil didn’t carry on with his story.

“We’re having a bit of a… creative difference,” Phil offered in way of explanation. He didn’t want to bore Dan with the details of his story. Dan looked interested now, but Phil wasn’t sure if Dan genuinely wanted to know every intricacy of Phil’s life (like the way Phil wanted to know the intricacies of Dan’s).

Dan shook his head, bringing the amber liquid to his lips for another swallow. “That’s the fucking worst. What happened?”

Apparently, Phil had underestimated Dan’s interest. The question didn’t sound insincere. It sounded like Dan actually wanted to know about Phil’s problem, that Dan actually wanted to support Phil.

“They’re pushing for me to do a special show with a guest host — preferably someone who knows more about music than me — so that they can, quote, draw in a new listener demographic or something.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Dan cocked his head. “So you’re against this idea…?”

“A little,” Phil confirmed with a shrug and another drink. “I don’t want to see disingenuine — and maybe more importantly, I don’t want to make an ass of out myself on live air by being awkward because I barely know my co-host.”

Dan hummed as he drank the last swallow of his drink. “Would you feel differently if it was someone you knew?” he contemplated.

“I guess,” Phil shrugged. “It would at least feel less fake, and I’d probably feel less uncomfortable.”

Dan waved his hand in a gesture that seemed to say so what? “What’s the hold up, then?”

“I’m a vloggy youtuber, it’s not like I really have any work connections I can try to force into collabing on me with this.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dan looked at Phil blankly, a slightly annoyed tint to his eye.

“What?” Phil asked, confused, after a few beats.

In explanation, Dan circled his hand around his face wildly, looking at Phil like he was an idiot.

“You’re going to have to be more explicit, Daniel.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Gee, if only one of your non-work friends just happened to be in the music industry,” he said, resting his chin primly in the palm of his hand.

It took Phil a second, but he finally caught on. “Oh — oohhh! Would you — like — do you think you’d want to —”

Dan stared back with raised eyebrows and an expecting expression. “Yeah, dumbshit,” he said, finally. “I mean, I highly doubt that radio is my undiscovered talent, but I’d try it for you.”

“You’d — for me —?” Phil stuttered ineloquently.

“Of course, you spoon. I’d love first row tickets to AmazingPhil, even if that means embarrassing myself on live radio.”

“I’d feel bad,” Phil waffled. “It’s a huge professional favor, and I’d want to give something back. I’m absolutely rubbish at all things music, though, so it’s not like I could repay you at all.”

“Trust me, Phil, you do plenty for me. Both personally and professionally. If anything, I owe you a favor.”

Phil blinked blankly at Dan. What the fuck does that mean? Phil wracked his brain, trying to think of a single time where anything he had done had even remotely helped Dan professionally.

Phil was so concentrated on trying to figure out what Dan was implying that he almost forgot to respond.

“Um, if you’re serious,” Phil spun his glass awkwardly in his hands, “I’ll speak to them. They seemed pretty open about who I had on the show.”

With the hand that wasn’t cupped around his short glass, Dan reached up and ruffled Phil’s hair. “Of course I’m serious, anything to help you silly goose. Talk to them, and let me know what they say.”

“Thanks, Dan!” Phil smiled back, suddenly far more excited about the prospect of a guest-host than he had been that morning. “So how was your day?” Phil asked.

“Uneventful,” Dan shrugged. “I slept in, which felt great, and then I was surprisingly social for a bit, before managing to work some this afternoon.

The conversation that Phil had overheard between Dan and Louise had made it sound like Dan had big breakfast plans — plans that were big enough to require some sort of debriefing with Louise. But if Dan slept in before socializing, did that mean breakfast — whatever that was supposed to be — didn’t happen?

“I feel like I’m actually making progress on this album.” Dan continued, obvious to Phil’s confusion. He was smiling, though,, and Phil could see the passion building as he started talking about his music. “When Louise set a deadline of half the album before Germany, I thought she was insane. But at this rate, I think I’ll be okay.”

Phil managed to control his surprise at Dan’s lack of mentioning anything more exciting, but only just. Was work only thing Dan had done today — or was that all that he was willing to share with Phil? Phil wasn’t sure if Dan’s dramatic sounding breakfast plans potentially falling through was a good thing or not.

Phil sighed, trying to shake off his confused thoughts, and turned to his drink again, quickly finishing it. When he’d regained his composure, he turned back to Dan, “So you actually went outside and socialized today?”

“Meh, nothing big,” Dan said indifferently — he certainly didn’t make it sound like whatever social activity he’d done was noteworthy enough to mention. “I knew we were meeting for drinks and Adaline was coming, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to hole up in my house and work.”

There was no way Phil could continue pushing about Dan’s morning — not after Dan had turned the subject to work a second time. At least not without it being painfully obvious that Phil was fishing for details. He took Dan’s lead and switched topics to Dan’s music, genuinely curious about how his work was going.

“Were you writing again today?” Phil asked, trying to show that he was just as interested in Dan’s work as Dan was in his.

“Yeah, the song I was working on the other night, you know, the one from skype? I think it’s coming together. Up until today I just had snippets of lyrics but I’m pretty sure I made it into something coherent, something that flows and actually matches the melody.”

“That’s awesome, Dan!” Phil beamed, proud of Dan’s accomplishment. “How are you feeling about the album so far?”

“Amazing, actually.” Dan’s fingers tapped excitedly against his empty glass. “It’s not what I set out to do, but I’m somehow actually writing a concept album.”

“Wow! What’s the concept?” Phil blurted out before he realized that Dan might not want to — or might not be able to answer that. “Or is that top secret?” he added, giving Dan an easy way out of the question.

“It not top secret, per say,” Dan started before his attention suddenly snapped away from Phil, turning towards his phone. Confused, Phil’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze following Dan’s.

Adaline: did I miss you and loverboy at home bc i’m here and i don’t see you

If Adaline was here, and she knew she was meeting Dan and Phil — which presumably she did — loverboy had to refer to Phil… right? The rational part of Phil’s brain tried, really tried, to keep his hopes in check, to not think too wishfully, but the part of Phil that was completely infatuated with Dan was positively screaming.

With a message like that staring Phil in the face, it was almost impossible not to get his hopes up.

Quickly, Phil averted his gaze. He may not know what that message meant, but he did know that he was definitely not meant to see it. Fortunately for him, Dan was too preoccupied by the text and popping his head over the back of their booth, peeking back towards the door, to realize that Phil had seen it.

Phil ducked around their booth as well, looking towards the entrance and trying to who Dan was looking for. A younger girl was standing near the entrance, her eyes scanning through the crowd.

Dan’s knee nudged insistently against Phil a few times. “Budge over and let me out, will you?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded numbly, not fully processing anything that was happening, his attention still focused on loverboy. Eyes and mind glazed over, Phil slid out of the booth, letting Dan slip out behind him. Phil watched as Dan strode over to the door and enthusiastically enveloped the young brunette in his arms. When Dan leaned out of the embrace, he didn’t pull all the way back, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her over to the table.

“I missed you, you know,” Phil heard Dan say as they came within earshot.

“It’s been like a month, Dan,” the girl responded, elbowing Dan in the ribs.

Dan shrugged, not looking embarrassed at being called out on his feelings. It was cute, seeing Dan so happy to see his sister. It reminded Phil of how he felt when he saw his brother after a long separation. Phil knew that Dan hadn’t been as close with Adaline as Phil had been with Martyn while they were growing up, but he also knew that Dan was determined to build a better relationship with his sister now that she was older. It looked like he was doing a good job.

Dan led her to the other side of the booth before hovering at the table’s end between them.

“Yeah, well,” Dan sighed, rocking back and forth on his feet, “It’s been a long month.”

“So it would seem.” Dan’s sister, Adaline’s, eyes flickered between their empty glasses, and Phil wondered if she was thinking about the fact that they had both already been on the same side of the table when she arrived. Lord knows it was on Phil’s mind.

With a look of intent, Adaline’s attention switched to Phil, her eyes quickly flickering back to Dan with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m being rude,” Dan apologized, nervously arranging the mop of curls on his head. “Phil, meet my sister, Adaline. Addie, this is my — um, Phil.”

The tips of Dan’s ears turned red, a matching spot coloring his cheek. A wide, cheeky smirk took over Adaline’s face. It was a smirk he’d seen before; Dan had flashed him that same expression countless times.

My what? Phil wondered, his cheeks flushing to match Dan’s. Surely Dan wouldn’t have cut himself off from saying friend. So what had he been about to say?

“Good to meet you, Phil,” Adaline was saying. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The red spot on Dan’s cheek deepened, and Phil could feel his own cheeks heating up to match it. “I — yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“Awww, are you bragging about me, big brother?” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, I can’t help talking about people I care about, okay?” Dan took a small step back from the table.

Shit, the both of them really needed to stop saying things that made Phil’s heart skip. At this point, he wasn’t sure if there was blood left anywhere in his body other than his face.

“So,” Dan broke the silence in what he probably hoped was a smooth interruption (it wasn’t). “Who wants what to drink?”

Phil pointed to his glass. “I liked whatever this was.”

“Okay, another Dark ‘n Stormy.” Dan snapped his fingers, making a lame finger gun at Phil. “Sis?”

“Whatever you’re having?” She suggested tentatively, her order coming out more like a question than a request.

“Right—” Another awkward finger gun. “I’ll be back in a moment, lads. Behave.”

Phil felt an internal moment of panic at being left completely alone with Dan’s sister after such a brief introduction. Apparently, his wariness wasn’t unfounded.

“So you’re Phil?” Adaline questioned the moment Dan was out of earshot, an impish look on her face.

“Y-yes?” Phil stuttered back insecurely, spinning his empty glass in his hand for lack of something better to do. Everything Phil knew about Dan was telling him not to trust the mischievous expression Adaline was fixing him with.

“Dan somehow forgot to mention that his lovely new friend Phil from the coffee shop was AmazingPhil.” A wide smirk took over Adaline’s face — a smirk Phil had seen before, on Dan.

Phil wasn’t sure just how worried he should be about the fact that Dan’s sister apparently knew who he was. Phil had told Dan countless things he had no desire for his viewers to know, and he had no idea how much of that information Dan had shared with his sister. Phil wholeheartedly trusted Dan, and recognized that if Adaline came from the same family, she was probably trustworthy too. But the fact remained that he didn’t know her. “I —”

He had no idea what to say.

“It’s fine, I saw through twitter beforehand, so it’s not like it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I’m not a crazy fan or anything.” Adaline was much more nonchalant than Dan had been when he’d found out about Phil’s channel. Did that mean Adaline didn’t care, or had she just been exposed enough that it just wasn’t shocking anymore?

“Oh… have you, like, watched my videos?” Phil fished, trying to get a read on how potentially dangerous this situation might be.

“A few. I found your channel through PJ’s a few months ago and happened to see a few. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the guy that was suddenly tweeting at my brother.”

“Er — yeah. Dan about had a heart attack when he found out,” Phil chuckled.

“I know,” Adaline laughed mercilessly at her brother. “He called me up in a fit the next day.”

“What a nerd,” Phil said with a roll of his eyes and a soft chuckle. He was pretty sure that his fondness for Dan was seeping into his voice, but he was well past the point in their friendship where he had any hopes of controlling it.

Luckily, Dan saved Phil from the embarrassment of Adaline potentially calling him out on his soft spot for Dan by Dan coming back, precariously balancing three drinks in his hands. He sat the fruity drink in front of Phil, pushed something clear and bubbly towards Adaline, and slid a half-full cup of amber liquid back towards his original seat.

“Let me in, Philly,” Dan smiled, tapping much more rapidly at Phil’s shoulder than was necessary.

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” Phil insisted. “You impatient little brat,” he added under his breath.

Unfortunately, his jab seemed to be heard by everyone at the table. Dan smacked him playfully upside the head.

“Oh look, he knows you already,” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, Addie,” Dan said as he slid across the bench, stopping halfway to the wall so that he was still very much in Phil’s space when Phil sat back down. Absolutely nothing Dan and Phil did seemed to escape Adaline’s notice; her gaze was concentrated on the space — or rather, lack thereof — between them. Phil shifted nervously under Adaline’s scrutiny. He wasn’t sure what to make of how closely she was watching them.

“I thought I asked for the same thing as you?” Adaline questioned, letting her attention drift from the minute distance between them to just Dan.

“Yeah, but I’m drinking Jameson neat and I figured one of us needed to keep their head on straight,” Dan answered with a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” she grumbled back, taking a sip of whatever Dan had passed her.

“Don’t worry, loser,” Dan quipped. “It still has alcohol in it. Plus, I figured you might like that better, seeing as you’re like Phil here and don’t care for bitter drinks.”

“Right, I’m sure giving me a weaker drink was a totally selfless, caring choice.” Adaline looked skeptically at Dan, who anxiously passed his glass back and forth between his hands.

Phil took pity on Dan and decided to change the topic, taking the focus off him for a moment. “So, what are you doing in London?” he turned with a smile to Adaline.

“Err…” Adaline mumbled shiftily, her eyes darting to Dan.

“We’re doing a uni tour tomorrow,” Dan supplied. Really smoothly.

“That’s awesome! Which uni?” Phil knew that Adaline was important to Dan and he wanted to show that he was interested, that he could get along with Dan’s family.

“Imperial,” Dan said at the same time that Adaline answered, “Middlesex.”

“Um…” Phil uncertainly looked between the two of them. Had one of them gotten confused? Did they suck at communicating? What the hell was happening here?

“We’re touring two!” Dan said abruptly, looking a bit like a deer caught in headlights. “Middlesex in the morning and Imperial in the afternoon!”

Adaline nodded along quickly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m, um, trying to decide which I like more!” Something about the way Adaline said it sounded fake, like she’d decided that on the spot. But why?

Regardless, Phil decided it was probably best to drop that conversation, since it seemed to have sparked a weird vibe between the siblings. “I’m going to run to the loo,” Phil said, hoping that the tension would dissipate before he got back, and that maybe, just maybe, he could have a moment to think rationally without Dan touching him and causing Phil’s thoughts to scramble.

Dan tugged on Phil’s sleeve, catching his attention. “Will you get me a water while you’re up, Philly?”

“No problem. Adaline?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Be right back,” Phil grinned before he turned away.

He only got a few feet from the table before he froze, realizing that he had no idea where the loo was here. He glanced around, searching the walls for a sign.

“Adaline!” Phil hear Dan hiss. “Since when are you interested in bloody Middlesex?”

“I’m not!” she whispered back. “I panicked and said the first school that came to mind!”

Phil spotted the bathroom sign and slinked away, hoping to not draw any attention to how close he still was to the table.

So he’d been right — there had been some weirdness when they were talking about why Adaline was in London.

But if it wasn’t for touring a uni, what was she here for?

**************************

By the fourth drink, Phil could feel the rum loosening his tongue — something he should probably be concerned about, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about. In his tipsy state, he turned to Dan and finally asked a question that had been plaguing him since yesterday.

“So, how was breakfast this morning?” Phil drawled, looking curiously at Dan.

Okay, it wasn’t the exact question he’d wanted to ask, but it would hopefully still get him the answer he was seeking.

It wasn’t until Dan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously that Phil remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know about breakfast. All Dan had said was that he’d “socialized” this morning.

“I didn’t realize I’d told you I had breakfast plans,” Dan said in a tone that made it clear he definitely knew he hadn’t told Phil about his plans.

Well, fuck.

“I — um, so.” Out of the corner of his eye, Phil could see Adaline’s eyes bouncing back and forth, back and forth between him and Dan. Phil scrambled for a moment, trying to find something he could say to cover his arse. But his tipsy mind couldn’t land on a good excuse before his tipsy tongue took over. “Look, cards on the table. I might have overheard you and Louise talking yesterday.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Dan — maybe him to be angry that Phil had been eavesdropping, maybe a chiding remark. He definitely wasn’t expecting Dan’s eyes to widen all the way and a look of panic to cross his face. But that’s what he got.

“The whole conversation?” Dan looked well worried about something.

Oh, you know, just the part where Louise was demanding to meet some guy in your life and you wouldn’t let her into the coffee shop. And the small part where you both were freaking out about whatever the hell your breakfast plans are. But no, no...

“No, why?” Phil said instead. If the look on Dan’s face was anything to go by, Phil should definitely not confess to how much he’d overheard. Which was… interesting, given the content of it.

A wave of tension appeared to wash out of Dan’s body, his shoulders untensing and his fingers unclenching from his glass. “N-no reason.”

Phil didn’t believe that for a moment. He’d let it slide though, for now at least.

“Breakfast didn’t happen though,” Dan said cryptically, not elaborating oh why breakfast didn’t happen or what breakfast was supposed to have been.

Adaline, for her part, was starting at Dan just as studiously as Phil was, which led Phil to believe that not only was breakfast something Adaline knew about, but he was right in his suspicions that it was supposed to have been something.

Phil knew he probably shouldn’t, but he decided to push his luck. “Oh, why not?” He hoped he sounded nonchalant, and not like he had an underlying motive for trying to figure out more information.

Dan breathed out a long sigh and knocked back half of his drink.

For a moment, Phil was worried that Dan wasn’t going to answer — or worse, that Dan was going to tell Phil to fuck off and that Phil shouldn’t be pestering him with questions about something he’d overheard.

Dan pleasantly surprised Phil, though, when he confessed the truth. “Well, the whole point of breakfast was to dump Isabella.” His voice was quiet, his words slightly slurred, and his eyes concentrated on his glass, but the meaning of what Dan had said rang loud and clear.

Breaking up with Isabella. As in, Dan making himself single and available. But —

Shit. Dan hadn’t gone to breakfast. Phil latched onto that fact, trying to make his brain wrap around what that meant — that Dan probably hadn’t gone through with his plans to break up with her.

Why? Why was the world being so cruel to Phil?

“Did you change your mind, then?” Phil asked, aiming to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a wobble to his voice that was surely betraying his true feelings: panic and disappointment.

“What?” Dan’s head snapped up from his glass, looking at Phil in alarm. ���No!” he corrected hastily. “I ended up breaking up with her last night.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

A million emotions rushed through Phil, and he wasn’t sure which one he should be paying the most attention to. He was relieved, so fucking relieved that Dan was single. That Isabella was out of the picture. He was worried, worried that Dan was upset or heartbroken about it — or worse, that there might have been some truth to the picture Phil saw on twitter last night.

But above it all, Phil felt a wave a clarity. If Dan had broken up with Isabella last night, that casted his actions in the last twenty four hours into a whole new light — Dan giving Phil his phone number seemingly out of the blue, Dan being much more forward tonight, Dan’s thigh currently pressing into Phil’s.

Were all of those things connected to the fact that Dan was now single?

Dan’s eyes bored into Phil’s, looking like they were trying to stare into his soul, like they were trying to communicate something.

Looking like they were confirming everything that Phil was thinking.

Against his better judgment, Phil’s heart soared. He should wait until he’d heard verbal confirmation from Dan, he should wait until Dan was single for more than a mere day.

He should wait.

But he couldn’t.

“Mum said to pass on her congratulations, by the way,” Adaline said with a smirk. The tension — the sexual tension, Phil was pretty sure — broke between Dan and Phil as they boy whipped their heads around to face Adaline. From the surprised long on Dan’s face, Phil wagered Dan had forgotten that Adaline was there just as much as Phil had.

Dan shook his head, seemingly pulling himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. “Mum is congratulating me for getting cheated on?” He sounded somehow both bitter and humored.

“So it’s true, then?” Adaline asked softly, the smile draining from her face.

Dan’s gaze fell and he fiddled with his napkin. “Yeah, it’s true.” There was no emotion left, he just sounded defeated.

“I’m sorry, bear. That sucks,” Adaline murmured, rubbing her hand against his forearm.

“It’s fine,” Dan said with a forced smile, fake positivity in his voice. His efforts to seem fine about that aspect of it were painfully transparent. “I was going to end it anyway. That just made it — you know, easier to do.”

“Still,” Phil chimed in, “That sucks. I’m sorry it had to end like that.”

“I mean, yeah, me too.” Dan took another long sip of his drink, almost draining it. “But, hey, the outcome is the same, right? And it made me feel justified in doing it on Valentine’s Day, so at least there’s that.”

“Oh god, how far did you get in your date before things went awry?” Phil asked, horrified.

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “All the way to the end. I actually DMed you right after I left her apartment.”

“Uh!” Adaline interjected indignantly. “Excuse me, did you really DM him before calling me back, Daniel?”

The ashamed look on Dan’s face was enough of an answer. “Um, maybe. It’s not like it took long!” he defended.

“Excuse you,” Adaline crossed her arms defiantly, but in her tipsy state, she misestimated her movements and ended up smacking herself lightly in the shoulder, which seriously reduced the effectiveness of the action. “I”ll have you know that you’d given me a right scare after demanding I call you with a fake emergency and then ignoring my calls for nearly an hour.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Phil interrupted before Dan could further defend himself. “Did you really make your sister call you with a fake emergency so you could leave? Are you fourteen?”

“See!” Adaline cheered too loudly. “Phil agrees with me, you were being a baby.”

“Look,” Dan tried to explain, his hands waving around a little more wildly than normal. “You guys don’t know Izzy like I do. She doesn’t take very kindly to having her… sexual advances turned down—” Oh god, Phil thought, the alcohol had clearly loosened Dan’s tongue as well. “— and by that point I’d used up every excuse in the book.”

“Oh,” Adaline’s brows furrowed. “Was she just really not taking no for an answer last night?”

“Er, not quite,” Dan mumbled sketchily.

“Dish. What are you getting at?” Adaline demanded, banging her hands noisily on the table in earnest.

Phil was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear this. Whatever details of his sex life that Tispy Dan decided were appropriate to share were probably things that would only make Phil feel like shit. Briefly, Phil considered excusing himself to the bar to buy another round, or maybe even to go to the loo for the third time that night. Anything to avoid having to listen to Dan talk about sex with Isabella.

But Dan answered before Phil could do any of those things.

“More like over the past month. I’ve kind of been avoiding that for a while now.”

“I’m sorry, you wh-what?” Adaline choked a little on the liquid she was trying to swallow.

A month. Dan had been avoiding having sex with Isabella for a month. Out of all the things Dan could have said about his sex life, that had to be the most surprising one. He was dating a model for god’s sake, why hadn’t he to have sex with her for a month?

Nevertheless, Phil was glad. He had no claim to Dan, but knowing that he hadn’t been sleeping with Isabella for a while now… well, it was a relief.

“It’s not that big of a deal, okay.” Dan gave her a sharp look. “It just… hasn’t felt right—” His eyes flickered over to Phil, lingering for a moment, before returning to Adaline. “—for a while now. So I, you know, haven’t.”

Shit. Phil froze, staring at Dan long after Dan had returned his attention to Adaline. The way he looked at Phil, the heat that was in his eyes, made Phil feel like maybe he was the reason Dan didn’t feel right sleeping with Isabella.

“Oh my god,” Adaline gasped. “I —”

“Drop it, Addie,” Dan said tersely. “Enough about the demise of my shitty relationship.” His voiced lightened up some, turning almost teasing. “Now tell us about this date that you may or may not have had tonight that you were so easily persuaded to bail on.”

Well that certainly made it sound like whatever Adaline was in London for was because Dan had asked her to be. That explained why they were so weird about the uni tour thing, at least. It was odd that they felt the need to lie about why Adaline was there to Phil, but his alcohol hazed mind couldn’t come up with any possible explanations for it.

And clearly, Dan was too far gone to keep up pretenses about why Adaline was here.

“I just wasn’t that interested in the bloke, that’s all.”

“You not have a great Valentine’s Day either, then?” Dan asked.

“Huh?” Adaline looked perplexed for a moment before recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, no. Not that. Um, don’t judge me and go all big-brother.”

Dan raised his eyebrows expectantly. Phil had flashes of what Dan might be like in full big-brother mode, and hoped that he might get to see a glimpse of it.

“The bloke from last night was good. We’re going out Sunday. Tonight was going to be a, uh, different guy.”

“Adaline!” Dan admonished. “Are you really dating around? I thought we’d already talked about the dangers of sleeping with more than one person at a time! What if one of them has something? You need to be a bit more careful!”

Evidently Phil was getting to see big-brother Dan after all. He found it funny that they were apparently so open about sex, but yet Dan was still being protective.

“I’m being safe! Chill, bro.” Adaline chugged the rest of her drink. “Oh looky there, I’m all out of beverage. Dan?”

“You’re a piece of work,” he mumbled to Adaline, before swallowing the rest of his own drink. “I get us another round then, eh?” Dan poked Phil again, forcing him to let Dan out. Dan poked lower than he had last time, missing his ribs and hitting the soft, ticklish bit of Phil’s stomach.

On instinct, Phil spun towards Dan, catching Dan’s hand in his own, a giggle tumbling out of his lips. “Dan!”

“Oh dear, is Philly ticklish?” Dan’s other hand came around, poking Phil in the same spot, causing him to squirm. Phil’s free hand flew out, snagging Dan’s other hand. “Oh dear, he is!”

Dan wrestled with Phil a little, trying to wiggle his hands free so that he could poke Phil again. He succeeded in loosening Phil’s grasp enough that he was able to launch forward and poke Phil again, his chest crashing into Phil’s arm. Phil folded in on himself, trying to protect his sides from Dan’s attack, causing Dan’s chest to slip from Phil’s arm to his back.

“I give, I give!” Phil managed to say through his giggles.

“You’re no fun,” Dan said, the laughter in his voice contradicting his words. The hand he’d broken free from Phil’s wrapped around the front of Phil’s waist, pulling him into a hug. Dan rocked him back and forth lightly. “You’re silly, you spoon.”

Phil leaned back into Dan, feeling so warm in Dan’s arms, but was startled by an obnoxiously fake coughing attack from Adaline.

“I’m still here boys. And parched.”

Dan’s face heated up. “Sorry, sis. I’ll be right back.”

Phil started to slide out of the booth to let Dan out, but Dan’s grip on his hips tightened, holding him firmly in place. For a moment, Phil was baffled at what Dan was trying to do, unable to make sense of how the heck Dan was planning to get out of the booth if Phil didn’t move.

But then, it became very, very clear how Dan was planning to get up.

Still pressing Phil into the booth, Dan’s opposite leg swung across Phil, and, suddenly, Dan was straddling him.

Time froze.

Phil’s vision, which had previously been slightly blurred from the alcohol, focused sharply on Dan. Dan, who was properly in Phil’s lap, his head towering above Phil’s, his eyes gazing down at him. Phil stared back up, forgetting that the rest of the world still existed. Instinctively, Phil’s eyes dropped down to Dan’s lips, and he thought about it. He thought about saying fuck it, about closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Dan’s. When Phil dragged his eyes back up Dan’s, he found that they were looking downward — like Dan was looking at Phil’s lips, like Dan was thinking about the same things.

“Fucking hell, Dan,” Adaline cried, sounding outraged. Her voice broke the trance between them, pulling Dan and Phil out of their own little world and back into the crowded, noisy bar.

“Right, sorry,” Dan murmured, far too quietly for Adaline to hear. His eyes searched Phil’s face one last time before he gave Phil’s hips a quick squeeze and climbed off his lap, abruptly heading for the bar.

Phil shifted in his seat. He had just enough inhibitions left to be embarrassed to face Adaline after that blatant display of flirting.

“So,” Adaline pounced on Phil the moment Dan was out of earshot.

“So…” Phil trailed off, unsure of why Adaline was looking so eager — and hesitant to find out.

Adaline crossed her arms, leaning forward on the table to inspect Phil. “You’re cuter than he normally goes for,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Phil just about spat the ice cube he was chewing on out of his mouth. I’m what now? He tried to make his brain focus and think through all of the rum that was currently clouding his sense of rationality.

Did she mean that Phil was cuter than the girls Dan had brought home in the past? Because last time Phil checked, he hardly thought he compared to a damn supermodel. But, also, it was weird to compare the attractiveness of guys and girls, right? Did that mean — ?

Did that mean Dan had brought home guys before?

“Sorry?” Phil eventually spat out unintelligently. He was completely lost for more complex thoughts.

Adaline snickered — she knew exactly what she was doing to Phil. She clearly had information about Dan, his dating life, his history with boys that Phil didn’t know. And she was taking full advantage of her position of power.

Goddamn, her and Dan were too much alike.

“When it comes to guys, I mean. They’re normally, well, less cute. Don’t tell him I told you that though.” She winked furtively at him. “I doubt he’d take kindly to me drunkenly spilling his secrets. That’s definitely not why he invited me here.”

Phil’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of what Adaline was saying, but his heart was already skipping a beat, and his stomach was turning over. What Adaline had just said — it made it sound like Dan had definitely dated boys before.

“Oops!” Adaline covered her mouth dramatically, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “Gee, whiz, did you not know that Dan’s bi?”

Phil’s heart had skipped a few beats before, but now it was downright pounding. The shock of what Adaline was implying — basically saying, at this point — was slowly starting to sink in.

So Dan had. Dan had definitely dated boys before — something Adaline had very intentionally just told him. That had to mean something for Phil, right? All of the things Phil had thought might be flirting, the way Dan had skirted around Isabella… That must mean something, then, right?

“I, um, no. Obviously,” Phil said when he was able to muddle through his drunken shock. He tried to organize his thoughts, tried to swallow his utter shock at having it confirmed that Dan was single, that Dan liked boys, to ask if all of that together meant that Dan liked him. “What did Dan invite you here for, then?”

Phil had to resist smacking himself in the forehead. That was an odd question to ask, given everything Phil had just learned, but okay.

To his surprise, Adaline cackled. “Actually, he wanted a babysitter.”

Phil rubbed his hands down his face, trying to get the drunk part of his brain to calm down so he could fucking process whatever the heck this was. What grown adult wanted a babysitter, and why? “Isn’t he, like, twenty three?”

Again, the wrong question to ask. Phil mentally kicked himself in the arse. Why was he completely botching this one moment he had with Drunk Adaline to learn more about Dan’s life?

“And asking to be babysat by an eighteen year old?” Adaline chucked. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Phil’s brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of that. Adaline seemed to find the situation as funny as Phil did. “Uh, why?”

Well, it lacked sophistication, but at least he was finally asking a worthwhile question.

“Apparently he didn’t want to drunkenly drag you back to his place to fuck.”

What in the —

If Phil was shocked by everything Adaline had said so far, he was completely floored by that.

A hot rush of arousal shot through Phil at the very mention of that, and he forced himself to shake it away as best as he could. Those weren’t thoughts he should let his mind drift to while he was sitting across from Dan’s sister.

Okay, fine, Adaline had said that Dan liked guys — that was great. And she’d implied that Dan liked Phil, which, okay, fantastic. But to explicitly say that Dan wanted to fuck Phil — that was a whole new level that Phil wasn’t prepared to hear.

He did his best to swallow his shock and respond to Adaline. “I — he what?”

Adaline narrowed her eyes, evaluating Phil, the slight upward turn of her lips a pale ghost of the raucous smirk it had been a moment before. She nodded slowly. “Listen up, though.” Her voice was sharp this time.

Phil’s eyes widened at the fast change in her attitude. “What?” So far, Adaline had been nothing but chipper and easy-going, so the quick shift to reprimanding took Phil by surprise.

“That kid,” she nodded to the bar where Dan was waiting in line for the bartender, “I’m not sure who that kid is.”

Phil opened his mouth to defend Dan. Dan was so insistent on getting to know his younger sister better, and hearing her say that she didn’t know Dan made Phil want to launch into a diatribe about how hard Dan was trying. But Adaline cut Phil off before he could start.

“I know Dan, well,” Adaline rushed on to say. “And I like this new version of him,” she clarified, sensing Phil’s desire to stand up for Dan. “But I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Phil cocked his head, trying to make sense of what Adaline was saying. The Dan that was here tonight didn’t seem that different from the Dan that Phil was used to. Sure, this Dan was a bit more forward, a bit more flirty than the Dan that Phil had previously gotten to know, but that could be easily accounted for by the fact that this Dan was single. That didn’t seem to explain why Adaline found the boy at the bar nearly unrecognizable.

“What do you mean this kid?” Phil forced out, hoping to figure out what the heck Adaline meant.

“The guy who doesn’t want to sleep with someone immediately after breaking up with someone else?” Adaline pointed out incredulously. “The guy who’s saying that he doesn’t want to fuck up a relationship by moving too fast and jumping into sex before he’s ready? I’ve never heard him say those things before you.”

Phil was dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that Dan was doing all of these things for the first time solely because of Phil. “You mean, he’s acting different… because of me?” Phil asked stupidly.

“Yes, you idiot, because of you.” Adaline rolled her eyes, just like Dan. “Apparently he’s determined to do whatever this—” she waved her hand vaguely towards Phil, “—is right.”

“Oh,” Phil breathed, unable to keep the wide, beaming smile off of his face. Dan had just ended a rather long relationship — it was downright dickish of Phil to be happy at this moment.

And yet, his heart felt like it was racing faster than a plane about to take off, his body was tingling more than if every single limb had gone numb at once, his stomach was turning over like he was strapped into a never ending roller coaster.

“No, don’t smile yet,” Adaline reprimanded. “I’m not done talking to you.”

Phil’s eyes widened in fear, but he couldn’t make the smile completely go away.

“Like I said, this is new. I’ve never known him to not be sleeping with someone.”

Phil’s eyes flickered away briefly, more uncomfortable with the idea of Dan sleeping with someone — anyone — than he’d like to admit.

“But that being said,” Adaline continued without any respect for Phil’s feelings, “He’s Mr. Fucking Monogamy — in case you couldn’t tell by his reaction to me seeing two guys at once.” Adaline shook her head in exasperation. “I know he’s happy to be done with Isabella — as are the rest of us, frankly — but if I know him at all, I’m willing to wager that getting cheating on is probably hurting him more than he’s letting on.”

“Of course!” Phil rushed to assure her. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I got cheated on, even if it was in world’s worst relationship.”

“Exactly.” Adaline stared at him pointedly. “Which is why you need to need to back the fuck up here.”

Phil was startled — whatever he’d been expecting the point of Adaline’s lecture to be, that wasn’t quite it. He worried at his inner lip, drawing it between his teeth and biting harshly. Did that mean Adaline thought Phil wasn’t good enough? Was Adaline saying that any possibility of a relationship with Dan was off the table?

“What do you mean?” Phil asked worriedly, trying to conceal just how deep his anxieties were running.

“I mean that I can’t drop everything and come to London every damn time you two hang out, so I’m going to need you to be respectful of the fact that at least sober Dan wants a little bit of recovery time before—” she waved at Phil again, “—this. Do you think you can do that?”

“I, yeah, of course. I just…” Phil searched for a way to articulate everything he was thinking, “Want him to be happy,” he finished lamely.

“Then wait a bit,” Adaline implored. “Let him come to you — sober, I might add.”

Wait.

Not fuck off entirely.

Just, wait.

Phil could wait. For Dan, Phil would wait until the damn sun burnt out if that’s what it took.

“I can do that,” Phil smiled.

“You smug git,” Adaline teased. “You’re too happy about the fact that he definitely likes you to give a fuck about waiting, aren’t you?”

“Basic—” Phil was cut off by Dan’s return.

“Here we go, lads.” He set the drinks he was carrying down on the table, sliding each one to the right spot. “I forgot how busy this place gets on Friday nights.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed as he took a sip of his fresh drink, hoping to avoid having to say anything for a moment so that he could process everything Adaline had just told him. And maybe to hide the stupidly big smile currently sat on his face.

Luckily, Dan took control of the conversation, as he was often want to do. And, like always, Dan proposed something that threw Phil for a loop.

“I want to tweet,” Dan bursted out abruptly. “Can I tweet?” He turned first to Phil, then to Adaline.

“Hey,” Adaline raised her hands in surrender, “I’m not here to police your public life.” She sent a wink at Phil that Dan was, in all probability, too drunk to notice.

“What do you want to tweet, Danny?” Phil asked. In general, Phil had no opposition to tweeting — but also, Dan could probably ask for the moon and Phil would start knitting a big enough lasso, so maybe he wasn’t the best judge.

“Ughhh,” he whined. “Please never call me Danny again. She called me that all the time, and if I ever have to hear that nickname again, I’ll fucking die.”

“Sorry,” Phil apologized. “Dear.”

Phil received a swift kick in the shin from Adaline for that, but it was well worth it when he watched Dan blush and mumble, “I like that a lot better.”

A burst of warmth rushed through Phil’s chest at the genuinely content, flattered look Dan had on his face.

Phil cleared his throat. “So, dear—” another kick to the shin — that was definitely going to bruise, not that Phil really cared that much. “What do want to tweet?”

“Us! And our drinks!” Dan exclaimed, looking more like an overjoyed child than he had any right to at this moment in time. Phil picked up Dan’s phone off the table, grabbing Dan’s hand without asking and pressing his thumb to the home button to unlock it. Once it was unlocked, he opened the camera and slid the phone across the table to Adaline.

He turned his attention back to Dan. “What are we doing in this tweet?”

In response, Dan pushed Phil’s Dark ‘N Stormy into his hand, picking up his own drink. “Hold it and look at the camera,” Dan ordered.

Obediently, Phil raised his glass to his mouth, dramatically taking a sip for the camera. Dan held his up at the same level as Phil’s, giving the camera a knowing look. The camera clicked loudly half a dozen times while Adaline took several version of the same picture so that they had some to pick from.

When Dan deemed there to be enough options, he made grabby hands for his phone, taking it back from Adaline.

“Help me decide which to tweet, Philly.” Dan pulled Phil in by his sleeve. Even though Phil could feel Adaline’s drunken watch on him, Phil let himself lean in ever-so-slightly to Dan. Not enough to warrant another kick in the shin from Adaline, but enough so he could smell Dan’s cologne better, enough so he could feel the warm heat radiating off of Dan’s body, enough so that he felt a little bit all consumed by Dan.

“I like that one,” Phil murmured near Dan’s ear when Dan swiped over one that was a good balance of silly and cute.

“Perfect,” Dan smiled, sharing it to a tweet. He gnawed at his lip for a moment before typing your fave lads are at it again, tagging Phil, and hitting tweet without taking any time to look it over.

***********************

Four hours and five (strong) drinks later, both Phil and Dan had surpassed tipsy and were properly drunk. Adaline, who’d showed up late and was a drink behind, had a bit more sense intact — but not by much.

“What do you think, lads, one last round?” Dan proposed.

Phil looked at Dan, his eyes struggling to focus clearly. “Okay,” he found himself agreeing anyway. Phil moved to push himself out of the booth.

“No, no, no, no. I think you’ve both had enough for tonight,” Adaline interrupted, catching the sleeve of Phil’s jumper and pulling him back down.

“But Adddieeeeee,” Dan whined.

“But Daaaannn,” Adaline whined back, teasing.

Dan raised his hand to the side of his head nearest Phil, only sort of successfully blocking Phil’s view of his face.

“Addie,” Dan whispered loudly, doing a piss-poor job of not letting Phil hear what he was saying. “I don’t wanna leave Phil yet, though.”

Phil’s heart melted. He didn’t particularly want to leave Dan either.

“Too bad,” Adaline mocked Dan, whispering back equally loudly and not even attempting to keep Phil from overhearing their conversation. “I didn’t drag my ass to London just for you to go home with him.”

Dan petulantly crossed his arms, huffing out an annoyed sigh, but didn’t fight her any further.

“And on that note,” Adaline giggled, “I think it’s bedtime, eh?”

“Probably for the best,” Phil agreed. As much as he adored getting to see this drunken version of Dan, as much as he definitely wanted Dan to come home with him, there was just enough left of Phil’s rational brain to know that tonight was not the night for that. Not tonight, not tomorrow night, maybe not even any night soon. Phil knew Dan needed time.

Time that Phil was willing to give him.

Adaline stood up, offering a hand to Phil. Phil gratefully accepted the help, letting her pull him to his feet. It had been a while since he’d stood up and — wow. The world rocked for a moment. Not having another round was the right decision.

Phil turned around to face Dan, who was staring helplessly up at him.

“Come on,” Phil said, grabbing Dan’s hand in his and tugging gently as Dan got up. The combined momentum sent Dan crashing into Phil, the two of them swaying precariously. In sync, their hands reached out to steady each other, Phil’s landing on Dan’s hips and Dan’s grasping Phil’s shoulders.

The rocking world faded away. All Phil could see was chocolate curls, and espresso eyes, and strawberry lips.

“Philip!” A voice behind him said sharply. Phil whirled around, knocking one of Dan’s hands from his shoulder. Adaline was stood close by, her hands on her hips and a reprimanding look on her face. “Behave!”

“Oops!” Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s hips, stepping backwards, his embarrassment practically radiating off of him.

“And to think, I’m the teenager,” Adaline mumbled.

“Sorry…” Phil apologized half-heartedly. His eyes drifted away from Dan, from Addie, and to the far corner of their booth, where the three of them had hung up their coats.

“Coats!” Phil exclaimed, smiling brightly at his own helpfulness.

Phil handed Adaline her coat before slipping his own on. He plucked Dan’s off the hook, spinning Dan around by the hips so his back was to Phil. Taking much more time and care than necessary, Phil helped Dan into his coat, slowly sliding each arm into the hole and slipping the jacket up his shoulders. When the jacket was on, Phil twisted Dan back to face him, and took Dan’s zipper between his hands.

The alcohol made Phil’s fingers clumsy and sluggish. It took three tries for Phil to successfully thread the zipper into the pull, his eyes focusing on Dan’s once it latched. Unwilling to let go of Dan just yet, Phil tugged the zipper up as slowly as he could, savoring every second of being close to Dan that he got.

Everytime Phil saw Dan, he could his stomach flipping over, his heart racing, his face threatening to break into a smile for no reason other than Dan’s presence. Tonight had been no exception, and now, holding Dan in place so closely to him, every single one of Phil’s feelings was amplified. He never wanted to move away.

But nonetheless, he had to eventually. Phil closed the zipper the final few centimeters, tugging slightly at Dan’s collar, just for something to do.

When Dan was tucked securely into his coat, Phil turned around to see Adaline watching them in amusement, shaking her head at their antics.

“Let’s get out of here, lads,” she said fondly.

“Phil needs an uber!” Dan exclaimed.

Oh yeah, Phil lived a lot further away than Dan did. Phil moved to fish his phone out of his coat pocket, but Dan already had his own in his hand, calling an uber for Phil.

“Here, Philly, put your address in,” Dan ordered, passing Phil his phone with unsteady fingers. Phil took the phone from Dan, taking four attempts to correctly type his address in the destination box. Two minutes, the app warned when he hit confirm.

“Thanks,” Phil handed back Dan’s phone, turning towards the exit. Dan’s hands came to rest on Phil’s lower back, pushing softly, guiding him towards the door. Adaline trailed behind them, following them outside.

Phil stopped by the curb to wait for his car. To his surprise, Dan stopped next to him — right next to him. Just a few small centimeters away.

“It’s cold,” Dan mumbled, maybe in explanation for why he was hovering so close to Phil.

“I know,” Phil agreed, wrapping his arm around Dan under the guise of providing warmth. And he did feel warmer. Maybe not physically, but there was an internal warmth washing over Phil that he’d never felt before. Phil grinned down at Dan, who’d tucked his head into the crook of Dan’s neck, and pulled him impossibly closer.

They stood like that until Phil’s car came. Phil half expected Adaline to interfere, to tell Phil to take a fucking step back, but when Phil glanced over Dan’s shoulder at her, she was smiling fondly at them.

When Phil’s car pulled up next to them, Dan drew back, but not quite all the way.

“I had a good night, Philly,” he whispered sweetly, eyes searching Phil’s face. Dan’s tongue darted out, licking his lips. Phil’s eyes followed the movement closely.

He should step back, he should give Dan the space that Adaline insisted that he needed.

But before Phil could make himself do it, before Phil could force a bit of space between them, Dan was leaning in slowly, swaying the slightest bit. Phil was rooted in his spot, unable to even move his head.

Dan closed the distance between them, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to Phil’s cheek. His lips lingered a moment, his hand finding Phil’s and squeezing briefly.

Phil squeezed back. It was the only way he could manage to show his appreciation for the moment. Dan pulled back, finally stepping all the way out of Phil’s embrace.

A hot blush spread over Phil’s face, and, not for the first time that night, Phil felt like a teenager with his first crush.

“Me too, Dan,” Phil smiled softly, climbing into the back of his uber, his hand coming up to touch his cheek as he felt the ghost of Dan’s lips on him.

Me too.

a/n: i can’t WAIT to hear y’alls thoughts xoxo

[zevlors-tail]

Hi sweater I kind of need some clarification help regarding comfort characters. I really don't want to start something bad so please disregard if this is bad topic. We're close in age and I also enjoy mha characters, but I'm starting to get a little nervous about being attacked for "aged up characters" even though I'm not even into smut writings really. Should I just make my space 18+ to keep myself safe? I just don't want someone angry with me for liking anime characters despite their ages

Hey there! I’m gonna put this under a read more so that I don’t clog up the dash, because I do have a few things to say about it. But rest assured that it’s not a touchy subject for me, I’ll speak my mind on it freely, and there’s nothing wrong with how you’re feeling. Also, no topic is a bad topic! Typically if something bothers me or if I don’t feel like I could handle a topic or situation, I would just say so. :) So no worries!

To jump right into it, I think it really depends on how you feel. And I know that might not sound very helpful, but that’s ultimately what it boils down to- especially if you’re not writing smut atm.

Personally, my blog is 18+ because I do write and reblog smut, but also because when I think about it, I really don’t want minors reading my normal stuff either. When I write for characters whether it’s smut or not, they’re always aged up for me. As a 24 y/o, I automatically go to a place in my mind where Deku is already a prohero, where Bakugou is a prohero, where they’re all either proheroes, or they’re in an AU that ages them up as well, because that’s what I can relate to and what I find attractive and fun. 

So to know that minors/people under 18 are reading my work and relating to it when I specifically write the characters aged up makes me uncomfortable, especially when it’s smut. And I can’t stop them from reading it if they so choose, and I understand that media can come across ten different ways to ten different people...so whereas I write them aged up, I may not have specified that in my work explicitly (often times I just use context clues to show they're over 18, like the fact that they can drink, or can drive, or are working for their own agency etc) , so there is a chance a minor could read it and just imagine themselves with the character who’s around their age and not mine.

But the bottom line for me is that I don’t want to be privy to the information that they’ve read my work or related to it (comfort fics mostly excluded because I write those for everyone and always stay away from writing smut in those so they can be accessible for everyone). I don’t want them to come into my ask box or follow my account, and that’s really why my blog has that 18+ rule attached to it. I don’t want minors talking to me about the things they want certain characters to do to them, about things they want to do to characters, because I am 24 years old, pay taxes, pay rent, and am a whole adult while these guys are not, and the age gap makes me wary and uncomfortable. That being said, I also have a SFW page to share SFW writing because I wanted to be inclusive. But even then I feel like I have to be careful, because I do have an impact on the minors who read my content and my posts.

But mostly these are just my personal feelings. Putting those aside...

I think making your blog 18+ can both hurt and help it. It helps because minors should know that space is clearly not for them, but it might also hurt the blog in the very same way. I noticed the first time I put up that warning in big red letters that said MDNI and other related things that I immediately had an influx of blank blogs and minors who purposefully followed me because of that very post. And I went through and blocked them, but it was annoying to do so because I was getting new followers every hour or so and that was a lot of blogs to block. So I guess what I’m trying to say here is be aware that this could happen when and if you do decide to make it an 18+ space.

Also, as far as nasty messages go, I’ve only ever gotten two asks related to this subject- one about what, exactly, MDNI and 18+ meant, and another from a self shipper that I just never answered bc it seemed weirdly worded and suspicious. I’ve never gotten any hate over it or mean/nasty messages, but I also don’t get a lot of interaction from my original followers and I’m really not that popular/big of a blog. I also don’t produce content on a regular basis anymore either, so that could be why. And I do want to point out that you could receive them either way- I’ve seen people attacked for aging up characters without an 18+ on their blog and with one as well. 

If anyone ever sends you nasty or even passive aggressive messages, my advice is to block them and move on, point blank. Unless you’re really good friends already, no one is worth your time and effort of explaining yourself or your comfort characters. You’re allowed to like them, allowed to express yourself how you want, allowed to feel comfort from them or attraction towards them or whatever it is you feel. They’re drawings. They’re meant to look attractive and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. If someone is angry with you or sending you hate over that, they’re probably out of touch with reality and have a few priorities mixed up. It’s one thing to get attached to your fav or enjoy the show/book/story, but it’s another thing completely to go out of your way and attack a person for something that doesn’t even affect you.

Alright, I’m rambling at this point, but you get the gist of it (I hope lol). There’s nothing wrong with aging up characters, there’s nothing wrong with liking your comfort characters, and there’s nothing wrong with writing for them. If you want to slap an 18+ on your blog if it makes you feel safer, then that’s alright too. And if not? That’s fine as well. <3

I hope this helps!

[mysteriouslyzealouspandalov-blog]

6 Red Flags You Should Not Ignore In The Beginning Of A Relationship Betches

New Post has been published on https://relationshipguideto.com/must-see/6-red-flags-you-should-not-ignore-in-the-beginning-of-a-relationship-betches/

6 Red Flags You Should Not Ignore In The Beginning Of A Relationship Betches

For whatever reason, fall has been decreed cuffing season.You scroll through your phone and you’re inundated with images images of apple picking dates, complete with the requisite cider donut and a ~casual~ candid featuring some autumnal plant and maybe bae looking cute in some flannel. Eventually it will snow, which conjures up images of drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching Netflix together in front of a cozy fire. Or something else equally sickeningly sweet. Idk. Anyway, even though it’s super tempting to want to dive into a relationship as it gets cold, you don’t want to date just anyone. Being single is better than dating the wrong person, and honestly you never want to sell yourself short. Like, whoever is reading this right now, you’re totally random and I legit have no clue who you are, but you deserve someone amazing!! Seriously. A little saccharine, but true. You could totally end up playing yourself if you ignore red flags, or signs your guy sucks, early on.

There are def some major red flags to look out for when you first meet your potential someone. I polled my sister and she claims the only red flags are:

He doesn’t play a sport

He wears jean/cargo shorts

He wears a beanie

He uses this emoji 😂

However, I’d consider all of these totally fixable problems (gentlemen, if you’re reading this, do throw out said clothing items and consider picking up lacrosse, though).

In all seriousness, there are some serious red flags that indicate your flirtation or hookup really shouldn’t lead to a relationship, even if it could be heading that way.

Is He Aggressively Pushy About Hooking Up?

There’s nothing worse than just wanting to grab dinner and having to ward off a handsy guy, or worse: being with a guy that doesn’t seem to get that NO means freaking no. Like, nope, sorry, the mood hasn’t changed in the past two minutes since you asked me, BRETT. Again. Ew, ew, ew, moving on.

Does He Overuse Social Media?

Yes, we live in a time where Snapchat and swiping apps seem to drive modern relationships. However, if you’re talking a lot over an app whose genesis came from a need to facilitate easy hookups and/or sending nudes, you should be concerned.

The worst, the very worst, red flag is if he talks to you all the time via social media but ignores you in person. That’s weird. Imagine what it would be like to go on dates with him. Would you carry your entire conversation via Instagram DMs over dinner too? Would you make plans for the aforementioned apple picking date via Snapchat because nothing is ever going to be concrete or, like, traceable? At the very least, you can keep up with all his happenings because he’ll still be updating his story 24/7, even if he’s never talking to you besides to maintain your #streak. Oh, and to hit you up with a “u up?” snap at 1am when he’s drunk and alone.

Seriously, don’t keep hooking up with him. He’s either insecure, not interested, or seeing multiple girls at once because talking to people solely over an app that doesn’t save past messages is sketchy af . Seriously, run in the opposite direction. Runnnnnnn.

Will He Not Let Go Of His Exes?

Maybe you figure that once you start dating, he’ll stop hooking up with his ex-girlfriends. And hey, maybe he will!! Maybe you’ll also win the lottery and star in your own reality TV show. I mean, it could totes happen!1!1

Seriously, if he still hooks up with old girlfriends, especially old girlfriends that were super into him and are obviously still super into him, then steer clear. One, it’s kind of an asshole move to keep hooking up with a girl that’s crazy into you when you’re not into them. Secondly, there’s no way of knowing he won’t do the same to you one day. Even if he claims he never hooks up with his exes but hangs out with them, keep your head on a swivel because that’s a red flag—a smaller red flag, but a flag nonetheless.

Is He Weirdly And Hypocritically Judgmental?

I’m not saying you shouldn’t date someone with different opinions than you. Debate is healthy and mind-opening. But I’ve met guys before that are like “don’t wear that it’s not even a shirt, it’s a bra blah blah blah I’m a conservative white dude…” when they’re freaking only wearing, like, boxers or something because it’s a stupid themed party. I’m sorry it’s heaven and hell themed and so all the girls are dressing up as lust. Like, I’m not going wear a nun costume? And it’s literally so annoying to have a guy gripe about drinking when he likes to disappear in the bathroom to do some lines. Like, please spare me the double standard.

Does He Like To Hook Up In Weird Places?

And I mean weird, like really disturbingly unsanitary. If his history with his exes/past girls includes hooking up in weird, illegal, and/or unsanitary places, then kick him to the curb unless you dig getting some weird disease and/or arrested. Last time I checked, a dumpster isn’t for hooking up in. Though maybe if he’s total trash… Seriously though, I’ve heard some pretty disturbing stories and I’d really like to believe that they aren’t true.

Do You Just Not Like Him?

This seems stupid and really obvious, but sometimes I watch people head into relationships where they literally don’t even like the guy and I just sort of wonder…why? Is being single seriously worse than being forced to spend time with someone that kind of bugs you? Ladies, it’s seriously not worth the cute Instagrams.

If none of the above applies, then I wish you everlasting happiness!!! Good luck trying to break up in the spring when you want to be single for summer!!

Image: Toa Heftiba / Unsplash

Read more: https://www.betches.com

[carasueachterberg]

Flannery is such an interesting dog.

The puppies are cute and Hula Hoop is a sweetheart, but Flannery is complicated and funny and just so not-your-average-dog. I adore her. Even though she is nothing like any dog I’ve ever wanted.

She’s little. Only 30 pounds.

photo: Nancy Slattery

She’s a busy-body – always in the middle of whatever is happening and worming her way onto the couch or dog bed, even if there is clearly no room for her.

She is the first dog up at the slightest noise. And weirdly, if I stare at her while she’s sleeping (or hold a camera up to take a picture), she will wake up and stare back—it’s like she senses me.

Flannery is a clever, clever, clever, but not necessarily an obedient dog, unless it works in her best interest (there’s a treat to be had, a door she wants opened, a dinner served). I admire this in her – she’s scrappy. She can definitely take care of herself.

photo by Nancy Slattery

Flannery is a love. She is always ready with a smile and a wag and makes certain I go nowhere alone in the house, whether that be to the bathroom or the basement (she’s one of only 3 dogs who has ever ventured down into our ‘cellar’ – Frankie and Gracie refuse to go down there – what do they know?).

But Flannery is also complicated, a conundrum. She earned her bite addendum.

photo by Nancy Slattery

It’s not that she would ever attack someone. In fact, lately, I’ve told visitors to not touch her. This works fine; they ignore her friendly greeting (mostly) and she doesn’t bite anyone.

The nipping that I’ve witnessed has happened while she is enthusiastically greeting someone (almost always women) and they’ve reached down to pet her head. She hasn’t truly hurt anyone, so I assume the nipping is a warning. It’s a ‘don’t touch my head’ message. Which is weird because I can scratch her head all day long; I can pull her ears and hold her nose and rub her chin and….nothing. Just a nudge for more.

So, I don’t know what the initial nips are about. When we fostered her previously, I only saw that kind of nipping when she was tired and someone vigorously rubbed her belly. It seemed to be a signal that she’d had enough. It wasn’t mean, but it was clear what she meant.

As I said, the dog is smart. Apparently, she is happy to have you rub her belly, but only for so long and then she tells you to stop in the one way that has worked for her. I’m guessing it’s the same with patting her head. Until she really knows you, she would rather you didn’t pat her head. The training books I’ve read say that dogs don’t really like to have their heads patted. It’s a sign of dominance. They’d much prefer, you pet their sides.

So maybe, it’s not that Flannery is a biter, it’s that she’s just an effective communicator. Like I’ve said to many visitors who worry when they see my alpha mare, Cocoa wave a hoof at another horse—“If she wanted to kick the other horse, she would have. She’s just sending a message.”

If Flannery wanted to really bite anyone whose hand she’s nibbled, she would have. Because this little dog knows how to speak for herself. Most bites are simply that—messages. Of frustration, fear, defense, but I don’t believe actual aggression.

Flannery needs people to respect her boundaries and apparently one of those boundaries is not patting her head if you’ve not been approved. Last week and this week, I’ve participated in the K9&Kds program. It’s a free educational program for kids that OPH volunteers present at libraries, camps, schools, scout troops, or pretty much anywhere there are gatherings of children. We teach kids how to safely interact with dogs, read a story, make a dog toy, and practice petting live dogs.

I’ve learned a lot, being a part of K9&Kds. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t look a dog in the eye and that they are less frightened if you turn your side to them, rather than face them head on. I’ve learned that baseball hats, glasses, and hoodies can be scary to dogs. I’ve been around dogs all my life and hadn’t realized any of that.

Many of the dogs who are turned in to shelters (or returned to rescues) are abandoned because they have bitten someone. Living with Flannery makes me wonder if the bite that earned her a return had more to do with miscommunication than aggression. Dogs are not people, so we don’t naturally know how to communicate with them. We have to learn.

photo by Nancy Slattery

My daughter just returned from a trip to Hong Kong and Myanmar. She had to figure out the customs and unspoken rules of both (very different) cultures. Some of the things she saw were confusing and strange and the people didn’t always act the way she was accustomed to.

For instance, in the crowded streets and airports, pushing and shoving is normal. If she had reacted by punching someone or screaming at the top of her lungs, there would be cause to call the police. And the police would have no idea why she screamed or punched a person.

Consider the same scenario, only Flannery is Addie, thrust into a new culture where she doesn’t speak the language or understand the expectations. So when she is shoved, instead of ignoring it because she knows it doesn’t mean anything threatening, she protects herself, she bites. The police (OPH) are called and she is removed from the home, but no one knows why she bit. They are not dogs, so they can only guess.

Maybe this is more common than not, especially when a dog is introduced to a busy home after a life on the streets or in a shelter. They don’t understand us, so we need to be very careful and deliberate and take the time to learn their language and show them our expectations for their behavior in this new world.

Just a thought.

Like I said, I love my Flannery girl. Like any good dog, she is teaching me a lot!

Photo: Nancy Slattery

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com or subscribe to my monthly e-newsletter (which is rarely monthly, but I’m working at it…everybody needs a goal).

If you’d like to know more about the book, Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs, check AnotherGoodDog.org, where you can find more pictures of the dogs from the book (and some of their happily-ever-after stories), information on fostering, the schedule of signings, and what you can do right now to help shelter animals! You can also purchase a signed copy or several other items whose profits benefit shelter dogs!

If you’d like to know how you can volunteer, foster, adopt or donate with OPH, click here. And if you’d like more pictures and videos of my foster dogs past and present, be sure to join the Another Good Dog Facebook group.

I love hearing from readers, so please feel free to comment here on the blog, email carasueachterberg@gmail.com or connect with me on Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.

 Best,

 Cara

Released August 2018 from Pegasus Books and available now

    Everything is different from a dog's perspective. #dogsthatbite #misunderstood #nobodysperfect Flannery is such an interesting dog. The puppies are cute and Hula Hoop is a sweetheart, but Flannery is complicated and funny and just so not-your-average-dog.