#s action. which. okay. might be a reason to dread tomorrow also.

[unopenablebox]

for some reason i keep thinking of tomorrow as being miserably packed with stuff even though what i have scheduled is actually "morning union meeting, scheduled for two hours and will run to three as always"—which is, admittedly, wretched— followed by a break of two hours and then

"two hour sewing class i signed up for myself, want to take, is only a ten minute walk from my home, and requires no prep whatsoever"

however this is the first time in many months that any post-union-meeting scheduled saturday afternoon activity has been anything other than work and i think i'm unable to actually believe that having literally anything planned on a saturday is not foreshadowing a long slog to work interspersed with guilt

[batboys-and-other-messes]

Elevator (Tim Drake X Fem!Reader)

Requested: NO A/N:  This was supposed to be short and sweet and then I lost control …. I had a conversation with @sassyshoulderangel319 (I can already type that url out by heart) about this post and which one I would choose and then somehow this formed in my heart and jesus, it was such a good idea. I put it under a Read More because it's ridiculously long and seriously… But I hope you guys like it!! Word count: 6256 (YES You read correctly. I lost control) Warning(s):  Claustrophobia Tagged: @icequeen206 @crescent-bluemoon @nanna-the-batmum @xoleaox @sleep-depiravation [You wanna be tagged in my next piece? Just shoot me a message or ask!]

Your feet dragged across the floor as you walked towards the elevator. 

Today was one of these days again. The kind that never ended and just seemed to drag on to eternity.

Your Head was pounding, your eyes were tired and your legs felt like someone had filled them with metal and put a magnet underneath the whole floor.

The building was already empty, which wasn’t a surprise at that time. It was already well past midnight and even the cleaning staff had been there and left again. You were alone, walking down the hallway.

Well, technically ‘alone’ except the one old guy who was lying there on his desk. You weren’t even sure if he was still alive but from what you heard through the gossip of the others, he just went through a nasty divorce and practically lived at his desk.

Poor Robert.

Well, at least he had a desk.

You knew you shouldn’t complain. You got a summer job at Wayne Enterprises. It was an opportunity some of your classmates would kill for, but there was always a catch with these kinds of things. What you didn’t expect when you signed all these confidentiality agreements was that your supervisor would be a lazy asshole that made you do all kinds of things you shouldn’t have to do.

But you had no say in the matter. Absolutely none.

So you sucked it up and got shit done.

And now that you had carried all these binders to the upper floor it was time to go down, get a taxi and sleep through tomorrow, your day off.

Almost lifelessly you pressed the elevator button, feeling like your finger might break from that little action.

Even the buttons up here were posh. The only thing missing was diamond-encrusting them. Maybe the Top floor had butlers that pushed the buttons for them?

You smiled at your own stupid joke, glad that nobody saw you. The doors opened and you stepped in. You pressed the last button and took out your phone. You haven’t had time to glance even once at it and were surprised to find 9 missed calls and about three dozen different messaged on it.

You were popular?

You expression fell when you saw that all of them were from your best friend.

The elevator moved but instead of going down it started to rise and you groaned internally. Someone from the higher-ups was still in the building, at this time?

You focused back on your phone. You phone signaled that it was very low on battery but you just clicked it away before you opened the newest messages and started to read them.

BITCH did you die or did you forget how to use your damn phone?? ANSWER ME Or do you think you are better than me now that you have a JOB and a PURPOSE in life? smh Hello??? You need to humble yourself Anyways, I have good news I’m gonna assume you asked ‘Oh Jenny, what good news?’   I found your lonely ass a boyfriend. I know, I know, thank me later Or thank me now Well, its actually gonna be a double date And I kinda already promised you’ll come I swear he’s cute Kinda Mine is They are brothers But he also has a sister, if you’re not in the mood for a guy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your gay tendencies towards batgirl ANYWAYS Sorry to break your coming out? Or is it rather a Passing BI? haha Yeah okay, that was a bad one That’s what you get for ignoring me Bitch

You closed your eyes as you heard the elevator ding, and the doors open. You were too tired for this shit. Way too tired for any of this.

Also, who wasn’t gay for Batgirl?

That was normal, right?

You started typing out your reply, too focused not to use too many curses and to keep her family out of it, to even notice the stranger that entered.

A moment passed and suddenly everything happened at once. You hit send, then the elevator shook, it stopped with a BANG, your phone died and the lights went out.

It all happened in the blink of an eye and for a moment you thought you had died.

And suddenly, your realized your situation.

‘I am stuck in an elevator’, was the only thing you could think of.

The person next to you sighed deeply and you let out a scream and jumped to the nearest wall.

‘WE are stuck in an elevator’

Fuck.

You took in a shaky breath as you felt cold and hot at the same time. Your sleepiness was gone, being replaced by a thousand pictures of crashing elevators and that one weird X-Factor Episode where (supposedly) death himself was in one and you only heard the screams of these people and you really didn’t want to die in an elevator with a stranger. You had so many things you still wanted to do! Hell, you haven’t even paid your student loan yet! 

Though this thought calmed you a little bit.

Fuck capitalism.

“Hey” A male voice spoke up somewhere from the left. “Are you okay?” he asked and you gulped.

Okay, (Y/N), don’t show him that you’re having a panic attack.

“No.” you answered truthfully.

Yeah okay, that didn’t go as planned.

Maybe it was the adrenalin or the utter terror in your bones,  but you weren’t really able to lie right now.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll just have to find the emergency-button.” He said and he sounded young. Something about his voice and the way he said it made you feel calmer but the fact that you were locked in here with a stranger unnerved you.

You nodded, realizing that he couldn’t see you, you added a quick “Okay.”

You moved towards where you remembered the buttons to be and suddenly you felt a hand and you yelped.

His hands were cold.

“Oh sorry.” He apologized and you heard him press a button, once.

You two waited and he pressed it again.

After pressing it about fifteen times nothing happened.

The darkness was getting to you and your hands started to sweat as you cursed yourself for not taking the elevator with the glass walls and the freaking panorama view. At least the moon would’ve provided some light but no, you were lazy and took the first one you saw.

“Weird.” The guy said and you didn’t answer. But it seemed like he was more talking to himself. “Usually the emergency generator should’ve turned on by now. And if that one failed the backup should’ve been enough to at least power the elevators.”

Maybe he was just thinking out loud but every single word filled you with a deeper sense of dread. 

Was it common knowledge how many emergency-generators this damn building had? What did this mean? Where you going to die in here?

You heard some rustling and then a sigh.

“My phones dead.” He said and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out if he was talking to you or if he just really enjoyed his own voice.

Either way, every statement that left his mouth wasn’t good.

“I guess we have to wait.” He said and you nodded again which, of course, he couldn’t see.

“Okay” you managed to say meekly.

A silence settled between the two of you and it wasn’t one of the good kind. It was rather the “My crush just saw me scratch my ass and pick my nose while farting” kind of silence that made one want to fling oneself out of the nearest window and into certain death.

It was very awkward silence.

You heard the guy clear his throat. “Uhm… Hello.”

Oh shit, he wanted to converse.

You started to hyperventilate for the fifth time in the span of a second before you almost slapped yourself.

Get your shit together, (Y/N). It’s a conversation. You can do this. Remember? You had plenty of conversations in your life!

But how should you answer? ‘Hello’ would sound too stiff. ‘Hi’ would sound like you were best friends and you didn’t even know this guy. But going back to Hello would signal to him that you wanted to talk which you actually didn’t. Meaning you wanted to have a conversation with him because it seemed to calm you down but you didn't want to be trapped in the social construct of a conversation and then accidentally make it really awkward and end up trapped in a long awkward silence knowing that he would judge you for the whole time you two were trapped in there. You really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone who might be the last person to see you alive.

“Okay, I guess you don’t want to talk.” He said slowly and he sounded so unnervingly calm.

“Yes. I mean No. I mean No I- I mean I don’t want to talk. I mean I don't want not to talk- Ugh. I WANT to talk but I tried to negate it twice and it came out sounding like I didn’t want to talk when in fact I do.” You said and you mentally slapped yourself for that.

Great thinking, (Y/N). No more freestyle-conversation for you until you learn how to act like a person, you moron.

Suddenly you heard him chuckle at that before he started to laugh as quietly as he could. It seemed very sincere and gave you the more reason to slam your head against the wall. But you didn’t.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” he said and you wondered if he was lying.

“What’s your name?” he asked and you blurted out “Nineteen.”

A second passed.

“Your name is Nineteen?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“No. I-I am nineteen years old. My name is (Y/N). I don’t know why but I thought you asked for my age because everyone here asks for my age first since this is actually just a summer job, you know and yeah.” you said. 

You didn’t know why you were still alive right now.

“Oh, cool. You got a summer job here?” He continued as if he still thought you were a sane person and you were very grateful for that.

“Y-Yeah. There was this representative at my college and I won the contest for a ‘summer job’. Depending on how I do, I might even get a permanent job offer for when I’m done with college.” You said. 

Your feet were hurting you and as if he could hear your thoughts you heard him sit down on the dirty elevator-floor before you could even ask yourself if it was okay for you to do so.

“Oh yeah, I heard of that. Congratulations, by the way.” His voice came from his sitting position. There was a smile in his voice and a sincerity you haven’t heard in a long time from someone else.

“Thank you.” You said, mimicking him and sitting down too. Your foot bumped against his when you tried to stretch your legs so you immediately pulled them back and just crossed your legs.

“What’s your name?” you asked, seemingly way calmer than before.

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“Tim.” He said and you silently nodded.

“Hi, Tim.” You said and he let out a short chuckle.

“Hi (Y/N).”

“Do you think we are going to die here?” you asked.

“Okay, that escalated quickly.” He mumbled more to himself before you heard him continue.

“No. This building is very safe. The only thing worrying me is why our phones didn’t work. Mine is always charged and the backup generators should work anyways unless someone turned them off on purpose.”

You knew his words were supposed to be aimed at you but somewhere in the middle of it, he seemed to be talking to himself again. You still continued to listen.

“Well, my phone was low on battery anyway.” You said and he stopped at that for a moment.

“Mine was fully charged.” He said.

A pause.

“When did it turn off?” he asked and something in his voice made you answer it immediately.

“The same second the lights went out.” you said and even you realized how weird that sounded. There was still a little bit of battery left, a text message couldn’t possibly drain that much energy at once.

He was quiet for some time.

“What... does that mean?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know yet, but it's not a good sign.” He said before he quickly added. “I still think we are safe here. Its probably a robbery of some kind and the energy will be back as soon as they are done.” He assured you and you didn’t believe a word he said.

“Bullshit.” You said forcefully in his direction.

“If what you just implied was true and someone messed with the energy enough to turn both our phones off at the top of the building then that’s definitely not a normal robbery. It's probably something bigger. Like super-villain big. So stop lying to me.”

You let your words hang in the air between the two of you and you just wished you could see his expression right now.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said after a while and you were surprised that he didn’t try to lie his way out of this.

“I didn’t want to worry you because you already seemed pretty freaked out.” He explained and you could understand that.

“Fair point.” You said and you both fell into your own thoughts again as the silence started.

“Hey, Tim?” You spoke after a while, which felt like an eternity. “Is Tim short for something? Like Timothy? Or Timotheus? Or is it just Tim?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask why you would voice such a stupid question.

“Timothy.” He said and you could swear could hear him laugh but he didn’t make a sound. “But I prefer Tim.”

“Oh, so Timothy, like the Wayne one.” You said. “Or was it Drake-Wayne? Was it just Drake? Like the rapper? Shoot, Maybe I should know this since I'm working here. I hope they don’t quiz me on this or else it would really be embarrassing. I don’t even know how many children Mr. Wayne has. Is there like a chart or something?? They don’t quiz the employees here, do they?” you talked yourself into panic again.

“No. They definitely don’t.” he stated calmly and you were sure he was making fun of you.

“I mean they shouldn’t… It’s a weird thing to ask someone. And if someone does, just shoot a random number and make something up. That's what I like to do, anyway.” He said and you nodded, making a mental note of that.

“Right.” You said.

“You get anxious really easily.” Tim broke the silence absentmindedly.

“Yeah, It’s the Anxiety.” You shot back and it made him laugh again.

“Yeah, I figured. It was like my second guess.” He said and you smiled.

“Second? What was your first guess then?”

“The first was that you’re secretly the criminal responsible for this. Maybe your escape plan had failed and now that you’re trapped here with a civilian your cover is about to be blown.” 

You would lie if you said you wouldn’t like to hear the rest of this story.

“Wow.” You said. “That’s… very specific…. Su- Suspiciously specific.” You said, letting that sink in.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this, Timothy?” Was that even his real name?

“No.” The pause before he spoke was way too long for your comfort.

Way too long.

“And please call me Tim.”

“I’m curious now. Was there like… a third theory you had?” you licked your dry lips in nervousness.

“Yeah. That you’re nervous because of me.”

“Well, I certainly am now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. You could be a murderer for all I know. I mean you are so calm while we're stuck here, that kinda screams psychopath. And your name is Timothy. I dunno, there are a lot of red flags here.” You rambled on, not even sure yourself if you’re joking or not. But you mostly were.

“Hey, whats wrong with Timo-“

Suddenly you felt the elevator drop an inch and you almost pissed yourself.

Then the lights flickered and there was suddenly light illuminating the elevator.

“Oh, the lights are back on.” He said, looking up before he stood up again, pressing the emergency button. There was a voice that came from the speakers above and you registered him saying something but you didn’t really catch what he was saying as you just kept staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

It was him.

Timothy Drake-Wayne.

FUCK.

It was him all along.

What the fuck did you say to him?

You were sure you insulted him at least three times in the span of this conversation and he didn’t even say a word! And looking at him now he sure looked a lot more handsome than he did in the papers and he was your boss in some kind of way, no, he was the boss of your bosses boss and you just called him a murderer and you would probably be kicked out the next thing right now and you wouldn’t even mind because why the fuck did you have to run your mouth like this?!?

“This might take a while. So, where were we?” he asked, letting himself slide down before glancing at you again.

“Right. I was possibly a psychopath.”

“I am so so so sorry.” Your face exploded in all shades of red as you pressed your lips together, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“What for?” he chuckled with a lopsided smile. “I mean the name thing was kinda rude and I honestly want to know whats wrong with my name but you were just being honest.” He shrugged and you kind of wished the elevator would plunge to you to death. “Not many people here tell me that to my face.”

“Yeah, but it was only because I couldn’t see your face!”

“Why? Whats wrong with my face now?”

“Nothing! Its ridiculously stunning and it belongs to the guy owning this damn elevator.” You almost cursed.

“Bruce Wayne owns it.” He corrected you and he seemed surprised by your choice of words. “... and thanks?”

“You’re his son.” You retorted.

“Adoptive son.”

“Same thing.”

At that he paused, looking at the corner of the elevator. “No. Not according to some people.”

You stopped mid-thought.

“Oh.” You said, not knowing what else to say. 

But you had already shot yourself in the leg once, so why not reload?

“But why should it matter what other people think? It’s not their decision to make how you feel towards someone. Or what your relationship with them is.” You looked at your hands, fumbling with your fingers as you felt his eyes on you.

“Sometimes… biological parents… aren’t good.” you added.

Your heart was beating and you knew he was watching you but he didn’t say a word. He just listened to you, waiting for you to speak out what you were thinking. What you were implying.

You weren’t sure if you could.

“Are yours?” he asked and it felt like a little nudge. Soft but present. Like a calm hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to make the step.

What was it with him? How could he make you feel so calm with just his voice? With just his presence?  With this look in his eyes that you didn’t even have to see.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m eighteen..” You said. “It shouldn’t matter”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” he said. His knees were up and his arms rested on them, crossed. He didn’t look like the co-owner of a company. He just looked like a guy with a lot on his mind. And lusciously messy hair. “But it does.”

Suddenly you heard a sound and both of you looked at your phones.

“My phone is on again... And its fully charged?” you said in confusion before he confirmed that his was too.

You both started to type away as you opened your friend's Messages.

Did you die again? HELLOOOOOOO?? You can’t insult my eyebrows and then JUST LEAVE ?!?!? What the fuck is wrong with you?? You know how insecure I am about this

There was a string of other nonsensical messages but you decided to reply immediately before the power went out again.

Stuck in an elevator. Power and phone went off. Just turned on again Still stuck And your eyebrows are shit

You smiled as you saw the bubble pop up, indicating that she was typing.

OKAY, FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? Second of all Are you okay? Did you call for help? Are you alone? Should I call and keep you company?

You quickly glanced over at Tim, as he seemed to be texting someone too, a slight frown on his face before you looked back at your phone.

Nope, not alone

A pause.

And who’s there with you??

You typed.

Theres a guy with me

Old or cute?

Second  And why are these the only two options?

You only realized how true this was when you typed it out. You were definitely attracted to him. Of course, you couldn’t fall for a cute barista or someone else. No, It had to be untouchable people like Batgirl and Bruce Wayne’s freaking son.

At least you weren’t aiming low.

What kind of cute?

Tim Drake

Since when is that a measurement in your book? I mean I won’t complain. He’s cute?

No It’s him.

???

The guy. In the Elevator. With me. Is him.

There was a long pause in which she didn’t even type and you were afraid that she had placed her phone down before you saw the bubble pop up.

Use protection.

You closed your eyes in resignation.

I’m going to slap you

Well, whats the problem?

I insulted him... I think?

Of course you did

I mean it

Thats the problem

Are you going to help me or be useless?

I dunno… My eyebrows are still hurt

JENNIFER

Whoa we’re busting ot the full names now? Heavy.

I’m not good at this?

Good at what?

Talking

I know

Jen...

Seriously, what are you trying to do? Apologize? What am I supposed to help you here with?? Give a girl something to work with!

You thought about your reply for a moment before typing it up.

Flirt?

You died just typing that up.

“I got some good and some bad news,” Tim said.

His voice ripped you out of your thought and you almost dropped the phone in a panic, afraid that he could read what you had just written. You placed it display-down on your lap, blushing.

“W-what?” you asked as you looked at him.

“Well, the good news is that there was a power outage and in the whole city. Something like a force-field-thing but we don’t know more.”

You blinked.

“Why is that good news?” you asked, confused.

“It means nobody targeted this building specifically. We are safe. Locked up but safe.”

Somehow, that made sense. But only in Gotham.

“And the bad news?” you asked.

“There is a lot happening right now and we might be stuck in here for a while because there are other emergencies that happened.” he explained carefully and you nodded.

That meant you would spend some time with him in here.

You glanced at your phone to see what your friend had answered.

Show him your tits

You blocked her.

“You look angry.” You noted, lying on the floor with his jacket underneath your head. He had insisted you take it and you learned how stubborn he could be.

“’M not.” He said absentmindedly while frowning at his phone.

“You sure do.” You said. He probably wasn’t even listening to you.

“Nope.” He said casually.

“Yupp.”

“No.”

“Ye-hes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop it.”

“Nope.”

This was fun.

“Who are you texting?” you asked, bored out of your mind. It looked like he was doing something very important and you asked yourself if he was a workaholic. Or maybe he just enjoyed someone else's company more than yours?

Were you that boring?

“My brother.” He said, glancing over at you for a moment with a quick smile and suddenly you felt reassured again.

Damn, he was good.

“Hm.” You just said, not knowing how to answer to that.

“Why did you stop texting?” he asked, still typing away and you turned your head to him.

“What do you mean?” you asked confused.

“When your phone worked again you were texting with someone. And then you stopped.” he stated curiously and you realized that it was a main trait of his. Curiosity.

“My best friend.” You said, circling your finger over your phone that was laying on your stomach.

“But she’s being obnoxious again.” You finished drawing your circles and started drawing them in the other direction.

“How come?”

It was such a simple question but he seemed genuinely interested. At the same time, he wasn’t even looking at you and was typing on his screen. You didn’t know what to make of it.

Talk about mixed signals.

“She’s trying to set me up on blind dates and … she really doesn’t have the slightest clue what my type is.”

You paused a moment and he looked at you, fully.

“Jesus, that sounded stuck-up.” You realized horrified. “W-what I meant is that I don’t even know if I have a type myself and I didn’t mean it in a physical appearance-wise way but its just really uncomfortable when you sit with someone and try to talk to him and its just obvious they are here to hook up with your friend and not interested to talk to you, at all. You know?” You said, squinting up at the ceiling of the elevator, wondering why you just told him that. Why should he care?

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation.

You would probably regret this a lot tomorrow.

“Why... don’t you just tell her no?”

It sounded so simple when he said it.

Because she always agrees first and then it’s my fault when I cancel.

Because she is a little bit manipulative like that sometimes.

Because she keeps playing the victim whenever I do.

There where so many replies you could’ve given him but you didn’t. Instead, you sighed.

“Because I’m a pushover.” you said, and it rang true to you.

“You don’ sound like one.” He said, unsure of how to word it. “Or at least you don’t seem like one.”

“Thanks, guy who knows me for like two hours. At least that means I can fake dominance?”

He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, ‘dominance’ is maybe a bit far-fetched,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shut up, Timothy.”

“I would really appreciate it f you would stop calling me that.”

“Why? What's wrong with Timothy?”

  “Maybe we should start recording diary entries to keep track of the days that had passed? In case someone finds us too late?”

You had taken off your shoes and his head rested on your bag. He had rolled up his sleeves and his tie was gone and it was seriously dangerous for you to look at him right now.

Somehow being stuck with him for 4 hours fo far made him seem so much more human than you would’ve ever imagined. This wasn’t the rich business-boy you heard of. This was fidgety, curious and sassy Tim. The elevator Tim.

“Jokes on you, I already made seven entries so far. Currently on entry eight, pondering about the symbolism of the elevator.” His Phone was gone and he was staring at the blinking lights with you. Occasionally closing his eyes as he seemed to be just as tired as you were.

In a normal setting you would’ve never been caught dead in such a position but somehow you stopped caring around the first hour that had passed. Social construct couldn’t harm you here anymore. It was a surreal plane of existence.

“Maybe the lights are the light that leads us to the afterlife?” you theorized and you saw him grin at that.

“And the buttons symbolize the levels of hell?” he added

“Heaven and hell.” You corrected.

“We’re somewhere on the top floor. What does that mean?”

You thought about it.

“That Satan and God are fighting for custody and god is winning?” you improvised on the spot.

He let out a laugh.

“Great. I’m gonna get adopted again.”

At that, you burst out laughing.

  “Why do you carry so many chocolate-bars in your bag? Did you raid a vending machine or something?” Tim looked at you, deeply concentrated as he took a bite from one of them.

“Pff, Because I always am prepared for being stranded on a deserted island like in Cast Away, duh.” You said, mockingly.

“And chocolate bars would be your number one priority in such a case?” he raised an eyebrow, crunching at the chocolate-chip one.

“What would be yours, Mr. Know-it-all?” you asked

“Water. Water and shelter, obviously.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly carry around a freaking tent with me everywhere.” You chuckled.

“Pff you could. With the right amount of dedication.” He smiled.

“People would think I’m paranoid.”

“A small price for survival, (Y/N).”

“Guess I’ll just die then?” you shrugged.

“Yeah …. Please don’t.”

He smiled weakly but there was something in his voice you couldn’t decipher.

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Tim said, eyes determined.

“I would kill Robin, Marry Nightwing and fuck Red Robin.” He said and you chuckled at the speed of which he answered that question.

“What did Robin ever do to you?”

“Do I have to answer this?” he asked dramatically.

“No, but why marry Nightwing? I want to know your thoughts behind it.”

“He seems like someone you could trust?” he motioned the usual ‘I don’t know’ motion and you accepted it.

“I’m not gonna question the Red Robin part.” You assured him and it seemed to pique his interest.

“Why not? Is it like….. a common thing to want?” he sounded almost worried and definitely confused.

“Well not that I know... but he seems like a loveable dork.” You chuckled. “He saved me once.”

“He… did?” He asked.

“Yeah. I almost walked into traffic once while I was distracted, long story, and he just pulled me back while swinging by and yelled ‘PAY ATTENTION’ and then he slammed against a building.” You laughed softly at the memory. “I felt so guilty for it but he was already gone before I could apologize.”

Tim went silent after that.

“If we ever get out of here, I want to eat a triple cheeseburger. Not the tiny ones. I’m talking about the ones that are as big as my face. The ones you could feed a small family with for three days, you know?”

You were hungry. 

There was more hunger than a few chocolate bars and some bubblegum could satisfy. Maybe it was also just the fantasy of being free and sitting in a fast food joint and stuffing your face that intensified that wish.

You wanted out of there and the need to get up and run was getting stronger and stronger with every passing minute. But at the same time, you wanted to stay and keep talking with him.

He gave you a kind of attention you’ve been desperately waiting and searching for and a part of you felt guilty that maybe he was forced to do so since he had nowhere else to go right now. But it felt so natural and sincere whenever he did that you wished it would never end.

When you didn’t get a response from him you turned your head, only to see him staring back at you. He immediately looked away.

“Y-yeah, me too.” He quickly said and you asked yourself what that look just now was supposed to mean.

  You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light in the room.

Where were you?

Oh right, you were still trapped.

And you had fallen asleep.

Fuck.

You looked over at Tim, who was sitting up again.

You blushed deeply in embarrassment before you sat up too.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Tim looked at you again with a smile.

“Yeah … Uhm… How long was I gone?” you asked, hesitantly and you watched him look at his phone.

“About an hour.”

Your heart dropped.

“Oh. Thanks.” You couldn’t even believe you had the nerve to fall asleep in a situation like this but you were apparently tired enough to do so.

“What did I miss?” you asked and you definitely noticed how he hesitated and avoided your eyes.

“Your friend called.” He said. “And …. She sounded angry.”

Your heart dropped.

“You picked up??” you asked in disbelieve. What did she say to him?? Oh Dear Lord, please let her have shut her big mouth just once for this time, PLEASE.

“I- I really didn’t mean to pick up! But she called seven times and your phone wasn’t muted and when I wanted to mute it I saw her text of how worried she was and…” he trailed off and it was almost a little bit comforting to see him talk in a frenzy instead of you.

“What did she say?” you asked, having your mental fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

“Nothing much. She kept yelling and when I finally got a word in she hung up.” he said and you never felt more relieved than before.

 “Are you shitting me? That’s what he did??” you couldn’t contain yourself in laughter as you heard the story he had just told you. It made you feel a dozen times better about the ones you had told him before.

“Yeah. Bruce banned spoons after that. Except for the kitchen and dining room, of course.”

You laughed at that, even letting out a snort as you couldn’t contain it.

“No wonder he always looks so tired in all the pictures.” You chuckled.

“Besides that, I still can’t believe you have a dining room. One that you actually use.” You added.

Tim looked away and you had learned in the short time here with him that it meant he wasn’t quite comfortable with that topic.

“Yeah, comes with the job I guess?”

“How often do you guys just … you know, play hide and seek? Or Tag? Do you ever feel tempted?”

Tim chuckled.

“We did, once. We aren’t allowed to do that anymore. We lost Damian for two days and didn’t tell Bruce...” he trailed off.

You laughed again and you didn’t notice how much he seemed to enjoy that sound.

“I don't even want to know how you guys did that.” You said, grinning at the hilarity of it all.

“I’m not even sure I’m allowed to tell you, anyway.” He replied. You glanced over at him, opening your mouth to say something when you both heard a voice from outside. 

You both looked at the door from where the sound came.

It was the rescue workers. And suddenly a timer started to run down in your head that you didn’t know you would start to detest.

It was only a matter of time till this would end.

The men outside started the whole ‘Are you safe’ spiel and you heard Tim answer some of the questions. The only thing you could focus on was what the man had said.

“You’ll be out in 15 to 20 minutes.”

15 to 20 minutes.

That was by far not enough time.

Was it selfish of you to want to sit here with him and keep talking? Listening to his past shenanigans and the way he laughed when you told him yours? The way his brows creased when he was thinking or the completely surprised expression of his when you delivered a good comeback to his sassy remarks?

You probably shouldn’t feel this way anyways.

Wasn’t he technically your boss?

Even though he had told you that he really didn’t like it when you talk to him like he was this big shot, it still didn't change the fact that he was.

Or maybe it was your way of pushing him away? Your way of justifying why he would never be interested in you in this way.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tim looked down at you and you honestly didn't know how to answer that. You sat up, hearing the workers trying to open the doors as you glanced at the jacket your head was lying on a second ago.

“This is going to sound stupid…” you said, already throwing the idea out of the window until you saw his face. It was concerned, almost worried and a little bit curious.

“Try me.” He said, encouragingly.

“I’m .. gonna miss this.” You said eyes averted to your shoes. The courage he had given you was gone and you wished you could take all that back.

“Being locked in?” he asked and you looked up at him, ready to tell him how stupid that question just was when you saw his smile. He understood.

You two shared a look.

“You know..” he started after a moment. “There is this place, a few blocks from here, that has really good burgers… At least I heard so.”

You chuckled.

“Oh, really? Even cheeseburgers?”

“Yupp. The big ones.”

“Sounds tempting.”

A heartbeat passed.

“Would you want to go with me?”

You thought about it.

“Like as newly formed friends or as a date?”

“Definitely a date.” he paused. “O-only if you want to.”

You could barely contain your smile as you heard the door crack open.

“I would love to.”

[kurtbastian-land]

Gingerbread

Pairing(s): Kurt Hummel + Burt Hummel

Summary: When an old family friend stops by for a visit, things got a little bit tense in the Hummel household. Can be seen as a small follow up to Dec 5′s writing prompt - decorations

Warning(s): One sided homophobic conversation

Author’s note: (see below)

Knock knock knock

"Hey bud, mind getting the door for me?" Burt called out from the living room, eyes never leaving the television as he took another swig of his beer.

Hearing a muffled "okay" coming from his son and a quick thumping of footsteps heading towards the entrance, before Burt heard the door squeaked open.

"Oh hey Mr Jones!" 9 year old Kurt greeted the man outside with a smile as he opened the door wider.

There was a few seconds of silence as the visitor scanned the boy, wearing a pink frilly apron, in front of him, before a voice curtly replied back, "Kurt."

Visibly taken aback at the clipped tone used on him, eyes slightly widened as he quickly looked down at his feet when the man was clearly uninterested in whatever he has to say.

"Erm, dad's in the living room," Kurt mumbled as he stepped aside to let Mr Jones enter his home.

Without so much of a thanks, Mr Jones stride to the living room, leaving a dumbfounded Kurt behind. Kurt furrowed his eyebrows at the cold interaction he just had with the man. He used to be so jovial, always getting Kurt presents for no apparent reason, dubbing him "the son he never had.". It was certainly out of character for the latter to seem uninterested and... irritated at Kurt for no apparent reason? He stared a little longer before shrugging it off. Maybe the old family friend was having a bad day.

Deciding he shouldn't fret over something minor, Kurt closed the door before heading back to the kitchen to finish baking the rest of the gingerbread dough. After the incident 2 nights ago, Burt spent the entire day going through his late wife's items he packed away in the attic, trying to find her recipe book. When he did manage to find it after a couple of hours, he gave it to Kurt, with a promise that he takes good care of it and that he only bakes or cooks when there is an adult within the vicinity of the kitchen.

While Kurt was busy in the kitchen, Burt stood from the couch to give his old college buddy a welcoming handshake and a pat on the back.

"Steve!" Burt exclaimed, muting the tv with the press of his remote control, "what have you been up to? I have seen you since... that day."

The funeral. Steve smiled apologetically as he sat down on the recliner Burt gestured him to take a seat on.

"Well, I got promoted and was posted to Westerville because of it. It was hard to get away for awhile," Steve explained, giving his thanks when Burt offered his congratulations.

"But... how have you been holding up these couple of months?" Steve threaded on the topic carefully, knowing that the wounds of losing someone you love would probably still be fresh, especially if that someone was your wife and the mother of your son.

The latter gave a smile, which somehow came out as a grimace, "I'm taking things day by day. Sometimes I can't believe she's not here anymore you know? It’s like one day, when I turn around, she’ll be there behind me, as though she never left in the first place.”

Steve nodded understandingly, "I can’t imagine how that must feel.”

Pausing for a second, “and.. what about.. Kurt? How's he taking that his mum isn't here anymore?"

Burt took a quick glance at the direction of the kitchen, this time, a small genuine smile took over his face. "That boy, he's strong like his mother. Sometimes I feel like I rely on him when it should be the other way round."

Steve followed suit and stared at the same direction Burt is staring, only he was narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Look Burt, I'm saying this as an old pal of yours and I mean no offence," Steve started off slowly as he turned his attention back to the other man, "but don't you think that there must be something wrong with your boy?"

Immediately getting protective over Kurt, Burt tensed up at the accusation being thrown, "you've got to be more specific there buddy. You can't go around telling me that there's something wrong with Kurt without saying why."

Knowing there was no way to beat around the bush, Steve decided to just go ahead and spoke his mind, "your son is in the kitchen wearing a pink apron and cooking. Your 9-year-old son, if I have to repeat. Do you really think that’s normal?”

"Exc-," Burt said as he cut off Steve, preparing to interrupt and rebut the point being made, only to be interrupted as well.

"Now here me out Burt. If no one has said anything yet, then I guess I'm your only true friend," Steve said, throwing a pitiful look towards the latter, "you have a tea party set kept by the doorway and I'm hundred percent sure you don't have a daughter that you've been hiding these couple of years from me either. Those aren’t boys toys Burt. You don’t the other boys drinking tea with their pinky up.”

"What's next? You're going to let Kurt wear a skirt to prom and continue playing fag as a coping mechanism to losing his mother?" Steve couldn't help but to sneer at the word 'fag' as though saying it burns him to the inner core.

Bam! With a sharp hit of the wooden table in front of Burt, Steve jumped slightly at the unexpected action coming from the former, effectively halting his speech.

"I refuse to tolerate such words in my household," Burt quietly said, jabbing the table at the end of his statement, "especially when it comes to my son and for simply doing what he likes to do."

"Now I would appreciate it if you could take a leave now."

Steve stared at his friend in bewilderment but complied regardless, knowing Burt well enough that there was no use trying to argue. Letting out a sniffed, Steve stiffly nodded at Burt before turning around to let himself out.

Unbeknownst to the two men, a certain 9 year old was hiding right by the doorway of the kitchen, hearing the entire conversation. Kurt stuck out his tongue when he heard his dad asking Mr. Jones to leave.

That’s right, no one makes fun of the Hummels for liking what they like.

Once Burt heard his front door slammed shut, he couldn't seem to find himself to relax.

"Dad?" A voice piped up beside Burt. 

Burt rubbed his face tiredly, turning to look at his son, holding out a tray of freshly baked cookies. And I mean really looked. He couldn't help but smile softly when he saw a little bit of Elizabeth in Kurt's eyes and the way he pursed his lips the exact same way his late wife would whenever she was concerned about something. However, he also saw himself in his son, the hair he used to have, his nose. A little bit of Elizabeth and Burt moulded into a little Kurt.

"Did you hear what happened just now bud?" Burt asked as he raked his brain for excuses or kid-friendly explanations to explain what just happened between him and Steve.

But when Kurt shook his head no, Burt let out a sigh of relief. "So what have you got there Kurt?"

Picking up a freshly baked gingerbread cookie, Burt examined slightly before taking a bite out of it.

Burt nodded as he continued chewing, letting out "mhmms" and "this is good" between each bite. Kurt beamed at his dad, although wincing slightly when the latter decided that eating good cookies equates to ruffling his hair.

"Say son," Burt stated as he took another cookie from the baking tray, "growing boys like you should be out playing."

"I do play outside. I just invited you to my tea party this morning for tomorrow," Kurt stated, feeling himself getting defensive, having a sense of dread of where this conversation could be heading.

"I mean like real playing. Some soccer or football. You know, boy games. Things that normal boys play."

The moment those words were out of Burt's mouth, he instantly regretted his poor choice of words. Never has he ever seen his son close off to him before, too their neighbours, classmates, teachers after the funeral but never to him.

“I mean not that you’re not normal or -” Burt quickly tried to say to make things better.

"I'll go finish cleaning the mess I made," Kurt said as though he heard nothing. Turning around, Kurt dashed off before Burt could say anything.

And to Burt, it was like he never came back.

Author’s note: A little explanation on why I decided to portray Burt in such a light. During Kurt’s coming out episode, Kurt tried so hard to prove to his dad that he was straight, kissing girls, changing his dressing, deciding to tell Burt that he was trying out for the football team when he was caught dancing to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies”. Their relationship also seemed kinda cold and not as close as compared to future episodes/seasons. So, in my interpretation of such acts, I thought there is a potential that Burt might somewhere along the way given Kurt the impression of how he should act and stuff. It was only when Kurt officially came out to Burt was when his protective and loving nature was seen and demonstrated.

[gwynne-fics]

[Twisted to a Fault Chapter 93 — banner by mrshobbes]

Lexi has made me lovely banners for some of the chapters. She’s complied them all for us. Please take a look! They are fabulous and she is amazing!

Twisted to a Fault Master List

Chapter 93: 2195 words

=====

By the time lunch came around, Rachel had three more looks to give to her team for critique when she went into work tomorrow morning. Not even the obscenely early morning run with Young-Do could dampen her mood. He was much too cheerful in the mornings. At least she had access to his private gym so she could run without other people listening to her grunt into her handsfree device.

Hyo-Shin set down her favorite smoothie before he took the seat next to her. “You look happy. I hope it is product of last night.” He handed her a piece of paper. “I could probably just email it to you, but I was bored in one of my pre-law classes this morning.”

Rachel eagerly took the list of movies and skimmed it. She raised her eyebrows. “These are mostly independent films. I don’t have that refined of taste.”

“It’s mostly been Bo-Na and I picking. Chan-Young and Eun-Sang listen to her. Ye-Sol and Myung-Soo always text me for advice. Every once in a while, Eun-Sang throws a horror movie in at us and we don’t sleep for a week.” He smiled as he lazily leaned back in his chair. “We’re open to new ideas.”

“You don’t have a single action thriller or romantic comedy on here. It’s all art films to make you think or…movies with Mega Entertainment talent. You didn’t notice that Bo-Na was doing clandestine research on you?”

Hyo-Shin laughed and sipped at his drink. “Of course, I did. We all did. No one likes to call out Bo-Na. She pouts and whines and it’s adorable only to her boyfriend. We’re a finely tuned ecosystem but we’re stuck in a rut and I don’t want to tell Eun-Sang that she can’t pick another slasher film. I assumed you had better taste than that.”

Rachel pursed her lips. “I like action movies.”

“Then pick one. Rachel, don’t try too hard to please all of us. Just pick what you like, from the snacks to the drinks to the movie. We’re your friends. That allows you some leeway. We’re also new at being friends, which means, at the very least, we’ll be polite.”

And talk about her behind her back. Bile briefly rose up in her throat as Rachel remembered the hundreds of conversations she’d overheard about her in bathrooms or around corners. Ye-Sol had some very nasty things to say and while Rachel knew she deserved some of them, it hurt to listen to Bo-Na agree that she was the worst girl in existence. Until her stupid engagement to Tan, she and Bo-Na had been friends. They had matching bows in their hair and everything. It felt like a lifetime ago. Rachel swallowed and nodded at Hyo-Shin.

“I don’t think anyone but you actually wants to be friends with me, sunbae.” She occupied her hands with her drink and tried not to watch him frown out of the corner of her eye. “Myung-Soo is my boyfriend’s best friend and he doesn’t even like me very much. It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I’m not looking for pity. It’s just the truth. I’m terrified of being lonely when Young-Do leaves. If it weren’t for that, I probably wouldn’t care about them either.”

“I think they will surprise you. I think you will surprise them.” He nudged his thigh against hers. “Where did this self-deprecation come from? It’s very new.”

“Is it?” Rachel shrugged and then nudged him back as she pulled out the reason for their lunches—his notes on the class he recommended her for. They only had about fifteen more minutes for him to distill the main points for her. “We found each other outside of a psychiatrist’s office, sunbae. I think we both have dark corners we try to hide behind false bravado.”

“I guess it never occurred to me that your bravado was false. I thought you owned high school.”

“I was engaged at fifteen during a time most girls get to focus on class or what cute boy they sit behind. My mother was divorced and remarrying without any hint of shame. I didn’t have the luxury of being anything but brave. You weren’t there when it fell apart.”

“I know. You’ve mentioned that before.” He put his hand over hers. “I think you’re a lot more courageous than you give yourself credit. I wish I had half your bravery. I honestly didn’t think you would come last night. I’m really glad you did.”

Rachel gave a wry smile and as she opened the notebook. “Desperation looks a lot like bravery on the outside. Come on. We keep wasting our lunches with personal stuff. I need to get a good grade in this class to justify taking it. If I’m struggling by midterms, I’m making you tutor me.”

His grin was closed lipped but she thought there was a spark in his eyes she hadn’t seen since they reconnected. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I always want to tempt you. I’ll always be curious.”

“So will I.” He leaned close to look at his old notes. “I think you’ll enjoy today’s lecture. It’s about picking clear and concise styles that reflect the essence of the character. She’s going to go on a rant about the coordinator picking the wrong things. She’s campaigning to have it be a required course for the production tract.”

Until the bell rang, Rachel lose herself in the soft cadence of his voice as he went into tutoring mode. He must have learned it from the tutor he fell in love with in high school. It was pleasant to listen to. She had to blink and bite her tongue several times so she didn’t lose track of what he was saying.

“Well, today should be interesting then,” she said as they walked to her classroom. “After my next project at work, I should talk to my mother about how PPL works.”

“You’re also going to get your semester project in this lecture. You have to do a design board for the four main characters of one of the upcoming dramas being pitched. If you want, I can bring mine next week. I did alright. You’ll probably be able to see why she wasn’t completely enamored with it.”

“You got a bad grade? I think I’m shocked.”

Hyo-Shin snorted as they paused outside the door. “I didn’t get a perfect grade so it’s basically the same thing. My mother gets irritated when I’m not perfect at everything, but especially my major classes. I still got an exceptional, final grade. That’s all that counts.”

“My mother probably has the same expression. It shows up when I don’t do well in business mathematics. She wants me to take an accounting course before I graduate. She’s probably right but I’ll dread it all the same.”

The warning bell rang and Rachel pulled back from him. She didn’t like that he had to sprint across the campus to get to his next class, no matter how much he disliked it. His professor had a habit of locking the doors five minutes in and no letting late students in.

“Good luck. Let know how it goes.” Hyo-Shin bowed slightly and then took off. Rachel went into class and for the first time in most of her college experience, she was excited about an academic project. She really liked Park sonsaeng-nim’s lecture style and the way she focused the class on the practicalities of fashion design for fictional characters. Hyo-Shin was right to recommend this class to her.

Rachel took her own copious notes and didn’t rely on Hyo-Shin’s despite how good they were. She wanted her thoughts to supplement his academic mind. But it was Park sonsaeng-nim’s final closing that had her heart racing.

“I’ve been contacted by the costuming department in the production company putting together this drama. It is one of the rare dramas that will be completely pre-produced. They will judge your design boards and choose the student whose work reflects the vision most in line with the characters they are creating. It will be a blind presentation. I know some of you are interning at fashion design companies this semester. This could be the kind of thing on your resume to get you a full-time position. Do not squander it.”

Rachel felt excitement burst through her. They would get the script for the first episode. If she could do this and be the design board chosen, Mother would have to be impressed. Team Leader Baek would have to stop looking at her like a parachute. And if Rachel balanced school and work to the success of both, maybe she could prove to herself that she could balance Zeus and RS International.

She knew she was the best choice available to Young-Do. She just wanted to be the right choice. She also wanted to be able to sleep and socialize these next two years. Maybe she should attempt to see another doctor to give her sleeping pills. These nights without Young-Do were getting restless and frustrating.

The rest of her business classes were incredibly dull in comparison. Rachel texted Hyo-Shin that he underplayed the amazingness of this assignment. He sent her back some emoticons just as her school email pinged. Rachel frowned at the request from Park sonseang-nim’s request to meet with her during her office to discuss the assignment.

Rachel clenched her jaw and took several deep breaths that didn’t cleanse her of any anxiety. She replied that she would be there but didn’t ask the reason for the meeting. She already knew—she was the heir of RS International and Rachel wasn’t allowed to do whatever might be considered cheating. This wasn’t Jeguk where she was expected to use her family’s connections to get the highest grade.

It bummed her out. She wanted to text Young-Do to complain but he would just point out that she was preemptively worrying. Instead, Rachel texted Ji-Sun that she wanted to go clubbing. She slept better after exercise and a few drinks. Ji-Sun was delighted and offered to pick her up from Zeus so her car wouldn’t be seen in the scandalous neighborhood.

It felt a little bit like a date but Rachel didn’t really hesitate to agree. Ji-Sun knew she had a boyfriend but Rachel wasn’t ready to tell her that they were just friends. She didn’t want to lose Ji-Sun because she couldn’t like her back.

As she made her way to her teacher’s office, Rachel tried to figure out what she would wear to Lilac Breeze. Part of her wondered how many patrons were like her—straight girls sick of boys groping at them at clubs. Myung-Soo constantly wanted Young-Do to go out dancing with him and the bevy of girls he had around him ever since they were in high school. Young-Do wouldn’t go without Rachel after they graduated high school.

Looking back on it, it felt silly that she hadn’t noticed she was turning him on when they danced, especially now that she knew how large he was, but she hadn’t because, when it came to noticing stuff like sexuality, she was blind until someone else pointed it out.

Rachel sighed at herself and knocked on Park sonsaeng-nim’s door and entered at her command. She smiled and gestured for Rachel to sit down. Thankfully, she got to the point. “I cannot stop you from using the resources of your company for this project or using it for a marketing opportunity. You are not a film or production student but I can see how something like this will appeal to your mother.”

She tried not to clench her jaw. “My mother already emailed you.”

“A personal visit. I’m used to involved mothers. She was more polite and less dismissive than Lee Hyo-Shin’s mother. I know why he recommended you for this course. You are doing well despite not having any of the prerequisites. I just ask that you take care to follow the guidelines exactly and do the project individually without the aid of your trillion won company.”

“I’m a design major, sonsaeng-nim. That is what I want to do because I have decades before I become president. I always do my own work. I hope this means I’m not automatically disqualified from the production company’s consideration.”

“No. President Lee would sue the university. Her reputation precedes her.”

“I won’t lie. I did see this project as an opportunity for my corporate interests. I don’t intend to squander it but I promise to follow all the guidelines. I won’t speak with anyone at RS International about it unless my design boards are picked. I’ve already read the script you gave us, along with the character guidelines. I’m confident in my abilities as a designer. I’m a good student and I’ve enjoyed your class. I hope I continue to do so.”

Rachel stood because Mother would want her to end this on her terms. She bowed and turned to leave. Park sonsaeng-nim didn’t stop her and Rachel hoped she hadn’t broken all good will between them as teacher and student.

And she couldn’t even yell at Mother for being a helicopter.