#poppy wants to do the same for guy but he always pivots the conversation into how fabulous they can make him look for the day instead

[popppyfur]

poppy n guy diamond feel like kids w divorced/single parents to me(they're not sure which). They bond over it w guy helping poppy figure out if her dad is actually divorced, gay divorced or is a single father by spinning a wheel. Then they bake peppy a cake w frosting written like 'sOrry 4 yOure loss. i lovE yOu :)' depending on what the wheel tells them

[megaphonemonday]

mike driving ginny home after a night of partying & their obvious connection becomes too much for them

all right, go with me on this one. it’s a little weird, but i kinda like it. It’s more of a movie montage than anything? Listen to this while you read if you like! 

a wordless, unspoken poem | ao3

Mike Lawson leans back against the bar, a bottle of beer that had ceased to sweat nearly twenty minutes ago in one of his hands. His eyes scan the crowd, not in interest, but seeking out someone specific. 

He finds her and one corner of his mouth tilts up. Not quite a smile, but certainly a hint of fondness.

Across the crowded room, Ginny Baker looks up from the conversation she’s having with Sonny and Blip, like she’s aware of the attention on her. His attention, specifically. None of the many stares pointed her way seem to affect her the way his does. Her eyes catch on Mike’s and that same tilt takes over her lips. 

Mike quirks a brow and Ginny’s head ducks. She glances up and Mike shrugs. A smile, a real one, brighter than the neon signage decorating the walls, breaks across her face and Mike’s eyes roll. She shakes her head, finally catching the attention of the two men closest to her. They take one look at where her attention is, though, and there’s another round of head shaking. 

Not that either Mike or Ginny notice.

Instead, Mike tilts his head to the front of the bar, the door, with a raised brow. Ginny nods, ignoring both Blip and Sonny as they trade rueful grins, and throws some cash on their table before winding her way to Mike. She weaves through the crowd, as light on her feet as ever, but can’t help but brush against a few people as she goes. It’s crowded tonight, and not just because word got out that Ginny Baker is in attendance. 

One of those people recognizes her and Mike watches as she pauses to take a selfie, leaving the guy star struck long after she continues on her way. When she finally gets to Mike, the look on her face dares him to make a comment. He just holds up his hands, palms out. He jerks his head to the door again and she nods. 

Together, they make their way out to his car. 

Mike slides into the driver’s seat of the low-slung sports car and though it should seem like a study in contrasts, he looks incredibly at home behind the wheel. Ginny folds her long legs into the passenger’s side, shaking her head. She doesn’t have to say anything for Mike to know what she’s thinking. They’ve had the conversation often enough. Still, her fingers trace over the hand-stitched leather of the seat appreciatively. 

He has to tear his eyes away, gunning the engine before pulling out of the spot. 

Ginny’s restless fingers move on from the line of stitches. They dance just over where Mike’s hands rest on the gear shift and land on the radio. 

Music, something poppy and overplayed, fills the intimate space, lit up only by the blue glow of the dashboard controls and intermittent slashes of gold: passing streetlights.

Before he even has time to sneer, Ginny’s changing the station, tossing him a knowing look. She’s lit up for a brief moment by oncoming headlights, dimples cast in deep shadow. Mike settles back in his seat as she flicks through the options, the buzz of static punctuated by bursts of song or speech. Her nose crinkles more and more the further she goes until she finally gives in and turns it off. 

The car descends back into quiet, only broken by a steady tick tick tick when Mike changes lanes. 

Ginny closes her eyes, far too comfortable in the low bucket seat. She props her feet up on the dash and though Mike’s eyes follow the movement, he doesn’t protest. Instead, he focuses back on the road, attention caught by a familiar sign. 

Without asking, he turns in. 

Ginny’s eyes open as she feels her body lean with the turn, and she lights up at the sight of an In-N-Out. Tired as she is after a long night and longer day, she’s not going to turn down a midnight snack. 

Pivoting in her seat, she offers Mike a big grin. He rolls his eyes, like her enthusiasm is too much, but a grin of his own lurks beneath the beard. 

He pulls into a parking spot and kills the engine. Ginny doesn’t complain that he won’t let her eat in the car, though she does pout, just a little. Still, she climbs out and falls into step with her captain, his arm fitting easily over her shoulders. Her own wraps around his back as they head for the walk-up window. 

In minutes, what they get for showing up for burgers at nearly midnight—no wait—they have their food, a truly impressive array for two people. 

Ginny leads the way to one of the picnic tables set up nearby, leaving Mike to balance the boxes of food and drinks. Rather than sit like the fully grown adult she is, she climbs up and seats herself on the table itself, feet planted on the bench. Mike follows suit with a long suffering sigh and a rueful shake of his head, setting the food in the space between them. It’s all for show, though, his grin breaking free as he watches Ginny dig in.

There’s no use talking to Ginny when she’s eating, and Mike doesn’t even try. Instead, he sneaks glances at her from the corner of his eyes. Each glance lingers longer and longer until he’s just staring, unabashed. 

When she finally notices, she doesn’t blush or duck away. Her head tilts to the side and she turns to him. Their knees knock together and two sets of eyes fly down to the point of contact. Slowly, both of their gazes trail back over the other, Ginny taking in Mike’s solid thigh and how soft his flannel looks, Mike noticing the way the hair on Ginny’s arms stand on end and her fingers tighten on what’s left of her Double-Double. Finally, their eyes lock together again. 

Some kind of understanding must pass between them because while they both look away, neither is disappointed. If anything, there’s an air of anticipation condensing around them. 

They go back to eating.

Neither moves their knee. 

Not until they’re both done and Mike clambers down, crumpling up wrappers and collecting napkins to throw away. When he turns back to Ginny, he stops in his tracks. 

She’s got her arms braced behind her, face tipped up to the sky. A few curls flutter across her forehead in the light breeze. Even in the harsh light of the In-N-Out parking lot, she’s so clearly beautiful. She’s always beautiful, there are enough pictures of her in the middle of games to prove that, but there’s something about tonight that hits Mike right between the eyes. 

After a moment, Ginny comes back to herself. Her chin tips back down and she catches Mike standing a few feet away. 

She smiles and beauty becomes radiance. 

She reaches her hand out and in a heartbeat, Mike’s crossed the distance to take it. He hands her down and for a moment they just stand, fingers twined together. Eventually, though, Ginny tugs and they head back to the car. 

When Mike pulls back onto the road, Ginny doesn’t bother to turn the radio on again. The quiet is comfortable, anyway. She doesn’t want to leave it. 

Mike seems to sense that, pointing the car away from either of their places, heading for the coast. 

He drives north, for all it’s not as good a view from the passenger’s side. If it keeps Ginny’s face tilted towards him, to take in the vast, glittering expanse of the Pacific, that’s not why Mike smiles as they drive. 

They pass by a road sign and while neither of them mention it or point it out, both know what they’ll do. 

In no time, Mike’s car is pulling into another parking lot, this one lit up only by the waning moon and paved in gravel. 

Still, Ginny throws herself out of the car with even more enthusiasm than In-N-Out had earned. She rounds the front of the hood, already reaching for Mike’s hand again. Willingly, he gives it to her, and they trudge down the narrow path that will lead them to their goal. Dense shrubs gather close, like they guard some well kept secret. 

And not a public beach. 

When they finally break back into the free air, Mike makes sure to turn and watch Ginny’s face as she lays her eyes on the ocean up close for the first time of the evening. Clearly, he’s seen the look before, but the way he grins, rapt, says that it’s just as delightful now as it’s ever been. When Ginny turns back to him, she grins, too. 

And dashes for the shoreline, Mike’s hand still held tight in hers. 

He stumbles a little after her, his heavy boots sinking into the stand. She’s so eager, though, he presses on, unwilling to be the thing to hold her back.

They stop just beyond the high tide mark, somehow managing to kick off shoes and roll up pant legs with their fingers tangled together. 

Together, they run into the waves. 

They both inhale hard at the shock of cold water, though it only swirls midway up their calves. 

There’s a long moment where Ginny and Mike size each other up from the corners of their eyes, lips twitching, clearly considering the possibility of starting some kind of splash war. But the night is so calm, so quiet. It would be a shame to break that, even with their joy. Instead, they wade through the ebb and flow, making their way down the beach, fingers still twined together. 

(There are many kinds of joy.)

Soon, she’s shivering. 

Mike reels her in, wrapping his arms around her, hands chafing her arms to get the blood flowing again. She slips her arms into the open front of his flannel, tucking them around his waist, between his skin-warm t-shirt and the soft plaid. Her head falls against his chest and Mike props his chin against the springy cushion of her hair. 

Cool water still rushes against their ankles, their feet being sucked deeper into the wet sand. Neither of them move, though, too wrapped up in one another.

Ginny nuzzles her cheek against his chest before pulling away. Just far enough that she can look up and trace Mike’s features in the weak light of the moon. He returns the favor, studying her dear, familiar face. 

Her throat bobs in a gulp and Mike returns his gaze to hers. 

He must find something he likes because he leans in, just a bit. Enough to make his intention clear, but keeping enough distance to ensure the choice is hers. 

She makes it.

Her face tilts up to him and she connects their lips in a kiss. 

A first kiss. 

Tender and a little off-center, but as sure as they ever are. 

One of his hands comes up to cradle her cheek and she sighs, leaning into his palm as her lips drop open. Under his flannel, her fist curls into the fabric between his shoulder blades, a hardly visible lump to anyone watching. For a long moment, their tongues tangle, easy and eager at the same time. 

When they pull apart, entirely unsated, but needing to breathe, Mike’s forehead leans heavily against Ginny’s. Like neither can bear the thought of moving further away. His nose bumps against hers and she returns the nuzzle. 

With a deep breath, Ginny looses her hold on Mike’s shirt. She smooths the fabric against his back, her hands trailing against his spine before she finally lets him go. 

Shakily, Mike exhales. His thumb caresses the arch of her cheekbone, one long sweep. He readies himself to step away. Step back. 

But Ginny surprises him. She turns into his palm, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the center. Her hand comes up to pull it away from her face, but she doesn’t drop it. Instead, palms together, she laces her fingers between his.

Last, she tips her face up to him, smiling.

“Take me home, Mike.”