#seeing Frenchie say these things so casually gives me emotions

[knifewieldingenby]

Frenchie calling other men in the crew babe and dear is something that can actually be so personal

[rainbowwritesthings]

I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight

Hughie reached up and felt the edge of the knife that was lodged in his ribs and could almost feel where the tip of the knife exited from his back. Butcher grabbed the hand that was fumbling with the knife handle and brought Hughie’s knuckles to his lips, “don’t worry bought that now.”

Hughie dies for awhile. Butcher freaks out. AO3

Soldier Boy stared Hughie down, somehow managing to exude disinterest while still maintaining an energy that spoke of impending bloodshed.

Hughie forced himself not to look around for Butcher, who had slipped away to try and track down the very Supe measuring the young man up.

“Where are your friends?”

The sudden baritone had Hughie jolting slightly and his usual instinct regarding a very powerful Supe asking questions rang true.

“Who?”

Butcher had made fun of Hughie countless times because of his ‘play dumb’ strategy, and the gruff man would always end the jab by saying it only made people more suspicious.

MM and Frenchie had made similar, less pointed comments about his lies under pressure, even Kimiko had once given him a look when Hughie dumbly asked, “who’s Hughie Campbell?” When someone was trying to intimidate him.

The heavy sound of boots walking towards him had Hughie’s heart beat harder, and he wished he could at least pretend to be brave while facing the first superhero.

This was Soldier Boy’s first meeting with any of the group and Hughie could understand why this was so disappointing for the man.

Soldier Boy stood in front of him and raised his eyebrows, “you’re really a member of The Boys? The group that kills Superheroes.”

Hughie blinked and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted when the man continued on.

“Your leader is former SAS and CIA. His right-hand man was a combat medic, left hand man was a gun-runner and chemist expert. Oh, and the other member is a trained Super terrorist.”

Hughie noticed the lack of mention for Starlight and hoped it meant that her spot on the Seven meant she was safe.

The Supe got even closer until they were just inches apart, “you used to upsell bullshit equipment for a Radio Shack. Why the fuck are you here?”

God Hughie wished he had a good answer to that, or at least the spine to say something cool like he knew Butcher would have.

“It’s a long story.”

This answer gained him a grunt and Soldier Boy stepped back, with no warning his fist shot out and Hughie fell to the ground. The Supe lowered down to straddle the man and Hughie tried desperately to get out from under him.

When two hands linked around his throat, Hughie froze and stared up.

“I could snap your neck and there’d be nothing you could do to stop me.”

Hughie was already well aware of this fact, and somehow being in such a powerless position eased the panic welling inside of him. As Soldier Boy’s grip around his throat tightened, Hughie grabbed his knife.

The first knife that Butcher had gifted him in the guise of safety, the one Hughie kept with him at all times since receiving it. He used it to stab the Supe in the arm, and Soldier Boy didn’t so much as flinch as he shifted to hold Hughie down with one hand.

The other hand reached up to yank out the knife, he examined the knife and looked down at Hughie.

“Maybe you aren’t as balless as I thought.”

Hughie sucked in air and heard heavy footfalls closing into to him. Butcher finally arrived with stomping feet and a shout, “Oi, cunt!” As Butcher shot at the Supe, Soldier Boy only looked up at him as a courtesy.

“Finally, a true member of the team.”

With a cold smile the Supe maintained eye contact with Butcher and rammed the knife through Hughie’s chest. Hughie couldn’t help but scream when the knife ripped through his lung, cartilage, and bones, and after it was in he weakly grasped at his chest.

When Hughie grasped about the area he could only feel the tip of the handle sticking out, the rest of the blade and handle was buried firmly in his lung and ribcage.

Butcher let out a roar and the rest of clip was unloaded into the Supe, Soldier Boy merely stood up casually over Hughie and wipe his bloody hand on his pants uniform.

Burcher was still holding an empty gun to the Supers face, seething with unbridled rage.

“I’ll kill every fuckin’ one of ya’!” For once an emotion other than boredom crossed Soldier Boy’s face, but Hughie’s vision was too blurry to make out what expression it was exactly, but it looked almost like surprise.

Black filled the whole of his vision and peace was momentarily granted, until strong hands were firmly shaking his shoulders and a voice was ringing in his ears.

Butcher came into a blurry world view that slowly cleared until all Hughie could see was Billy, cradling him in his arms with a desperate expression.

“Hold on now Hughie. Others are on their way, gonna get you all patched up.”

That was the most blatant lie Butcher had ever told him, even if MM rolled in right now with a squad of trained medics it wouldn’t matter.

Hughie could almost feel where the tip of the knife exited from his back and reached up to the area once again.

Butcher grabbed the hand that was fumbling around the knife handle and brought Hughie’s knuckles to his lips, “don’t worry bought’ that now.”

Hughie tried to focus on the man, truly he did, but he was also trying to gather air into his lungs. He was drowning in himself, there was no other way to describe it.

Butcher seemed to pick up on his gasping for air and with a gentle warning, lifted Hughie so he was braced on his lap.

Slightly more upright Hughie coughed up a spray of blood, coating both Butcher and Hughie. It was still hard to breathe, he could feel the blood pulling in his chest and congealing in his throat.

“Breathe darlin’, just breathe.”

At the command Hughie drew in a wet breath and immediately coughed harder, “Butch-“

“Shh, save your breath luv.”

A calloused hand ran through his hair before cupping his cheek, “you’ll be fine, made of strong stuff you are. This ain’t nothin’ compared to what you been through.”

Hughie’s vision cleared enough to see Butcher, more distraught than he had ever seen him before which lead to a new resolve.

“Listen-please listen to me.”

It was odd how exhausting that simple sentence was and the dawning comprehension that he was dying finally beginning to hit him. This understanding must have shown on his face because Butcher placed more pressure on the wound with a feral look in his eyes.

“You’re gonna be fine, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to ya.”

Holy shit, Billy Butcher was in complete denial about what was happening.

“Billy. I love you. Please don’t-“

More burning pain had Hughie wheezing past the blood, clutching Butcher’s hand in a vice grip. When the burn ebbed, he blinked past the black spots.

“Don’t give up.”

While the man knew he was in no way comparable to Becca, his death wouldn’t leave a gaping wound in Butchers heart like hers had, he also admitted that he was important to Butcher in a different way.

Hopefully someone else would fill his place as both a member, as well as someone to stand beside Butcher. Someone who could shine a light in the dark but was still resilient enough to stand against the Supes without fear.

He must have blacked out again because when he was blinking through the tunnel around his eyes he could hear Butcher whispering, it almost sounded like a prayer.

“You can’t give me a light in the fuckin’ cave just to take it away, not like this. Not him, please, anyone other than him.”

Hughie could hear a harsh wheezing and it took a moment to realize it was coming from him, distantly he could feel the pressure Butcher was keeping on the wound and the feel of Butchers face buried in Hughie’s hair.

He tried to swallow the thick metallic in his throat but ended up painfully coughing instead of forcing it down. Somehow coughing around the thick paste painting his insides hurt so much worse that the actual stab wound did.

Though now that he thought about it, he could still feel the knife stuck between his ribs, moving around and tearing something else up every time he tried to breathe to deeply.

God, there was so much more Hughie wanted to say to Butcher. He wanted to comfort the man who had already been through so much and let him know that whatever he found so special in Hughie could be found in someone else at least ten fold.

Hughie could hear the rest of the Boys arrive, not able to determine who was who when they filtered in but with sudden resolve he forced himself to focus.

“I-I can’t do anything about this man.”

He could hear MM distantly, as if his ears were packed full of wool, but despite how far away the voice was he could hear the pain laced in every word. Hughie felt cold in a way he hadn’t felt before, this wasn’t like a sudden cold snap that struck before you before the space heater was ready, instead it went deeper and curved around his bones, his very soul even.

He was also thirsty, despite how thick the blood coated his throat he still wanted something, anything, to quench his thirst. He could hear another voice, muffled as it was, and was able to determine it was Frenchie.

The only thing keeping him from floating away growled and Hughie forcibly peeled back the weights holding his eyelids closed. Everything was tilted on it’s side and he could barely see past the tunnel around his vision.

Billy’s face slowly came into focus and when he saw Hughie looking up at him, he gave a terrible smile. Not the one that promised impending bloodshed or illegal activities, but a new one entirely.

It took a while but Hughie was able to focus on MM next, the man looked as if he had been the one stabbed and gave the younger man a reassuring smile that contrasted with every other body signal he was giving Hughie.

Frenchie was rubbing the back of his head and pacing, but when he saw Hughie’s eyes on him he stopped and stooped down.

“Petit Hughie.”

He gave the dying man a shaky smile, and Hughie gave him a weak smile back. At this Frenchie looked around and sniffled slightly before getting up to pace around more.

Hughie looked at Kimiko and was shocked to see tears gathered around her eyes, her gaze was locked into his chest and the barest hint of the hilt that was visible sticking out of his chest. She was breathing deeply and Hughie knew she was visualizing taking the knife that killed him and slitting Soldier Boys throat with it.

Which led to Hughie imagining what the group would do next.

Butcher would go on a complete warpath, maybe even worse than it had been before. Homelander would always be the first mark, but now Soldier Boy would be directly under that name.

God Hughie hoped that Frenchie and mainly MM could keep Butcher, and maybe Kimiko, from trying to fight Soldier Boy without a plan.

There was no reason for all of them to crumble under one Supes hand over him, though honestly Hughie reasoned that none of them were that foolhardy to try and rush towards revenge before he had started to decompose.

Well if anything else, Annie could always get them to at least consider reason if their vision became clouded. He could hear Butcher above him and forced himself to focus.

“Please luv, you can't leave me. I love you Hughie, fuckin’ hell I love you.”

Hughie wanted to say that he loved him just as much, that Butcher was never what he expected from a partner but he didn’t regret the decision to join him even if this was the result.

“B-billy, thank you.”

For everything, all the terrible gory bits and the sweet moments that made life feel worth living. An ironic sentiment considering how close death was breathing down his neck right now.

Hughie hoped that when they broke the news to his father, they would lie and say it was instant. That there was no pain, no Hughie wheezing around his own blood.

Fuck he was really going to die, wasn’t he?

Hughie vomited up more burning blood as Butcher tried to sooth him and try as he might the numbness filled him completely. Swallowing Hughie whole in a dark embrace, free of pain and worry.

-- 

Hughie felt the world come into view in pieces. First there was a searing burn surrounding his very existence, threatening to burn him alive. Then the burn centered on his chest, and the only instinct Hughie had was to try and expel it.

He felt hands shifting him around, pulling him in different ways so that he could vomit the substance easier. Every time Hughie felt like he could take a breath a new wave of fire would hit.

Several objects that were suspiciously hard found their way trapped in his throat; he wasn’t sure who dug around his mouth to fish them out but Hughie owed his life to whoever did so.

Finally, when all the congealed blood and bits of bone had been expelled Hughie could take in full breaths instead of the chocked gasps he had been using before.

He vowed to never take his lungs and the beautiful feeling of filling them with air for granted. With uncoordinated blinks the world started to slide in place around him.

MM was smiling down at him and that answered the question of who was keeping him upright, “holy fuck man.”

Frenchie lunged forward to kiss both of his cheeks, speaking quickly in his own language. He got the sense that Frenchie was putting to words the pure relief that shone through his face.

Kimiko was practically beaming at him; she was signing to him and Hughie knew that he should recognize what she was saying but couldn’t focus long enough to create a translation. However he didn’t need to know exactly what she was saying, the meaning was clear when she was smiling so openly at him.

Past her Butcher was staring at him, completely still except for the way his chest was heaving. His expression was of blatant horror mixed with large dose of disgust, he wasn’t looking at Hughie’s face and if his jaw clenched any harder his teeth may be in danger.

That was what splashed Hughie in a new wave of panic.

“I died.”

Saying the words out loud sparked Hughie into moving, jerking around and clawing at his chest.

“I fucking died! What the fuck?!”

MM was trying to calm him down, gently holding his wrist when Hughie began to scratch at his throat.

“Oh god, oh my god. I was- I!”

His eyes darted around to the others, trying to get them to understand.

Kimiko had a look of understanding that he hadn’t seen from her before and Frenchie was leaving to grab something from the front of the van.

Throughout all of this Butcher hadn’t moved, though his face hardened as he watched Hughie thrash weakly in MM’s hold.

Butcher, who hated Supes of any kind, who still didn’t trust Kimiko or want anything to do with her despite her status as a firm member of the group. He tolerated her because she was useful, a good fighter as well as a good shot.

Hughie wasn’t either of those things, and as such wasn’t needed like she was.

“You’re going to kill me.”

Hughie’s voice shook with the statement, there was little doubt in his mind what Butcher was really thinking when he eyed to closed chest wound. Frenchie moved in front of him, brandishing a needle.

“Petit Hughie, this is going to help you to relax. Do not worry mon amie, it will be alright.”

Hughie thrashed about and the man knew he was babbling, begging the others for so many things but he couldn’t hear his own words.

Would he go in a cage until they decided what to do?

Small but strong hands held his legs down and Hughie felt the prick of the needle going in. His vision blurred almost immediately after, and finally he felt someone push his hair from his face.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It: Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Jensen x Musician!Reader

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part three is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. 

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

WC: 3.5K 

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Jensen was fucking cold.

He didn’t start feeling the chill set into his bones until they made their way back up the beach towards where he left his car. They chatted casually on the walk back, mostly about the festival, and Austin itself, but when they reached her front door he found it hard to say goodbye. Unless he was mistaken, he got the vibe that maybe she didn’t want too, either.

They stood outside her door for another three or four minutes and she finally noticed his body trembling.

“Hey, why don’t you come inside? After all, it is my fault that you’re shivering. I think I have some clothes here that may fit you alright since you’re completely soaked through.”

“It’s fine. I’ll make it back to the hotel alright,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Nonsense, come on. Besides, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year. Might as well start getting used to you being around all the time.” She winked and unlocked the front door.

Stepping into her bungalow, he felt instantly comfortable in her space. The furniture was older, but it was still in decent shape and very cozy. The couch was draped in oversized fleece blankets with a few plush throw pillows. There were nautical decorations, pictures of fishing boats all over the walls, and even the curtains covering the small kitchen window bore anchors and sailboats. A small hallway divided the room, separating the living room from the eat-in kitchen that led to the bedrooms and single bathroom.

“Cute place,” he said after looking around. “Not exactly what I would have imagined your taste to be.”

She laughed. “Not my taste, at all. This was my dad’s house, long before it was mine. I just never wanted to change it after he passed.”

“Oh,” Jensen replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago, but, thanks…” she trailed off for a moment but came back around. “Let me get you those clothes so do you don’t develop pneumonia on my watch.”

Y/N disappeared down the hallway, and Jensen took the time to really look at the pictures that lined the walls. He saw a small girl, and boy slightly older standing with a man in his forties on the dock. Beside them was a fifty-plus foot fishing boat.

“That’s him,” she said upon her return and pointed to the man in the photo. “That’s my dad, Monty, and that was his boat, Song of the Sea.”

“Cool name. That’s you, then?” he asked, pointing to the girl beside Monty.

“Yep, that’s me, and that’s my brother Dave.”

“Is he a fisherman, too?”

“Nope. He’s a dickhead. I don’t know what he does for a living now. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Oh…”

“Clothes,” she said and handed them out to him. “If you’re hungry I have some leftover pizza in the fridge I can warm up. It’s from Saw Mill.”

“I am down for some pizza,” he smiled, feeling quite content with the direction the evening took, despite his dip in the ocean. “Is there a place I could change?”

“Yeah, down the hall, last door on the left.”

Jensen found the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. The room was blessedly warm, allowing his skin to unfreeze the moment the wet clothes had been removed. He borrowed one of the towels that had been hanging on the back of the door and used it to dry his hair. Once he had on the fresh set of clothes, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first chance he had to be alone with his own thoughts since arriving at the Bamboo, and as his own green eyes stared back he didn’t know where to begin processing it all.

Twenty-four hours ago he was laying in his hotel bed, dreaming about some mystery girl, and now he was standing in her house, about to gnaw on some pizza and discuss how she’s going to be working with him over the course of the next year.

Are you out of your fucking mind? He silently asked his reflection. He decided he must be, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily care. When he searched his genuine feelings, the ones he kept very close to the vest, he was happy. He felt good about making her the offer and even better that she accepted it. The other ones, the tangled mess of clingy, fawning emotions that bubbled so close to the surface were the ones he didn’t want.

You can get to know her, be her friend, without it turning to sex. Certainly, no feelings. This is work. She’s smart and creative and will be an asset to the team bringing this to life, he said to himself, almost like a mantra.

Then, out loud. “It can’t be anything more… It. can’t. Whatever you think you feel… you don’t. It's just--”

A soft knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted a beer with your pizza. I have water and some apple juice, or--”

“A beer sounds great,” he replied. “Be out in a minute.”

It was quiet again, and he assumed she must have walked away. Remembering their earlier exchange on the word, he didn’t want to take the chance she would hear him. One beer, one slice of pizza, then back to the hotel and tomorrow back to Vancouver. You got this, his inner voice promised himself.

Two beers and two slices later, Jensen was sitting criss-cross applesauce on Y/N’s floor, with her next to him and a photo album depicting her years in drama club productions in front of them.

“Oh, this one,” she started and pulled it from its plastic sleeve pausing to look at it long enough for one of those soft, reflective smiles to touch her lips. “This is from when we did Grease.”

“That’s you there?”

“Yup. I was the understudy for Sandy. The lead they cast was a healthy specimen, so I got to play one of the Pink Ladies instead.”

“I bet you would have made a kick-ass Sandy,” he teased and took a closer look at the picture.

She snatched it from his fingers and returned it to the album. “Nah, I was way too wild to be Sandy. The girl they cast was purity defined. She did a great job. Frenchie, maybe, or Rizzo… I could have pulled off Rizzo.”

“Now we’re talking. Rizzo, she was my favorite. I always had a thing for the bad girls,” he mused with a devilish grin before finishing off his second beer.

“Want another?” Y/N asked and got up from the floor.

Jensen considered it and waved her off. “Nah, I should probably get back to the hotel.”

“Right…” she mumbled and opened the fridge to grab herself another beer. “I mean, it's after two. If you wanna crash in the spare bedroom, it's open.”

“You’d be okay with that?” He watched her reaction closely. Yes, they had grown close in the day they spent together, and he was oddly comfortable with the idea of crashing at her place. But he didn’t want to seem as if he was continually pushing himself on her.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“Not sick of me yet?”

“I was sick of you after you spilled the tea all over the table. But,” she paused to shrug and grab a second beer from the fridge. She handed it to him and continued, “now, I dunno, I’m kinda used to ya.”

“Alright, sleepover it is,” he chuckled and sipped at his beer.

He liked Y/N, a lot. Physical attraction aside, she was someone he enjoyed spending time with. She made things easy; the business talk, the ‘get-to-know-you’ banter, all of it. Y/N made just sitting on her floor looking at old pictures fun, and that wasn’t something he’d had much of in his life, as of late. All the drama, and push ‘n pull with Dee has sucked him dry. Fun and easy going hadn't been on his radar in a damn long time.

Jensen was growing more than a little curious about her. She was a mystifying puzzle that he felt compelled to put together so he could see the whole picture of who she was. Yet, he also knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task. Y/N didn’t strike him as the kind of girl that would give away all her secrets or feelings to just anyone. He was going to have to work on it, but if their day together so far had been an indication of her willingness to one day let him in, he felt pretty confident that they could be really good friends.

“So, I gotta ask…” he started, not exactly hesitant on asking, but on how to ask what he wanted to know. “Earlier, when you dared me to polar plunge… why add the song in?”

“Joy to the World?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N closed the album and drew in a subtle and slow deep breath, drawing her knees up into her chest then taking time to consider how to respond. In the quiet of the room, she found Jensen’s eyes and held on to them. He saw hers growing damp at the corners and watched her ignore the one, lone tear that slid down her cheek.

“When I was a kid, I had a bunch of phobias. Some were normal, some, not so much. It got really bad after a while, and my dad tried everything to help me. One day, we were going to the market, and for some reason I was so, so scared to go in. It was summer vacation, and I was gawky and awkward. A bunch of Bennies were hanging out in front and I was petrified to walk past them,” she saw the confusion on his face and clarified. “Bennies are what locals here call the people that come here for the summer.”

Jensen nodded in understanding and then unknowingly mimicked her position and rested his chin on his knees as he listened on.

“Anyway, he said to me… ‘they aren’t going to say a word. I promise’. I said that I didn’t believe him. Trust was scarce in those days. My mom had just left, and everything was upside down. So I even had trouble trusting my dad, the one person I loved more than anyone in the world. He said, ‘Y/N, I’ll bet you anything they don’t’. We finally came to the arrangement that if I was wrong and he was right, then I had to give him the benefit of the doubt the next time something like this came up.”

“And if you were right?” Jensen asked.

“Well, I then got to embarrass him in public by making him walk around and sing Joy to the World. It was the song he hated the most,” she laughed at some long ago memory that she kept to herself, and lingered in it for a while. “But, I don’t know, it just became our thing… he’d say trust me and when it was super important that I did, he would simply say, ‘I bet you Joy to the World that I’m right’.”

Y/N cleared her throat and tightened the grip she had around her legs. This time when she caught Jensen’s gaze, he noticed the tears had finished falling and that her soft smile was directed at him.

“That’s how I knew I could accept this offer and trust you. You did it without question. The fact that you sang the song and committed like you did… I knew my dad would’ve told me to trust you. He would have bet--”

“The world,” Jensen finished for her.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So, did he have to sing it that first day?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nope. They didn’t even give me a second glance as we walked by.”

“Did he ever have to sing it?”

She lapsed into her contemplative expression, but only for a moment before bringing up her alluring (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Only once. But that’s a story for another time. I think we should take the opportunity to talk about Austin and when this is all going to happen.”

For another hour Jensen and Y/N talked and planned her move to Austin. Exhaustion was finally setting in and neither of them could keep their eyes open. Y/N showed him to the spare room and turned to walk back up the hallway to her own room. Jensen said goodnight, and before he could turn to go it, he saw her pause at her door and look back at him.

“Jensen... I’m sorry if I was cold to you when we first met. I tend to put up a pretty high wall sometimes. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ok, good. I’m glad the day went the way it did. You surprised me. Not many people can surprise me. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not a shitty actor,” she said with a playful twitch of a smile. “Night, Hollywood.”

Jensen woke a few hours after going to bed and while he wasn’t exactly rested, the four hours he got was enough to energize him to reach the airport. It was a long flight back to Vancouver after all, plenty of time to sleep then. He didn’t want to miss his last chance to see an East Coast sunrise.

Tiptoeing through the bungalow, so as not to wake Y/N, he quietly opened the front door and stepped out into the autumn air. The day was dawning bright with a cotton candy sunrise over the ocean and barely a cloud in sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he heard Y/N say.

He whipped around and saw her sitting on the small bench to the side of the house. She had a blanket around her shoulder and a steaming cup in her hands.

“Coffee?” she asked, holding it out to him.

“Bless you,” he sighed gratefully and took the cup. To his surprise, he found she took hers just how he liked his.

She moved over on the bench giving him room to sit and watch the sunrise. He closed his eyes and relished in the luscious taste of the coffee as it warmed his throat.

“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.

“Keep it, that was my third cup,” she chuckled, then reached over to the side of the bench and pulled up her guitar resting it on her lap and lightly strumming the strings.

“Won’t the neighbors complain?”

“They would, but there aren’t any. All these places are summer rentals. Closest year-round neighbors are the Sinatra’s down the beach.”

“Seriously? So, it's just you out here almost all year long?”

“Yup.” She nodded and continued to strum the guitar. The melody she was plucking was familiar, and after a few more beats Jensen came to recognize it.

“That song…” he started and then felt his heart start to beat faster as he realized where he remembered it from. “Its… shit!”

“Well, damn, tell me how you really feel,” she snorted, unsure if she should be offended or laugh.

“No! I Didn't mean it like that. I can’t remember the name of it, but it's familiar as hell. Actually heard it in a dream the other night,” he admitted without realizing how close he came to adding ‘a dream about you, in fact’.

“Oh! It's from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, but like, way slower,” she shrugged. “After talking about the play with you last night, it got stuck in my head. I couldn’t sleep, so I made coffee, grabbed the guitar and came outside to wait for sunrise.”

Y/N looked away from the guitar and over to Jensen. She watched him curiously for a moment, still playing, and with each passing note the song became clearer and clearer in his head. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and he wondered if she felt whatever it was that sat between them. In the span of thirty seconds, he had at least a dozen “I wonder” thoughts cross his mind.

...if her heart is pounding, too

...if she dreamed the song, too

...if she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her

“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control,” she sang, in a breathy whisper that matched the volume of her guitar. “Cause the power you're supplying….”

Her voice gave him goosebumps across his skin, running from his wrist all the way to his neck.

She trailed off with singing but continued the humming the melody as she plucked the chords and brought her gaze to settle out on the horizon. Jensen wished she had kept singing; he wanted to beg her too, but he was afraid that speaking would break the magic of the moment.

From the other side of the yard, a loud buzzing was coming from Jensen’s car. His brow furrowed trying to recognize what it was, then suddenly jumped up and put the cup down on the bench before jogging through the cold sand to the car. When he came back, his cell was in hand as he was scrolling through messages.

“Completely forgot about this last night,” he mumbled to himself. “Yiiikes.”

“Missed a lot, did ya?” she asked, still strumming.

“Yeah. Looks like there was a change in my flight again. Jared has called at least half a dozen times, and about five texts from work. Good times.”

“Sorry I took you off the grid. Just blame me,” Y/N shrugged.

He watched her for a second and realized how carefree and easy she could be when she was comfortable around someone. There was an aura of calm that surrounded her at times and he wanted to absorb it like a sponge. He felt settled around her, and that was something he could get used too.

“I’m not even a little sorry, though, I guess I should get my ass in gear and get back. But…” he trailed off and went back to his phone, pulling up his calendar, “let’s figure out exactly when I should book your ticket to Austin.”

Y/N stopped strumming and gently rested the guitar on the ground beside the bench. She thought for a minute before replying. “I would need at least two weeks to get my shit together and tie up loose ends. So, let’s say, the 18th?”

“Yeah, that works for me. I may be in Vancouver, but I will make sure everything is all set for you.”

Before Y/N could say anything else, his phone started buzzing again. He answered it and began pacing between the house and the car. To give him some privacy, Y/N grabbed her guitar and went back into the bungalow.

Not five minutes later, Jensen came back inside and began to gather up the rest of his stuff to change, but she waved him off. “You can wear those back. Just junk them when you’re there. They belonged to my brother. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she snarked, making it clear brother Dave was a sore subject.

“Alright, well, I guess I should head back. I got the 18th in my calendar, and I will call you when I have more details about the flight and apartment. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”

“Same here,” she said and boosted herself to sitting on her kitchen counter. “It's gonna be a good time.”

Jensen had hoped she would see him to the door, and maybe even get a chance to touch her in some way; a handshake, maybe a hug, even. But she didn’t budge from the counter and he wasn't going to push her boundaries.

“Thanks for last night, the whole thing was a lot of fun.” Picking up the car keys from the table he moved towards the door, pausing one last time in hopes she’d come to him,

“It was my pleasure. The guys loved having you at the Bamboo. Save travels, ok? I’ll see you in two weeks.”

And just like that, Jensen felt discouraged, like maybe he had imagined their connection this whole time… had he? He tossed the keys up and caught them, and gave her a firm nod.

“Yes, I will. Two weeks. Take care, Y/N. We’ll talk soon.”

When he was sure she wouldn’t budge, he slipped out of the house and exhaled a rush of air from his lips when he reached the car. He got in, started it up and quickly backed down the dirt lane. Pausing before reversing out to the main drag, he threw it into park and rested his head against the headrest.

“You’re a jackass,” he mumbled to himself. “A grade A, idiotic, jackass.”

Hours later, while Jensen was mid-flight, pensive and unsure, obsessively replaying their entire day and night together, his cell phone started to vibrate from way down in his pocket. When he unlocked it and saw the text notification, he smiled.

From Y/N: “Hope you landed safely. Don’t wanna lose the job before it starts. Take care, Hollywood. Can’t wait for the 18th”

And just like that, he was smiling again.

Good new is, you don’t have to wait long for Part Four!! Its already done and ready to post. Will have it up soon :)

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[badly-drawn-piplup]

An Overabundance of Katherines Chapter Sixteen

I shook my head. Whatever came over Mat, other me, and I (which I guess would be me?) passed. I was free as a bird who just happened to be named Kat. Kat the bird...that had a nice ring to it. I would have to think about using that name the next chance I get.

″WHY DOES THIS HOSPITAL HAVE A CONCERT FLOOR?″ Mat screamed. He must have figured it was the only thing he could do. He was brave. Braver than I. My heart went chika-chika-boom-boom with every step I took forward. I knew that there were zombies close behind us. Perhaps even close in front of us. I looked around for good measure. No zombies on either side. We might have been fine!

″That is a good question,″ other me jotted down verbally, looking at the floor in want of a pencil and paper. ″You would think a hospital's funds would be better allocated toward medical treatment and not a stage for loud music to be played.″

″Yeah, well that would require logic on our part, something that Katherines clearly lack,″ Mat pointed out. I was about to slap Mat for such a comment when Mat added ″well, I guess I am half-illogical, being half-Katherine and all.″

I smiled. Mat was finally realizing his self-worth.

″So, what's the plan, o great Kat?″ Asked the other me, who was beginning to realize my self-worth after only noticing her own beforehand.

I stole her glasses and lab coat for a bit and explained.

″I watched the end of Grease the other night.″ After the air was clear, I placed her glasses back on her face and gave her a passionate kiss for no discernible reason.

So that just happened. I kissed myself. Well, I didn't kiss anything. I was kissed by myself. I would have been more uncomfortable, but I was a little overjoyed once I pieced together what Kat's plan was.

″Why do I have to be Sandra Dee?″ Mat complained, being ever so stubborn. It's not like he had any right to complain. We were getting dressed behind the stage and zombies could show up and peep on us at any moment.

″Because it's a well known fact that I'm a greaser, and thus, must be John Travolta,″ I casually explained even though I shouldn't have bothered because who goes out of their way to explain something so painfully obvious?

″I concur,″ concurred other me. It was only two words, but it meant exactly what it was meant to mean.

″I don't know what concur means, but I'm glad you agree with me,″ I reassured myself until I could hear the other me sigh with such force that the only conclusion to be made was that it was a sigh of approval. All was going according to plan.

ALL WAS NOT GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN. STOP LISTENING TO SUCH A FOOL. IF YOU THINK WE WERE SAFE YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN. KAT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A SMIDGE OF A PLAN. DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SMIDGE IS? DO YOU? DO YOU?

I cleared my throat as I prepared for the role of Sandra Dee. Inhale, exhale. I was nowhere near a good singer, but I knew I could get one thing out.

″HOW IN THE FUDGE IS SINGING A SONG GOING TO STOP A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?″ I screamed at the top of my lungs, and if I was lucky, at the top of the neighboring girls and zombies' lungs as well.

The Kat from an alternate universe paced around with her index finger on her index chin. She jotted some things down on Kat's notebook, the Kat I was more familiar with, for better or for worse. Then she looked up and spoke, still pacing.

″You see, a song from Grease was what triggered the zombie response in Katherines. So it would only make sense that a song from Grease would undo the zombification and return everyone to normal.″

My mouth was agape. My costume was agape. My hair was agape. The grapes on a neighboring table were also, in fact, agape.

″That makes...no sense.″

″Maybe not to you, but to a Katherinologist, it's the most logical conclusion.″

″Since when are there Katerinologists?″ What world am I living in? Why do I bother questioning things?

″Never mind that. We need to set up the speakers so the zombies can hear us.″

I didn't help the two Kats set up the speakers. I wanted to, but my mind started drifting to me. It felt like a part of me was missing. Particularly, me from an alternate universe. And by part, I mean, several parts that have been devoured by zombies all named Katherine. It just wasn't right. But when life gives you Katherines...

While Mat over there was likely busy emoting, which I totally don't judge him for, but it's really unfair that we're doing all the work while he just stands there, myself and I were busy setting up speakers for the show.

″You think this will work, Kat?″ Me asked me.

″Yeah, I think it will,″ I replied to myself.

″But why this song in particular? I know a song is what turned the Katherines into zombies in the first place, but wouldn't a different song be more fitting?″ I was asked by me.

″Trust me on this one. I would say why, but then the zombies might hear us and devise a counterplan. We can't have that.″

″But the zombies will hear us when the song starts, right?″

″Duh. If we perform and no one's around to see or hear it, did it really happen?″

Damn, I'm so deep sometimes.

Everything was all ready to go except for one thing: there were no zombies to watch us perform. It should have struck me as odd sooner that we had been safe up to that point, but it never quite clicked: the zombies didn't think to look for us on the 20th floor because they were all on the 18th floor and there was no 19th floor. There never was a 19th floor. Why wasn't there a 19th floor?

Sorry.

I digress. The me from this world, who was calling herself ″Kat the Bird″ for no discernible reason, realized the mistake as well, and rectified it.

She grabbed a large tapestry, one that could potentially lead to many parallel universes, but couldn't really.

She grabbed a marker. But not just any marker. One that didn't bleed through the other side of the tapestry and was very soft to the touch when you pressed it down on the paper. She had me write with the marker even though she was the one who grabbed it and not me. She, being the Kat with the plan, told me what to write.

Me, not she, but I am she, too, placed the banner on the ceiling. It read:

ALL YOU CAN EAT BRAINS

on the

20TH FLOOR

Ingenious. Truly ingenious. Within seconds, droves of zombies flooded the venue. There were murmurs amongst the zombies. I could hear things like ″I heard there would be brains,″ and ″all you can eat, too.″

Kat, the one that you all know and love (that's not me), stepped up to the stage from behind the curtains and coughed into the mic, likely to check to see if it was turned on. It was. The zombies were frothing at the teeth just from the sound of a cough.

″I GOT CHILLS, THEY'RE MULTIPLYING,″ Kat screeched as if someone had stepped on her right foot and then stepped on her left for good measure. It was like dropping a box of nails in the middle of a board meeting.

I was standing on the rafters, my work being done. I couldn't quite leave this world just yet, though. Not when I had to make sure this concert went off without a hitch.

″AND I'M LOSING CONTRO-OI-L,″ Kat tried spitting out, having trouble with her enunciation. Singing wasn't exactly my strong suit, but luckily for us all, the zombies were tone deaf.

″'CAUSE THE POWER YOU'RE SUPPLYIN',″ she continued, though clearly running out of breath. I tried messing with the fuse box so that the sound could be amplified further, but accidentally caused a spark which knocked me off the ladder and I ended up falling on the singing Kat, which cushioned my fall about 25%.

″IT'S ELECTRIFYING!″ She screamed and collapsed to the floor. Luckily for us both, Mat stepped up, doing the best Sandra Dee ever.

″YOU BETTER SHAPE UP!″ He instructed us both and we scrambled to our feet.

″'CAUSE I NEED A MAN!″ He commanded and pointed to the audience. Amongst all the zombies was a zombified Mat from my own universe. My universe's Mat was in pretty bad shape but upon hearing that line of lyric made an instant recovery, limbs and all, and jumped onto the stage, becoming the Mat I and the rest of my town knows and loves.

″AND MY HEART IS SET ON YOU!″ Mat as Sandra Dee took Mat as...Mat by the hand and the two started dancing. ″YOU BETTER SHAPE UP! YOU BETTER UNDERSTAND!″ Mat continued, outshining Kat in the singing department. We all shaped up and started dancing. The zombies in the audience started dancing. We were all dancing. It was a good time.

But then, standing in plain sight was a scientist bruised and covered in blood, who threw a discus and knocked the lights out.

″TO MY HEART I MUST BE TRUE!″ The scientist cackled. We didn't even have to see who it was. We all knew: Dr. Frenchie.

We scrambled around the stage, trying to avoid this discus that seemed to have a mind of its own. I noticed something. It wasn't a discus. It was a wheel. Also, it made a moaning sound. That's when I noticed: it was powered by zombie Katherines. It was a Katherine wheel.

Dr. Frenchie jumped onto the stage and held the Katherine wheel with a firm and astute grip.

″NOTHIN' LEFT, NOTHIN' LEFT FOR ME TO DO!″ Dr. Frenchie declared and before we knew it, the surviving scientists showed up, ready to kill us along with the army of zombies who were previously dancing. Also we had to deal with the Katherine wheel, lest we forget.

″YOU'RE THE ONE THAT I WANT!″ The Flashbulb members chanted, ganging up on us.

″OO-OO-OOO,″ chimed in the zombies. I rolled my eyes. We really didn't need their input.

Still, we weren't about to give up the fight, so Mat, Mat, Kat, and I (also Kat), snapped our fingers.

″HONEY, THE ONE THAT I WANT!″ We stepped forward with poise in our eyes.

″OO-OO-OOO,″ the zombies added, this time getting more in the groove and adding ″you are the one that I want″ every so often for added effect.

I looked over to myself, to which I looked at me. We gave each other a determined smile and knew that we had to keep this song up. For the sake of Katherinekind.

[rather-impertinent]

Goodbyes

A/N: Hi friends so I decided to something a lil different because Ross and Dwight’s bromance gives me life so basically you have 2 fics for the price of 1 lmao. Hope you like it! xo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ross re-entered the inn and saw Dwight and Caroline, hand in hand, approaching the door. So they had reconciled after all.

"Ross!" Dwight said in surprise.

"I forgot my papers." He explained.

Caroline decided the two of them should have a moment to say goodbye. "I will wait upstairs." She tried to say this casually, but Ross noticed the shy mischievous glance exchanged between the two of them. "Goodbye, Ross." She placed a chaste kiss to his cheek and headed for the stairs.

"Will you really go to war?" Dwight asked him.

He struggled with it. "I feel it is my duty. Am I not a soldier?"

"Surely your duty is to your family?" countered Dwight, utterly perplexed by his friend's actions. Ross' gaze dropped the floor, almost in shame, and when he made no attempt to argue Dwight decided to speak up. "Ross, you have helped me today and so now I feel I am obliged to help you. I hope you will not consider what I am about to say an impertinence."

Ross nodded for him to continue. Dwight, hesitant, took a deep breath.

"I do not know what has happened between you and Demelza, nor truthfully do I believe I wish to know, but surely it cannot be worth going to war for? Is all hope truly lost? You have married an exceptional woman in Demelza, she has strength beyond her years and time.” He hesitated slightly before continuing. “Surely the tension that exists between you now, for whatever reason, cannot outweigh the overall harmoniousness of your marriage? And what of Jeremy? Is he to grow up without a father supposing you perish in France? How could Demelza hope to provide for them both without you? Do you wish them to rely upon Mr. Carne? I most assuredly do not.”

This struck a chord with Ross whose head snapped up, alert. He was not aware that Dwight knew of Demelza's mistreatment.

"Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Ross, but this could very well be the last conversation we ever have.” He swallowed hard at the thought. “I implore you to return home immediately and make things right with Demelza. I believe you told me not one hour ago that life holds very few things which are genuinely worth having. You already possess all of those things and more, Ross, and you must fight to keep them."

Ross could not deny that Dwight's eloquent speech had significantly dented his armour, but Ross, being himself, simply replied: "I promise to think on it."

When he knew he could say no more, Dwight offered his hand. Ross took it and shook it firmly. "I will not forget all you've done for me, Ross. I will never forget what I owe you, and I cannot thank you enough."

"Nor I you, Dwight," Ross responded in kind, pulling Dwight into a tight embrace and placing several encouraging pats on his back. "Goodbye, my friend. God speed. Pray, go be with Caroline."

Dwight smiled, he needed no encouragement. The mention of Caroline made him grow serious, however. "Ross, if the worst should happen… I ask you to take care of her.”

Ross nodded sincerely. “We will,” he promised.

Dwight placed a fond hand on Ross’ shoulder before he headed towards the stairway. “Goodbye, my friend."

/

The following morning, Dwight was roused from the best night’s sleep he’d had in years as Caroline ungraciously entered the room with a breakfast tray. She appeared to be struggling with the weight of it and was carrying it rather awkwardly, resulting in half of the teapot’s contents emptying onto the silver tray.

“Ssshhhhh!” she told the cups as they clinked together when she sat it down on the dressing table.

Despite his efforts, a laugh escaped from Dwight’s lips. Caroline whirled around to face him. “Is something amusing, Dr. Enys?”

He rose from the bed, half dressed, and closed the distance between them. Smiling as he placed his hands on her fully clothed hips, he replied: “No, ma’am.” before claiming her lips.

She smiled as they broke apart and ran her hand, which was now decorated with an impromptu ring, across his bare chest. How drastically her life had changed in a mere 24 hours. She found that if she thought on it too long, she could scarce breathe. Her attention was drawn to the navy uniform splayed out across the floor, sticking out like a thorn in her side, determined to ruin her chance at happiness. With his face mere inches from her own, she hastily blinked back the tears that had begun to spring to her eyes. It would not do to distress him.

“Tea?” she offered weakly.

“Thank you.” he said, moving to pour it.

They enjoyed their first breakfast together and spoke of last night and their excitement to be married on his first shore leave.

Then, there was a knock at the door. Dwight froze, his blood running cold. Caroline, calm and collected, rose from the bed and walked over to the door.

“Caroline, what are you doing?” he hissed quietly.

She ignored him entirely and peeled back the door expectantly. “Thank you, Hicks,” she said, taking something from her. “Dwight, there is someone who wishes to say goodbye to you.”

He stood up, now fully clothed aside from his neckcloth, and laughed. “Horace!” Horace approached Dwight aggressively, yipping and yapping until he had reached his feet. He began sniffing enthusiastically and, once content that this was Dr. Enys, splayed his plump body at his feet and awaited his usual belly rubs. Dwight obliged.

Caroline laughed at them both, amazed that Horace had not forgotten Dwight over these past few months. She committed the image to memory. “I believe Horace has been indulged enough,” she said, picking Horace’s chubby body off of the floor. “Shall we return you to Hicks? We shall see Uncle Ray later, my precious,” she said excitedly. She opened to door and handed him to Hicks, who said: “Ma’am, the soldiers are going to the harbour now.”

“Oh.” Something lurched inside of her. “Thank you, Hicks,” she said weakly as she closed the door. “The soldiers are going to the harbour now,” she repeated, her back to Dwight.

“Ah, then I suppose I’d best join them.” The evenness of his voice almost angered her, how could he be so unfazed? Little did she know he had been swallowing a continuous lump in this throat for the past 13 hours. He began to tie his neckcloth and spoke up: “Caroline, you must return to your uncle immediately, do not stay to watch the ship sail. I do not wish you to.”

“I wish it,” she said, in her usual persuasive tone. Dwight decided not to contest as he did not wish what might be some of their last words to each other to be angry ones.

They walked the five minutes to the harbour in strained silence, each contemplating what was to come. Once they had found the HMS Travail, Dwight turned to face her. She raised her hands to straighten his neckcloth. “I must say you do look very handsome in uniform.”

Dwight smiled bashfully. “You flatter me.”

“I do not. But you mustn’t allow the Frenchies to flatter you. No French Rosina’s.” she warned teasingly. They both laughed.

How he would miss her laugh.

“Surgeon-Lieutenant Enys?” a voice came from behind them. “We be abroadin’ now, Sur.” Dwight raised a hand in acknowledgment.

It was as if all traces of happiness had been sucked from the world and they were now enveloped by an awful silence. The moment they had been dreading had finally come.

Dwight spoke first, clearing his throat in an effort to remove the now ever-present lump: “Well, goodbye, my love.” He moved to embrace her but she took a step back. If he touched her she was finished.

“Goodbye, Dwight. Pray, come back to me. You do not wish me to die an old maid, do you?” she said lightly, always finding a way to downplay her emotions in a bid to control them.

“I do not.” he smiled momentarily. Then, he took her hand and stared at her, his face sincere, and said: “I do love you so very much.”

The pink light of dawn accentuated the earnestness in his pale blue eyes. She took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately, her fingers tracing his jaw line as if she had the notion to paint it from memory later. They broke and rested their foreheads against one another’s, breathless. “I love you, too,” she breathed onto his lips.

With one last kiss and nothing more to say, Dwight pulled himself away from her and embarked the gangway. Once the ship began to move, he flashed a smile at her and waved goodbye. Caroline waved until she was certain he could no longer see her. She cursed as she impatiently wiped the tears that poured mercilessly from her eyes.

With new resolve, she started towards her awaiting carriage. She would not spend the next however many months sobbing as if she were already a widow. Instead, she would tend to her beloved uncle, visit Captain Poldark and his charming wife and do all the societal things expected of a young heiress – while attempting to ignore the dull ache in her heart which would no doubt be present until his return.