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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years ago

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 12 - Willie Alone

Summary: Sunset Curve AU, Willex, will he make it?, 5.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Day one down with no Caleb. Purple began to border the horizon. Hours of skating broken up with brief rests had Willie pretty tired. Sheldon seemed to be holding up pretty alright, even if he was stuck in the funny makeshift carrier Willie had made from a t-shirt to wrap around himself. Whatever town he’d stopped in was a little ways from the interstate, but it was nice being in a smaller place than a city for once. He actually couldn’t remember if he’d ever been to one.

Willie skated up to a cafe that doubled as an ice cream parlor and let Sheldon down on the ground. He hooked a leash to the cat’s collar but let it drag along the ground, knowing he would be followed. Entering the cafe, he sat at a table and leaned on its surface in exhaustion.

The night before already felt like so long ago. He’d spent all day debating whether it was smart to skate along the highway because it was an easier route to follow, or if he should take some back roads because they had less traffic and likely no cops. Seeing that shed light up was unforgettable. Willie hadn’t watched too many movies since he’d lost his memories, but it was a moment that had definitely felt like he was in one. Did he count as a fugitive now? He sort of liked the flavor of mystery and adventure that came with it.

Sheldon was up on his hind legs, pawing at Willie’s knees to let him climb up. Sitting back so his cat could leap into his lap, Willie cradled him with one arm. He thought about getting some ice cream and realized that he already missed the chamoy candy from Escobar’s bodega. It would’ve been nice to have a few more snacks on him. He’d get something in a little bit - standing up was going to make him feel sore.

He wondered how Alex was doing. He’d chosen to go to L.A. in the hopes of at least finding him and the rest of his friends. That sense of closeness and familiarity that Willie had felt when they were at the Pearl had become everything to him. Even Julie and Flynn would be great to meet again - in fact, he wished he could give them something in return for allowing him the second chance he’d needed to find Alex. Then he could figure out where to go from there.

Finally getting up from his seat, he approached the counter for some ice cream, leaving Sheldon held down by putting a chair leg through the leash handle. A girl who looked too young to be working there came to serve him.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” she said politely.

Willie looked down at all the flavors underneath the glass. What he wanted to do was climb inside and get the cool-off he really needed.

“Uhhh...how about the - ” his eyes narrowed to be sure he was getting it right. “ - the swass?” As far as he could see it claimed to be a white chocolate flavor with cayenne pepper in it. He’d never heard of a spicy ice cream before.

The girl giggled behind the glass.

“How many scoops?” she asked, barely containing laughter.

“Two scoops, in a waffle cone,” he said, watching as she got it prepared. “What’s so funny?”

They traded hands as she gave him the cone and he gave her cash.

“Swass is short for sweaty ass. It’s a summer special.”

Willie snorted and laughed along with her.

“Nice!” he said, pointing a finger to accentuate the word. She held a handful of coins out to him. “Don’t worry about it, keep the change.”

Mood now lifted by his ‘swass’ ice cream (which was surprisingly delicious once he began licking it), he went back to the table. Sheldon kept watching him, eyes hungry for the unfamiliar substance. Willie watched in mild entertainment for a moment as he continued eating. Then he got the idea to move the ice cream around, seeing Sheldon’s eyes follow wherever it went. It made him giggle.

Holding the cone within reach of Sheldon’s face, he let the cat sniff at it for a moment before daring to take a lick. After a few more licks, Sheldon sat back with his mouth wide open in shock, and Willie felt bad for laughing.

“Did you get a brain freeze, buddy?”

Sheldon looked betrayed, and crawled underneath the chair and began cleaning his face. Some noise caught Willie’s attention and he looked up to see a small TV set up in a corner of the cafe. The news was on, and while he couldn’t clearly make out what was being said, he saw footage of a building in flames while a fire department was trying to put it out. Fear clenched in his chest as he recognized it. Lifting Sheldon’s leash, he immediately got up from his chair and headed out the door.

So avoiding public places was going to be the plan from now on. He didn’t know what was being told on that news story but considering that was definitely the shed from behind Caleb’s place...arson had awful consequences, and Willie didn’t like his odds. It certainly put a wedge in his plan to find shelter, but he could get creative.

Grabbing his board, Willie skated through the streets and checked out his best options while finishing his ice cream. It was getting late, and businesses were closing quickly. He didn’t fancy staying anywhere outside, mostly for the safety of his cat. After getting a good look around the town (or most of it at least), Willie had to pick between the movie theater or the laundromat.

He thought of trying the theater. The seats would be perfect to sleep in, and the dark stillness of an empty theater at night sounded so relaxing. But there was the question of getting in without having to buy a ticket or being kicked out after a movie was finished. That was likely to cause enough fuss with the employees for them to identify him. Scratch that off the list.

Willie made his way to the laundromat, albeit unwillingly. It was the only place open for twenty-four hours with no one to bother him about why he was there. As he went inside with Sheldon, he peered up at the yellow lights. There had to be a dark corner somewhere. A handful of loads were going, and they were all spread out so that the noise would bother him no matter what. However, a door toward the back caught his attention and he checked to see if it was locked.

To his surprise, it opened to reveal an empty office. He flipped on the light to get a better look. There was only a desk, chair, and empty bookshelves, as if whatever it was used for had been decommissioned or moved elsewhere. Dragging a finger over the desk, a layer of dust came off. The room didn’t look like anyone would check for a person in there, so Willie decided it was where he’d make camp.

Luckily enough, there was a lost and found area with the laundry of people who’d somehow forgotten to pick up their loads. Finding a blanket in the pile, Willie made sure Sheldon was inside the office with him before turning the light out and shutting the door. It blocked out the noise of the machines well enough. Using his backpack as a pillow, he laid down and pulled the blanket over him as best he could and sighed.

Thinking back to earlier when he’d celebrated being a fugitive...well, it certainly had its cons. As Sheldon nestled on top of his legs, Willie chuckled softly and tried to focus on falling asleep. The backwards dream was bound to happen again, and he wondered if anything about it would change now that he knew what it was really about. Aside from his memories of Alex and his dad, it was the best motivator he had now. He closed his eyes and let the sound of purring lull him to sleep.

Day three without Caleb. Note to self: never underestimate the amount of sunscreen, food and water needed on a trip, and bring a map. Packing light was a mistake. Willie was avoiding the highway now, but had taken a wrong turn somewhere after passing through that small town and thought he’d found somewhere to get back on track, but only ended up more turned around than ever. Now he was skating for miles on some back road with no cars or civilization in sight and was getting worried. He was rationing the water between him and Sheldon, and now that it was high afternoon and the July sun was beating down, he was worried. The food he had packed for himself was already gone, and he was pretty sunburnt.

He’d originally decided not to hitchhike because he didn’t want to be recognized and turned in, but now he was considering it was safer than wherever he was right then. If the laundromat had been rough, rest stops were much less desirable to sleep in.

Slowing his board down, he moved to the side of the road for a minute and set Sheldon down on the ground so they could both stretch their legs. These past few days had been hard, but he was determined to never go back to Caleb. He felt more like himself and a new person all at once, more than he had ever felt since he’d lost his memories. Even with desperation creeping under his skin, he didn’t regret it one bit. Sheldon rubbed against his legs and Willie opened his backpack and dug for some food.

“Here you go, buddy,” he murmured, laying the food down and massaging the back of the cat’s neck. “You sure are handling this better than me.”

All he got in response was content purring. Willie was grateful he wasn’t entirely alone. It wasn’t a usual thing for cats to travel, right? He wondered what made Sheldon so special.

Pulling out his water bottle, Willie saw that it was down to a mere gulp. As if to punctuate his disappointment, his stomach growled loudly. This was beginning to feel like more than a low point. The pain and fatigue started increasing as he sat in the dust, the notion of how lost he was settling in uncomfortably. Shaking the water bottle, Sheldon perked up and watched him pour some into his hand before licking it up.

Finishing the last of it, Willie was hardly satisfied. It was better than nothing. The heat was getting unbearable, though, and with how tired he felt it was a hard debate whether he should take a nap or keep trying to find shelter.

Stubbornly trying not to imagine the worst, Willie reminded himself of his goal. Find Alex, find somewhere to stay, and play it by ear from there. He even teased the thought of finding out if he still had a family. That didn’t sound likely, especially with the amnesia factored in, but this was the first time he could dare to dream bigger than the small life he’d had back in Vegas. If he did make it, it was all worth the strain he was feeling right now.

If - such a laconic, dooming word.

His legs felt too much like jelly to attempt riding again, though, and he pulled Sheldon into his lap. The cat made a few funny chirping noises at him.

“Sorry, buddy, I’m too tired,” he apologized. All the rubs against his shirt couldn’t renew his strength fast enough. Willie felt tears well up in his eyes and he couldn’t tell if they were from fear or exhaustion. Only a couple fell and immediately dried on his face.

He tried summoning the memory of Alex’s eyes, letting the ocean waves bring hope in a dire attempt to fight everything else. Their rhythm and focus remained preserved so well in his mind. If the world was made of hard, painful, unbearable things, Alex was the softness of respite. From bandaging his hand to running his fingers through his hair in comfort, there was a gentleness that made Willie believe in something greater than one day in Sin City. The waves grew and he dreamed of being washed clean and refreshed and like he could leave his soul at the shore forever and never be hurt.

They crashed over him again and again, like a lullaby. The sensation dulled the pain until he was numb. Nothing remained but the beautiful sea of green before him.

Willie didn’t know when he passed out or for how long, but he was jolted awake by feeling his body hitch up and down, like he’d gone over a bump. He heard the running of an engine and opened his eyes. A window beside him was down, and he looked directly into his own reflection in the rearview mirror of a truck. Turning to his left, he saw a person at the steering wheel through bleary eyes.

“Dad?” he muttered thoughtlessly.

“Sorry,” the voice of an older woman spoke. “Not your dad.”

Willie only blinked as he tried to orient himself. The woman had salt and pepper hair styled in a mullet and looked coarse from years of hard work.

“Pardon me for being blunt, but what the hell were you doing out there?” she rebuked. “With a cat!”

He immediately sat up in alarm, looking for Sheldon.

“He’s fine,” she assured. Willie nodded as he saw the cat sitting on top of a blanket in the back seat next to his skateboard.

“It’s a complicated story,” he told her.

“I bet it’s complicated,” she muttered in slight consternation.

There was a few minutes of silence as Willie’s mind tried to understand where he was.

“Don’t try to thank me,” the woman began speaking again. “It was only so easy to put you up in my truck after I saw you had no water, no food, nothing but a few changes of clothes and a wad of cash.”

“Thank you,” Willie said, embarrassed he hadn’t said it quicker.

“I said don’t thank me; I could’ve taken all your cash.”

He looked at her anxiously until her lip curled.

“Don’t worry, you’ve still got all of it.”

This lady was abrasive, but at least she was kind.

“I’m Bessie,” she said. “And if the name is right in your wallet, you’re William. Bet you go by Willie though.”

“How did you guess?”

“You don’t look like a William kind a’ kid.”

It was amazing how she could hold his attention so well without taking her eyes away from the road. Her intelligence was effective. It kind of made him smile.

“You hungry?” she asked. Her head nodded in the direction of a bag sitting between them. He smelled chicken and he hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between the food and her. “Go on, you can have some. I can eat more when we get to Roy’s.”

“Who’s Roy?” Willie asked, carefully pulling out a chicken wing and biting into it.

“It’s a motel. Me and my husband own it. And it looks like you’ll be our only guest tonight.”

“Oh,” he said through a mouthful of food.

“I apologize, but you need a shower,” she told him, wrinkling her nose. Willie only continued to chew in silence and bowed his head. He’d forgotten about that while he’d been focused on skating his way to freedom.

“So where is this motel at?” he asked after a few moments.

“It’s in Amboy. We’re a little ghost town out here. There’s only five of us, the rest are tourists. Sometimes we get Harrison Ford coming through.”

Willie raised his eyebrows, guessing it was impressive trivia. There were numerous names people used that he seemed to be expected to know, but unfortunately most of them he couldn’t keep track of. He silently ate his chicken, relishing in the taste.

“We’re almost there, so just sit tight and keep eating,” Bessie said.

He noticed she hadn’t mentioned anything about recent news, and while it was possible she knew about it, Willie didn’t think she would hold back her commentary if she did. He decided not to bring it up.

Not even ten minutes later they pulled up to the retro motel. Movement was agony, every bit of his exposed skin on fire. Sheldon lifted his head and meowed in curiosity as Willie opened the back door to get his things. Pulling his backpack over his shoulder, he scooped up Sheldon with one arm and grabbed his board with the other. He felt nervous claws immediately dig into his shoulder and he tried to soothe his cat the best he could.

“Shhh, buddy, it’s okay,” he whispered. It was a good thing he had a leash on.

“I have never seen a cat travelling with a skater before,” Bessie said as he followed her into Roy’s. “The things you get in this little town.”

She took him up to the main desk and pulled out a reservation book, licking her finger to turn the pages.

“Alright, let’s get you a room,” she murmured.

“I can pay to stay here,” Willie said shakily. She’d practically saved his life, and he hadn’t exactly counted how much he took from Caleb, but added onto his own money it was quite a stash. Bessie looked at him thoughtfully.

“If you insist,” she surrendered without argument.

Sheldon was sniffing everything and peering around, obviously wanting to explore.

“You can put him down for a minute, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Bessie told Willie, handing him a key and a bottled substance after he let Sheldon go. “You get yourself washed up and put this aloe on. I suggest you stay for a few days at least so those burns don’t get worse.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Willie heard himself say. Too late, he reconsidered the use of ‘ma’am’ but Bessie only smirked and shook her head. He wondered how often she picked up strangers and set them up at her motel, because she was so well prepared. Glancing at his cat, who was content to swat at some flies that had made their way inside, he went toward the room that matched the number on the key.

Showering hurt, even with cold water, but Willie tried to bear it as best he could. At least applying the aloe wasn’t too bad. He was glad he hadn’t skated with his shirt off because it wouldn’t have been any fun to try reaching certain parts of his back. Looking out the window of his room as he got dressed, the sunset was in its late stages. For a while, he simply sat on his bed and hugged his knees to his chest, watching it go down.

Now that he had time to slow down, Willie felt a huge weight finally lift off of his shoulders. He hadn’t been allowing himself to think about it as much since he was so focused on being on the move and trying to stay safe while he had Sheldon with him. Actually, he didn’t even remember when he’d crossed state lines. But he felt a little safer now. Caleb didn’t care enough to come after him all the way out here, he didn’t think. Burning down the shed had been a little dramatic, he admitted, but once people forgot the news it was probably miniscule in Caleb’s eyes compared to everything Willie had lost.

For a minute, a ball of anger grew inside his chest and Willie closed his eyes and breathed deeply in an attempt to cool it down. It was probably a good idea to take Bessie’s advice and stay a while since he was being given the opportunity. He got up and went back out to see how Sheldon was.

The cafe was quiet except for Bessie speaking on the phone with someone. Sheldon was near the cafe counter where someone had set out a bowl of water and a can of tuna. Willie went over to him and knelt down to pet him. Any motion was still a pain, but he made himself ignore it. Footsteps sounded from behind the counter and Willie looked up to see a large man with a mustache peering down at them. He appeared to be from somewhere in the Pacific Islands.

“You’ve got a nice cat,” the man said.

“Thanks,” Willie replied with a small smile as he continued running his hand from head to tail.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Oh...uh, yeah, thanks.” It was going to take a while to get used to people being kind. As the man left briefly and returned with a glass, Willie graciously took it and sat at a table. Like that, the man had disappeared and he almost questioned whether he’d actually been there.

He saw the napkins on the table and pulled one out of the dispenser. The only thing he’d actually learned how to make with origami was those little frogs, and he never seemed to use a proper piece of paper when he got the urge. Now, he didn’t have anyone to gift it to if he did make one. He sure wasn’t going to hand one to Bessie.

Just as he thought that, she came over to sit across from him.

“So what’s the plan, kid?” she asked, folding her hands casually.

Willie looked at her for a moment, unsure what to explain.

“Come on, something’s gotta motivate you to be going cross country on a skateboard,” she pointed out.

“Well,” he sighed. “I’m trying to get to Los Angeles.”

“And the bus just didn’t do it for you?”

Willie sat back, dumbfounded. Part of him knew that there were bus routes across the states, but he just hadn’t remembered that.

“Yeah, so fun fact about me: I only have a year and a half of memory, and I forgot about busses.”

Bessie raised her eyebrows, and then furrowed them.

“I’ve seen some things, I’ve seen some things, and I have seen some things. You are not something I have seen yet. I won’t ask for what your whole story is, but I can only imagine the convoluted circumstances that got you in your position.”

Willie bowed his head, unsure how he should respond. It was clear that she truly wasn’t aware of the news, though.

“Do you even know what you’ll do when you get to LA?” she asked.

“Not much,” he said, shaking his head. “But I have a start.”

“Please tell me you don’t plan to skate the rest of your way out of here.”

“Well, do I have any other way to get there?”

Bessie pursed her lips as she considered his words.

“I’d have my husband drive you out, but he just went out of town to do some business. We’re actually trying to sell the town, so once he finishes up his deal this place will be out of our hands. I can’t keep you here for long.”

The news made Willie realize just how inconvenient it was for her to have pulled him from the side of the road, and more guilt rose in his chest. He couldn’t keep getting in everyone’s way just by showing up.

“How soon is he supposed to be back?”

“A couple days. And then we’ll spend the rest of this week cleaning up and heading out.”

Feeling something touch his leg, Willie saw Sheldon had finished his can of tuna and come over to him. Picking the cat up and holding him in his lap, he looked at Bessie.

“You’ve been really generous,” he said. “You practically saved my life. I don’t know how to thank you.”

She shrugged.

“Ain’t much you can do but say it, and that’s okay. And maybe just rest enough so you’re in good shape before you get back on the road. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Willie nodded emphatically.

“Alright. Well, I’m going to turn in, but you hang in here as late as you like, although I don’t know what you would do.”

Willie only smiled as she got up from the table. He did the same, carrying Sheldon with him to the room. It was going to be nice having a bed and not being on the move from the second he woke up. Even with his skin continually on fire, he was able to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

The next day he woke up and it was already noon. Sheldon was meowing to be let out the door, intermittently coming up to Willie and nudging him with his head.

“Yeah, I get the hint,” Willie laughed.

He quickly got himself together before hooking the leash to Sheldon and heading into the cafe. There were two men he hadn’t seen the day before eating lunch. It was probably a good idea to eat, considering he had slept through breakfast. The large man with the mustache was at the cafe counter, and Willie was silently relieved he hadn’t hallucinated him. It appeared he had set out the bowls of water and food already for Sheldon, who immediately went to it.

“Hello, little man,” he said as Willie came toward him. “What can Big Bo get for you?”

“Are you Big Bo?” Willie immediately loved the name.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I could eat anything, what do you recommend?”

Big Bo thought for a minute. And then he smiled.

“I’m gonna make you a nice burrito.”

Nodding and smiling, Willie watched him leave as he went to a table and immediately began folding napkins into frogs. After a while his face got itchy, and he realized his skin had begun peeling from the burns. That was going to be fun to handle. Big Bo brought his burrito over and then tried getting attention from Sheldon.

Most of the rest of the day was pretty boring. Willie rotated between doodling on napkins, playing card games with the deck Bessie pulled out from the motel office, and walking around with Sheldon. He was reminded to consistently use the aloe vera he’d been given. Boredom rose to the point where he helped Big Bo deep clean various appliances behind the counter in the cafe. By the time they had finished, it was just time to eat a late dinner and Willie was tired out from all the cleaning.

He took a shower and tried to lightly scrub off all of the dead skin. Sheldon curiously poked his head in and got a faceful of water, causing him to make a surprised noise and run off. Willie couldn’t help but laugh with a twinge of pity as he peeked out and saw his cat glaring at him from the bed. Honestly, he wouldn’t have managed to get this far without Sheldon. It felt good not to be alone, but also feel free to just be himself and still be followed out of sheer loyalty.

The bed was already so comfortable and inviting it made Willie sad that he couldn’t stay longer. Maybe in the future he could recreate something like this place - small and friendly, where he was always prepared to help poor strangers find shelter. There wasn’t much to do here, but he could play around with ideas for his own thing. He’d definitely add a skate park, though. A strange thought occurred where he remembered Caleb’s hotel being called the Desert Oasis - the irony of it all couldn’t have been more obvious.

For the first time in weeks, Willie had a peaceful sleep.

A couple days later, Bessie’s husband still wasn’t back in town. She didn’t seem too worried about it, but Willie could feel tensions building up for himself. He was slowly running out of ways to entertain himself while his burns were finally toning down into tan lines, and he was afraid he would wear out his welcome while she was waiting for the town to be sold. His backpack was already packed and ready to go, but it was mid-morning and he still felt unsure about when was a good time to leave. For now, he simply doodled over the top of the comics in the newspaper.

The door of the cafe opened. Willie didn’t bother looking up but he overheard the conversation.

“Well, I am surprised to see you here again,” Bessie was saying.

“Hello, Bess, how’s it been?” A man’s voice was heard speaking. Willie couldn’t tell where he recognized it from.

“Slow. Buster’s been out of town. I guess we oughta tell you we’re leasing the place so you’re not in for a surprise next time you want to fly out here.”

“Leasing the town? Well, that’s a shame.”

“Any day now.”

“Any day now? If I’d known this would be the last stop I make here, I would’ve planned better. I was just gonna go out to the salt flats for a bit and then hightail it back to LA.”

Willie peeked over his shoulder. He still couldn’t see the man’s face, but he felt his heart rate go up at the mention of Los Angeles. Not wanting to appear rude, though, he continued with his doodling and tried to tune out what they were talking about. Eventually the man left the cafe and it was difficult to tell if he was going to come back or not. If it took until later that evening, he was willing to wait to find out.

In the meantime, he let Big Bo teach him how to make his special dinner rolls. The man was very quiet but he clearly loved making food and it made the process more fun. Also, Willie enjoyed the way he got called “little man” because it came out sounding so laid back and welcoming. While they waited for the dough to set, Big Bo showed him some tattoos he had and explained the symbolism of each one.

“This represents Nāmaka, the Hawaiian goddess,” he said, pointing to a woman’s face surrounded by ocean waves on his bicep. “But to me she really represents the course of life. The tide goes in, and the tide goes out, and the good things and bad things do the same. What you and me do is just ride that wave wherever it takes us in life.”

Listening intently, Willie thought back to Alex’s eyes and the countless times he used the visual of ocean waves to bring him calm amid the turbulence. Big Bo had spoken a simple concept, but it was something more powerful than anything Caleb had ever said. Something in Willie’s heart felt like he could finally find a purpose outside of all of this chaos.

After they had finished making the rolls, Willie sat eating one while petting Sheldon when he heard the door to the cafe open again. Footsteps approached and suddenly, a man Willie recognized had put his leg up on the chair across from Willie and was leaning on his knee casually. Surprise seemed to slap him over the face when he realized who he was. Indiana Jones, Han Solo, the Fugitive himself looked down at him in a bomber jacket and jeans.

“So my friend Bessie tells me you’re in a rough spot, kid,” Harrison Ford said. Willie looked back in shock. “I’ve got my own plane out there right now. You want a ride?”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #sunset curve #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #sheldon the cat #harrison ford #viva las vegas #willie alone #fiddlepickdouglas

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

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jaliceweek20 day 1: human/vampire

Title: Against A Wall (Part 1)

Prompt 1: Human/Vampire

Word Count: 3,851

Note: I’m going into hospital tomorrow, and I’ve run out of time to get this finished (so, so close but I need sleep). So I cut it in half in the most logical place.

As long as the JaliceWeek Mods don’t have an issue, I’ll finish off Part 2 and upload the whole fic to the AO3 collection around Tuesday when I’m feeling human and have a decent Wifi connection.

Fifteen.

He crouches behind Dewey’s Bar, spitting blood onto the pavement, and trying to pretend that whatever is seeping into his jeans is just water, and not runoff from the reeking dumpster beside him.

It’s Tuesday night, and Tuesdays are always the worst. Tuesdays are his mom’s night shifts at the VA hospital. Tuesdays are pay-day. Tuesdays are the only day his father doesn’t pull his punches.

His left cheek and eye are swollen and split, like overripe fruit. He can’t see real well, and the taste of aluminium foil in the back of his mouth makes him suspect another fracture around his eye.

But was it really a Tuesday night if cerebral fluid wasn’t leaking into his mouth?

He feels bad that his mother is going to walk in at five the next morning, exhausted, to find… well, to find Hettie and Flo asleep in Ava’s bed, as Ava studies and worries. To find Jasper’s bed empty, and Lydia’s too. To find the study door locked, no matter how long she knocks.

In fact, the only thing that Louise Whitlock won’t find when she gets home from work is the god-damned strength of will to leave her fucking husband.

Last time he said that to her face, she started to cry, and that made things worse.

It’s still early, which sucks. There are hours to go until it is safe to move, to drag himself to school, to shower in the locker rooms and get some food out of the vending machine and savour the fact that another Tuesday is behind him. Sheldon isn’t big enough for the other students and the teachers not to notice the bruises on his face, but it is small enough that everyone knows Jeremiah Whitlock, and no one is going to say anything to get him in trouble.

He could go find Lydia, hide in the tree-house, tell someone who wasn’t family or a local. But he always ends up behind Dewey’s. When he was a kid, it hadn’t just been a bar; it had been been Dewey’s Bar and Grill, and his grandfather used to take him there for fried chicken and ice cream. Dewey had been his Grandpa Jed’s best friend, but even in those halcyon days it hadn’t exactly been family-friendly.

It had become a dive bar sometime around the time Jasper finished middle-school, but it didn’t matter - by then, Dewey and Grandpa were dead, and he was too busy trying to protect himself and his sisters to eat ice cream.

He spits blood again, and rests back against the brickwork. Nothing for it; Tuesdays were always hell.

—

He tries to sleep, amongst the noise of passersby, and remain unnoticed - Jasper’s learnt the hard way that his uncles still frequent Dewey’s, and they will march him straight back home for round two, no matter what he says. Even when he came up with the strength to tell them, about Lydia and Jerry and Tuesday nights, his uncles just tell him to shut up, man up, and maybe Jerry wouldn’t have to whoop his ass.

He thinks of Lydia and hopes she’s somewhere warm and clean tonight. Lydia’s smart enough to stay away on Tuesday nights. Home is never Lydia’s first port of call any night of the week, but never, ever on Tuesdays.

He remembers the last Tuesday night she was home, two summers ago, when Lydia stormed upstairs, a twelve-year-old hurricane with fire in her eyes, and called their father a coward for beating the shit out of Jasper.

Jeremiah Whitlock hadn’t liked being called a coward. Not at all.

Now she is transient, a ghost sister who vanishes at day break; one who bunks down on couches and in treehouses before coming back to her own bed. Their mom and Ava worry about where Lydia gets her money, cigar-sized rolls of dollar bills that she keeps in a tampon box, but he knows.

He knows that his sharp and pointy little sister never let anything stop her, least of all hard work, and that a lot of people in town know that Jerry Whitlock has a lot of anger and a lot of disappointment that he tries to drown in cheap beer and cheaper whiskey. It just makes him angrier. If the only thing they can do is give Lydia Whitlock some work, well, that kid’ll cut the grass, paint the garage, and walk the dog for a few bucks and a drink from a spigot.

It’s easy to say that Lydia is the best of them, making it clear that she doesn’t need their shitty father or their tired mother, but they are all strong in different ways. Ava, who smiles and simpers at their father, waiting for that day when she can buckle Hettie and Flo into her car and take them with her to college in Houston with a middle finger raised in the air. Flo stays quiet, stays alert, darting and hiding when the moment comes, but whose slight of hand belongs to a survivalist magician. And sweet little Hettie, who never lived on the ranch and knew their parents when they were happy, is sunshine and laughter and innocence. The one that reminds them why they stick together.

He’s the boy, so his role is obvious and unquestioned: he takes the punches and slaps and kicks that were meant for their mom, for Lydia, for Flo. He mutters things under his breath so that Jerry doesn’t hear what his sisters are saying, forgets that Hettie is sniffling or that Lydia hasn’t been home in ten days or that their mother has burnt dinner.

He knows his place.

—-

If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed.

Had been since the Civil War; the youngest son had run off and joined up. Tried to desert two months in, crying for his momma, and ran afoul of someone - or something. He was dead a month later, but no one was exactly sure if he’d been executed for desertion, or if he’d just got in the way of a Yankee bullet. Either way, his last letter was rambling and terrified of something he never named, and his cowardice was rewarded with his bloodline’s constant suffering.

Within the Whitlock family lore, the curse was held accountable for numerous failings - from great-great grandmother Edith running off with one of the Wilkerson boys, to little Brian dropping dead as a doornail one summer day after seven years of perfect health. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.

It was the curse that had four and a half strapping brothers (Uncle Wyatt only counted as half since he went to the war in the Middle East and got himself blown up before he was even old enough to drink, and left behind a high school sweetheart with a bouncing baby girl they all called ‘Puddin’) father fifteen girls, and only one lousy boy.

Make no mistake about it, Jasper was a lousy heir to the Whitlock name. All three of his uncles reminded him of this every holiday season. Whitlock men were supposed to live and breathe the ranch, were supposed to be football players and champions. They were meant to knock up the head cheerleader and serve eight years in the army, like their brothers, fathers, uncles, and grandfathers before them.

Not snivelling little momma’s boys, who cried themselves to sleep when Sirius Black died, and could charm the birds from the trees. Not boys who helped their sisters catch rabbits, and keep them as secret pets, or name the house cat Socrates. Not boys who sat up all night when their horse had colic, and sit in the stable with her, begging and praying for her to be okay.

He tried, goddamnit. So hard. He was the best shot in the family (something that Uncle Bo had nearly hit him over, that one Thanksgiving. But everyone knew that Bo had the worst temper in the family.) Before things went to shit, he’d been a good student. He’d been able to convince the animals on the ranch to do anything. He was popular, without having any particular friends or putting much effort into it. He took care of his sisters.

But none of it was ever good enough.

Nothing ever was.

—

It’s Roy Lester that chases him off, before six the next morning. Roy runs the grocer next to Dewey’s, and went to school with his father and uncles - still had beers with them ever so often. The way he threatened Jasper and chased him off home whenever he caught him in the alley made Jasper think that they talked about him, and none of it flattering.

So he has to slink home because he stinks and he’s starving. The security at school won’t let anyone in before seven; he’s tried before; it’s not like he has much choice.

In a town like Sheldon, everyone knew everyone. You started kindergarten with maybe twenty other five year olds - most you probably already knew - and spent the next thirteen years with those same kids. You watched Maude Montgomery transform from the aesthetic-equivalent of Danny Devito to Jennifer Lawrence in a single summer, thanks to a late brush with puberty; you were right there when Casey Atkinson was put in a wheelchair and spent seventh grade learning to walk again. You knew that Ariel Turner was diabetic, Marley Harris was asthmatic, and you’d seen thirteen years of peanut-free lunches and birthday parties because Joey Thompson was highly allergic.

The joy of small towns.

Everyone knew that Jerry Whitlock hit his kids and his wife, but no one talked about it - not to their faces, at least. The adults tended to march Jasper home, to face his father’s wrath. The kids tended to get uncomfortable, and look through him. The few people who tried to reach out were from out of town, and were usually passing through - the odd teacher, a new neighbour, a concerned face on the bus.

Better to go home until school opened up.

Louise is in the kitchen, her face pinched and pale, clutching a cup of coffee. She looks hopeful when he walks in, but seems to crumple in on herself when she sees his bloody, swollen face. She looks old as she puts down her mug, and moves to pull him into a hug. He pretends not to notice her shuddering, as she cries onto his shoulder, before pulling away.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she manages, sniffling. “Okay? You must be hungry.”

He grunts and nods, as he heads upstairs. As if scrambled eggs and burnt toast can fix another Tuesday night.

But Wednesdays are good - the longest possible time until another Tuesday night.

He just has to keep telling himself that.

—

Seventeen.

Another Tuesday behind Dewey’s, but this time he’s puking up the few mouthfuls of food he managed before his father hauled him out the back - only because it was his mom’s week off and they were having a big family dinner. Louise resented those mid-week dinners; after a long day at work, having to make dinner for twenty-three people, and somehow find enough plates and chairs was the last thing she wanted to do. It was the only time Lydia would cross their father’s sight line, skinny and defiant.

If it had been a normal dinner, Jerry wouldn’t have dragged him out of the house. He would have beat him in the kitchen, yelling over Hettie’s sobs and Flo’s screams, and Louise’s pleading. He’s had a serving platter smashed over his head before, as well as a beer bottle, and a ceramic pitcher - one that had been made by Grandma Lillian, and Louise had sobbed over those broken shards.

His head is spinning, and he can’t remember exactly what he said to incite his father’s rage, though he remembers Uncle Bo’s jeers when he tried to stand up. The previous week’s wounds have reopened, and are bleeding onto his last decent t shirt. There’s vomit and alley-juice all over his jeans, and he wonders if he should drag himself to the hospital because his world is still spinning.

He wonders what will happen if he dies tonight; if Roy Lester finds him here in the morning, cold and dead. Most of the cops in town are from old families, and they’ve taken Lydia and Jasper back home enough times to know what goes on. It’s easier to picture the cover-up, that they’ll blame him and a make-believe schoolyard fight. Just a tragic accident.

Maybe then someone will help Lydia, help all of his sisters. Maybe it’ll be the thing that makes his mom leave.

He falls asleep facedown in the alley, and wants to cry when he wakes up the next morning to the bellow of school kids heading to the bus stop.

He was so goddamned close to it all being over.

So close.

—

“Do you need some help?”

It’s another Tuesday night, one that has come with busted ribs and possibly a dislocated shoulder. He missed lunch because of an English project, and his father had been drinking early, so he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. It’s making him feel sick, and wondering if anyone will notice if he sneaks in the back door of Dewey’s and grab some food.

And then someone is there and talking to him.

Her voice is high and sweet, and he expects a high school girl, maybe a sorority sister.

She is neither.

She’s only as tall as Flo, with uneven black hair curling around her cheeks. She’s one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, with huge amber-coloured eyes that remind him of Hettie’s dolls and Lydia’s manga. She’s wearing a ragged button-up over a ruffled mini-skirt and leggings, with boots that look a size too big, a heavy man’s watch that hangs from her tiny wrist, and an ancient looking cadet’s cap - the entire effect makes him think of Oliver Twist as a female circus performer.

She walks over to him, and crouches in front of him, her head cocked to the side like a bird’s. He can only stare; other than the dark smudges under her eyes that speak of many sleepless nights, she is beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking worried.

“Yeah,” he croaks, and winches as he jars his ribs. He doubles over, and cries out. She reaches out towards him but backs off just as suddenly.

“You’re hurt,” she says, looking bewildered and frightened. “Where?”

“I-It’s okay,” he manages, trying to reclaim his dignity in front of the prettiest girl. “I’ll be fine.”

The girl huffs. “Ugh, boys,” she mutters. “Hold on a second.” She gets up and slips out of the alley before he can beg her not to get help. In reality, going to the hospital is the last thing he should do - they can’t afford the bill, and they’ll call home and… no. Just no.

His head is spinning, so he finds it hard to tell how much time has passed, but eventually she returns. She’s clutching two bags, and marches right up to him and crouches back down.

“This will help,” she says, holding out painkillers and a bottle of water. He fumbles with the lids of both, but eventually swallows the pillows down. She watches him carefully. “Don’t drink too fast,” she advises. “Now, I can put your shoulder back in now, or we can wait. It’s up to you.”

He blinks at her slowly. “Now,” he decides.

“Okay,” she looks nervous, but moves forward. It’s all blurry in his mind, but there is something cold, then hot, angry pain, and then he’s blinking up at her again. “Sorry. But trust me, the worst is over now. At least I didn’t break it worse. Hungry?”

He blinks as she reaches for the other bag - a bag of Skittles, a packaged sandwich, two oranges, and a bag of potato chips. He’s not sure if he has a concussion or it’s an odd selection, but he’s also hungry enough that he doesn’t care.

“I nearly had to call Bella, to ask what to get - Edward never let me buy her food after the chicken incident - which was entirely Emmett’s fault - but I think I figured it out okay,” the girl jabbers, taking a seat beside him, and smiles at him. “Better no one knows where I am, anyway.”

“I… thanks,” he croaked, as he reached for the sandwich. She beams at him again, and then frowns.

“Eat, then we’ll finish patching you up. I’ve come too far to watch you die in this disgusting place,” she stretches her legs out in front of her.

The sandwich is dry, but he wolfs it down - an orange too, before he takes a breath - that hurts - and takes another look at the tiny girl beside him.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, and she looks up from her watch.

“Oh! I’m Alice,” she says. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t know. Do you want your ribs taped now, or are you going to open those?” She points to the Skittles.

“Um, I…” he looks at the bag of candy. “Do you want some?” This feels like a fever dream; maybe he’s passed out and this is just what his banged-up brain has provided him with.

“No,” she shakes her head, and the cadet’s cap tilts a little on her head. “I can’t. They just looked nice. Happy.”

“Happy,” he echoes, looking at the red package.

“I hear that sometimes little things can help,” Alice says. “Come on, cowboy, take that shirt off and let me see those ribs.”

His side is mottled black and blue and purple, and moving in basically any direction is a new adventure in pain. Alice gasps at the sight, and then coos at him in a way that is oddly comforting as her fingers trace his ribs - the coldness of her fingers is actually wonderful against the pain. Then comes the painful stage - as she, not entirely gently enough, begins layering tape over the pain, his head is spinning.

“All done,” Alice says, and her voice is soft, and when he slumps against her shoulder, she doesn’t move away. She smells like old fashioned things, like roses and linen. It reminds him of the old family homestead. He finds his eyes closing, and his side aches in time with his heart, and then Alice’s gentle fingers are running through his hair.

“Sleep, Jasper,” she murmurs, “I’ll keep watch.”

He’s asleep before he realises he never told her his name.

—

She’s gone when he wakes up, and the Skittles are in his pocket - along with the painkillers. Happy.

It’s Wednesday morning, and it’s not exactly ‘happy’ he’s feeling, but he’s got candy in his pocket and time to go home for a shower and more food, so Alice was right - the little things do help.

—

She never turns up two Tuesdays in a row, but he does see her again. She’s always more prepared than the first time, with a bag that always seems to contain exactly what they need - in his less lucid states, he is reminded of Mary Poppins’ magic carpet bag as she produces snacks and first aid kits, and even clothing.

Her attempts at first aid are, at best, rough and she accidentally breaks two of his fingers and nearly ends up in tears when he yells in pain, and hugs him so tight, weeping into his neck, that he ends up trying to comfort her.

Sometimes he sleeps. She’s so thin and tiny that her shoulder isn’t a good pillow, and he feels like a shit man, letting such a tiny girl keep watch behind a bar. It wouldn’t take much to break her, and he can’t defend anyone in this state.

But some Tuesdays, he falls asleep anyway, breathing in that scent of fresh roses and linen, and listening to her chatter away about people he doesn’t know, about places he’s never visited, about books he’s never read.

Alice sounds like she’s living a really nice life. One week, she quizzes him on his Spanish before his examine the next day, and her accent is flawless. When her phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes, and she ignores it, she usually swears - he doesn’t know in what language, one of the Eastern Asian ones he thinks - but it’s definitely a swear.

He wishes he could see her, talk to her, out in the real world and prove to her that he’s not just a beat-up kid. But she’s always gone on Wednesday mornings, and he doesn’t even know how to contact her anyway.

All in all, he met Alice in the reeking alley behind Dewey’s with a concussion, broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, and now she’s the best friend he’s ever had in the world.

He’s getting closer to that ‘happy’ concept that she mentioned the first time they met.

—

The last time he sees her, he’s bleeding and he’s pretty sure his eye socket is fractured. He’s pissed with himself because he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, to stop his father from going after Flo. So he’d thrown a punch at his old man for the first time because Flo is his baby sister and all haunted eyes and he’ll never forget the sounds of her wailing after the belt struck her, but hitting the bastard back just fuelled him and … fuck.

Then Alice is there, in jeans with stars on the knees and a billowy purple top that is just opaque enough to obscure the skin underneath. She looks angry and frustrated, and doesn’t just sit next to him and open her bag like she usually does.

“It’s a stupid fucking decision you’re about to make,” she stamps her foot, “and I am so mad at you right now, but Carlisle and Edward have made me promise not to interfere. Carlisle says that everything I’m doing now is enough. And I’m already in enough trouble, honestly.”

He can taste foil again - definitely a fractured eye socket.

“What?” he manages, snappish and tired. He doesn’t need this. He wants sweet Alice, who helps him patch himself back together, and gets him food, and talks him to sleep. The one who makes him laugh, even when it hurts, and seems to be light-years ahead of him but that’s okay because she’s always so happy about whatever she’s telling him.

“I’m going to say this once,” she enunciates carefully, still glaring. “I will be here every Tuesday. Don’t make a dumb decision. There is always another choice.”

“You’re making less sense than normal,” he retorts. “Either help me, or go away - I’m not in the mood.”

“Happy freakin’ birthday,” she snaps, unbuckling her giant watch, and throws it at him before she storms back the way she came, leaving him behind.

#jaliceweek20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #vampire alice human jasper #my fic: against a wall #my writing: against a wall #alice is so unhelpfully helpful

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

Text

52 Project #29: The Last Boy (Inktober #11: Disgusting)

This is fanfic-adjacent; it’s an unauthorized sequel to Alice Sheldon (writing as James Tiptree Jr)’s story “The Screwfly Solution”. It is... less dark than that story, but if you’re familiar with it, that’s not saying much. (If you aren’t familiar, don’t worry, this story explains the backstory necessary.)

This is a horror story... or at the least, dark science fiction. (Nothing supernatural in this one.) I am not tagging any of the triggers inside because spoilers, which are destructive to a horror story, but I will include them at the end, which is below the cut. If you rapidly scroll through the story you can reach the trigger list without actually reading any of the story.

--------------------------------------------------------

Roy is very excited, running, practically skipping, ahead on the trail. “Uncle Matt! This is great! I can see the woods up ahead already!”

Matt forces a smile, because he’s very much afraid of how this expedition might end, but he has to try. He has to have hope. “Sure is. Ready to go hunting?”

“You bet!” Roy turns around and flashes Matt a big, heartwarming smile. His face is pocked with acne and he’s late to have lost his last baby tooth; it’s a gap on the upper left side of his face. He looks so young, so boyish. Which he is; he’s thirteen. Thirteen is still a kid. Matt’s sixty; thirteen’s practically a baby to him. They grow up so damn fast. “You think we’ll bag a deer?”

“We might. Or we might bag a goose. Or we might come home empty-handed. The point to hunting is to be quiet and patient, and let nature bring to you whatever it will.”

They hike up to the tree line. This is one of very, very few forest areas that’s still being tended and managed by people. The rocky hiking trail up to the tree line’s been kept clear of scrub; there are bushes and tall grasses on either side of the trail, but nothing on the wide stretch of packed dirt.

From here Matt can look down the side of the mountain, to the acres planted with corn and wheat, the women working in the rows, a couple of men stationed to sit by the road with their guns, watchful for whoever might come by. He knows them both. Good boys. He took Evan out on a hunting trip like this one, ten years ago, and they came home with a deer and a couple of rabbits. Jase was called Lisa back then, and didn’t need to go on a hunting trip like this. The tradition of the hunting trip when you’re thirteen isn’t for the girls, or the gay boys, or the trans kids. Most of them resent that, until they get to be old enough to understand why.

“This is the best,” Roy says. “Just me and you, Uncle Matt. How long has it been since we got to just spend time together, just two men?”

“I think you were 10. We went out to the river and went fishing, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. I didn’t catch anything,” Roy laughs. “You got a couple of fish, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling as he remembers. “Had to throw ‘em back, though. They were too small.”

“Why don’t we do stuff like that more often, Uncle Matt? Just hang out, without all these stupid girls around?”

Matt sighs. “You have school and I’ve got work; crops don’t grow themselves and we don’t get security by going on vacation.”

“Yeah, but why do we have to even live here? Why don’t we go live somewhere where there’s just men?”

“That’s a little hard to find. There’s not a lot of men around,” Matt points out.

“Because the stupid girls wouldn’t go to them and have their kids,” Roy mutters.

That is a disturbingly misleading viewpoint on what happened, but Matt tries to let it go, for the moment. “Hey. We need to keep quiet now,” he says softly. “If there’s any deer, we don’t want to scare them.”

Roy nods, and the two of them walk quietly into the forest.

***

Roy was such a sweet little boy.

Matt remembers him bringing the pictures he drew to Matt and to his mother – who Matt, despite being called uncle, is not actually related to; Matt is uncle to all the boys he takes under his wing – and being so enthusiastic about showing it to them. He remembers one of the pictures, of himself and Roy holding hands. Another, of Roy holding hands with his mom. Roy hasn’t had anything positive to say to his mother in weeks; he’s been disobeying her, insulting her, calling her stupid and saying he doesn’t have to listen to her because she’s just a woman.

It’s biological. Roy wasn’t raised to even have the concept of men somehow being better than women at anything or for any reason. Most of the boys develop the attitude around puberty, the result of a disease that infected the entire world over a century ago. Many of them get over it. Many don’t. Matt never suffered it at all; it’s linked to heterosexual desire, and Matt knew he was gay ever since he was nine.

He remembers Roy running around with a toy airplane, declaring that when he was grown up he would help restore humanity’s control of the skies, working to bring back the airplanes. He remembers Roy making him lemonade when he was six, cooking him an egg when he was ten. Roy making a card for his mother’s birthday with a big heart on it. Roy asking him what stars were made of.

It’s going to be all right, he tells himself. Evan was a little ass to his mom and his sisters, and it all worked out for him. Lebron actually punched his mom when he was fourteen, and he came through it. Roy’s going to be fine.

All the boys mean so much to him, but Roy is special… maybe because he’s the most recent one. Matt hasn’t been working with the little boys so much, lately. There’s enough men in the settlement now that the younger men, with more energy, are taking up more of that role. When Matt himself was a child, there were almost no men – Uncle Harry was the only cis man he’d known. Of the boys he grew up with, only Andrew, Tyrone and Jose were still there by the time he was an adult, plus Deandre who was trans and joined them in their late teens. He’d dated all of them except Deandre, who was straight. Ended up eventually with Cole, three years younger than him. Cole had a heart attack six years ago, and after that Matt couldn’t bear to open himself up to any of the new little boys, not without the emotional support of an adult man to share his life with. Roy has been the last one to call him Uncle.

“Uncle!” Roy hisses. “Is that a deer? Over there?”

Matt looks where Roy is pointing. “It could be,” he whispers back. “Let’s see.”

They walk closer, carefully, trying to be quiet. But Roy steps on a branch he doesn’t see. It snaps, and the vague outline that might be a deer startles and runs, proving that yes, it is a deer. Roy pulls out his gun and fires, but misses, predictably.

“Oh, son of a bitch!” Roy swears.

“What have we said about language?” Matt asks mildly.

“Come on, Uncle Matt. I’m not a baby anymore,” Roy protests. “Besides, I said ‘shit’ when I stubbed my toe on a rock on the way up here.”

“Yes, but ‘shit’ is disgusting and everyone makes it. ‘Bitch’ is an insult specifically for women, and calling something a ‘son of a bitch’ when you want to swear at it is basically saying that it’s the fault of mothers if their sons are terrible.”

“Well, who else’s fault would it be? Stupid b – stupid women don’t know anything, but they act like they know everything.”

“I think that’s a little bit of an overgeneralization. I know you’re not getting along with your mother lately—”

“She just makes me so mad. She’s always telling me what to do! Like she knows everything!”

“She is your mother,” Matt says mildly. “And she’s twenty-five years older than you. That does tend to make people know more than you.”

“Yeah, but not her. She really doesn’t know anything. Sometimes I just wanna punch her.”

“That happens to a lot of boys at puberty, but they get over it. By the time you’re twenty-five, you’ll be amazed at how smart your mother has suddenly become.” He smiles at Roy.

Roy glowers. “I don’t think so. Girls are just disgusting. I just want to hang out with men, like you. You’re not a dumbass, Uncle Matt. All the girls are dumbasses, but the guys aren’t.”

“That’s the hormones talking. You’ll get over it.” Matt points at the ground. “Do you see that?”

“No, what?”

“Tracks. For the deer.” Matt crouches down and points them out to Roy. “We can see what direction it went in, now.”

“Oh, yeah! I can see it now!” Roy starts to run, but Matt holds him back by the shoulder.

“Roy. Slow. Patient. Quiet. The deer can run faster than you or me, but it burns more energy doing that. If we walk, we catch up with it, because it’s got to rest. But if it hears us, it’ll run again. So we walk, and we’re quiet.”

“Right. I get it, Uncle Matt.” Roy is much more quiet and careful about where he puts his feet after that.

***

When Roy was eight, Matt walked the fields with him and showed him how to sow corn. They went to the vegetable plots and planted carrots and lima beans. Roy was so proud the day they harvested his carrots, and he got to eat one. Matt took him fishing the first time, that same year.

The little boys are always so sweet, so bright, so full of promise. It hurts so much when they don’t fulfill it.

Please, God, let Roy be all right. Let him get past this. Of course he would. Matt has been training him, teaching him since he was small (but there were others, other boys Matt had loved like his own sons, who he’d trained and taught, and they weren’t around here anymore).

He should have been around more often in the last three years. Roy was heading for puberty and that scared Matt. Still does. He visits the boy often, but Roy is right – they haven’t done anything together, just the two of them, in a long time.

“You ever spend any time with any of the young men? Jase, or Evan, or Fred?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I hang out more with the guys closer to my age. You know any of them? Steve, Paolo, Rafael?”

“Sure, yeah, I know them.”

“Paolo has a dad,” Roy says enviously. “When I grow up I want to be a dad.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because humanity needs more men to be dads,” Matt says. “You can go live where they’re using your donation, if you really want to be a dad, and help to raise the kid you helped make, or you can stay here and help raise the boys as an uncle, and maybe go out and visit the places where they used your donations.”

“How come I can’t stay here and raise a boy here?”

“Genetic variation. If we let human men have sons with their sisters, we get inbreeding. All kinds of diseases. Sending your donations to the other compounds makes us strong and healthy as a species.”

“Did you ever donate, Uncle Matt?”

“Back in my day, if your balls worked you had to donate. We didn’t have enough men. You know old Gran Stacie, she had to donate too. She couldn’t take the hormones to look feminine until there was a safe compound for women to live in and plenty of donations so the human race could keep going.”

“She’s okay, I guess. But the other girls are really stupid and gross.”

Matt stops Roy there. “Hey. You keep saying that. It’s like you’ve forgotten everything we taught you about our history.”

“I remember history,” Roy protests.

“So tell me. Why do we live this way? Why do women live in secure compounds with only a few men? A hundred years ago the world was very different. Tell me how it was, and what changed.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. You do.” Matt sits on the ground, and gestures for Roy to sit across from him. “Come on. Tell Uncle Matt all about it.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “A hundred years ago men and women lived together but then there was a disease and it made the men sick and the sickness made them want to hurt women so they couldn’t live with women anymore, the end,” he says in a rapid sing-song.

“No. That shit doesn’t fly with me, kid, and you know it doesn’t. Tell it to me right.”

Roy sighs. “Okay, okay. So. Back then, women and men lived together all the time and every kid had a dad, and the men still took care of the women but there weren’t a lot of men trying to kill them, just one or two weird ones.”

Matt, being an adult, is aware of how far this is skewed off the truth of what life was like a century ago, but the boys are being raised with no awareness of historical misogyny. Nothing to give the disease any historical justification it can hook onto. They learn more details when they’re proven to be safe. “So far so good.”

“So back then, there was this thing we used to do to kill flies where we made the male flies wanna kill the female flies instead of mate with them.” This is also a distortion of the facts, but Matt lets it go as well. “Then suddenly, men were trying to kill women instead of having sex with them. But it was just the straight men who were affected and they had to have balls. Women weren’t affected even if they had balls, and gay men weren’t affected, and men who didn’t have balls weren’t affected, and men who didn’t want sex even though they had balls weren’t affected, but all the men who had balls and wanted to have sex with women wanted to kill the women. And a lot of the time, little girls or old women that no one wanted to have sex with, because they thought in their heads it was God telling them to kill women or something. They didn’t know the truth.”

“And what was the truth?”

“That it was aliens. They spread the virus around on Earth because they wanted humans to die, just like the flies, so they could take the Earth for themselves. But humans are more complicated than flies. So there were men who were affected too much, who killed little boys because little boys look like little girls, and there were men who weren’t affected as much, who’d killed their wives but they were trying to protect their little girls. And there were men who didn’t have sex with women even if they wanted to because they were trying to honor God or something, and those men could resist wanting to kill, because the wanting to kill thing was related to wanting sex. If they could resist one, sometimes they could resist the other. Plus, all the asexual men and the gay men and the trans men and other kinds of men without balls like castrated men, plus the trans women, who could fake being men so they could stay alive. And there were also a lot of women with guns, too.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, most of the women got killed, and the men who were doing the killing, they didn’t have any kids. But the women who survived, they went into compounds where all the women had guns and they would kill strange men who came near them. And a lot of the kinds of men who didn’t want to kill women would help women get to those compounds. They called them ‘allies.’ You’d have been one if you were alive in those days, Uncle Matt.” This is said proudly. Roy doesn’t realize how much Matt is still called on to be an ally, even today.

“I would have, yes. So how did we get where we are today?”

“A lot of the places were run by women who hated men even before they started killing women, called rads, and the rads were okay with women getting donations from ally men, but if they had boy babies they wanted to send the babies to live with the men or else throw them outside and kill them. And the moms didn’t want to do that and they thought it was stupid. So they made their own compounds and they let ally men live there. And if boys grew up and they didn’t want to kill women, then they were allowed to give donations and be dads. But if they did, then they couldn’t be dads and they couldn’t live there anymore.”

So much heartbreak, so much agony, skimmed over so neatly and briefly. Mothers pleading with their baby boys, grown to young men, not to do this, before the boy killed the mother… or the mother killed the boy, in self-defense. Entire compounds of women lost because some mother couldn’t bear to kill her son, so she locked him away instead… and he got out. Boys with the compulsion to kill sent to live with the femicidal men, only to be killed themselves, because there were no boys among the men anymore and the young boys were more feminine than anything the killer men had seen in years, by then. Or castrated, so that they would theoretically be safe to stay, except humans were complex and some of them retained the femicidal compulsion even in the absence of testicles, and the horror of boys everyone thought were safe suddenly murdering their sisters. Gay boys in love, their hearts shattered when their love interest proved to have enough interest in women that he became a killer.

They’re more careful now. Things like that don’t happen anymore.

“And the killer men thought that the aliens were like messengers from God or something, but the women and the ally men killed a lot of aliens. And when lots of aliens were dead, they realized that their plan to get Earth for themselves by making the humans die out from killing all the women wasn’t going to work, because humans are complicated. So we guess they changed their minds, because they left and no one has seen them since.”

“And that’s a good thing. We lost a lot of people when the aliens were willing to fight back in self-defense. If they’d had the stomach for it, they might have won, and humanity might have been wiped out. But, we assume, they weren’t willing to die to take our planet; they’d been trying to kill us off so they could have all the bounties of the Earth without doing any damage from removing us. If you try to settle in swampland and you try to kill all the mosquitoes, and instead the mosquitoes start killing you back, maybe you go find somewhere else to live.” Or maybe you come back, later, with a new plan… but humanity has collectively decided that, while it’s important to try to have contingencies for that possibility, it’s more important to rebuild humanity and reclaim what was lost. Matt worries about that, but it’s not something he can do anything about.

“You think they’re ever going to come back, Uncle Matt?”

Maybe. “No. We kicked their butts hard enough I’m pretty sure they’re gone forever. But they left us with this giant mess to clean up.” He sighs. “This stuff you’re feeling about how girls are stupid and irritating and you can’t stand being around them? That says, you’re in puberty and you’re going to grow up to be attracted to girls. Maybe guys too, but definitely girls. And the virus is waking up in you, trying to turn your desire for girls into hatred, but it doesn’t have to win. A lot of guys make it through this stage no problem, and never hurt anyone.”

“It doesn’t feel like a virus. It feels like they’re stupid and boring and gross and I hate them.”

“Of course it does. If it felt like a virus, the men a hundred years ago would have figured it out before they killed most of the women. It messes with your emotions, Roy. It takes feelings that are natural and normal, and twists them around. But if you understand that, then you don’t have to let it win.”

“Okay,” Roy said, and rocks backward, looking around him. “Can we go hunt for the deer now?”

“Sure, kid.” Matt gets to his feet. “We’re done here. You remember what they taught you about controlling your anger?”

“Yeah. Take deep breaths, take a step back from the situation, walk away if you hafta.”

“Right,” Matt says. “Let’s get a move on. That deer won’t shoot itself.”

***

They amble along through the woods. Another deer makes itself known, and Roy takes another shot, but misses. “Dammit! I was sure I had that shot!”

“I thought you did too,” Matt says. “But they move fast. You gotta be able to sneak up on them and shoot before they hear you coming.”

“Can you do that, Uncle Matt?”

“Used to. I’m older now; wouldn’t be surprised if the deer could hear the creak in my bones.” He grins.

And then they circle around a big rock, and there’s a girl.

She’s a teenager, about Roy’s age, maybe a little older. “Hi!” she says cheerfully. “I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone from around here! You’re from the compound down the mountain, right?”

Roy’s face twists into visible disgust, and he backs away. “That’s right,” Matt says calmly. “I’m Matt, and this is Roy.”

“My name’s Jennifer!” Jennifer has dark, wavy hair and tanned white-person skin. She’s wearing cutoff shorts, sneakers that have been patched many, many times – there are no companies that make goods from the old world like sneakers anymore – and a short-sleeved blue buttondown shirt that’s been tied up under her breasts to show her midriff, and opened in the front far enough to see her cleavage. When Matt was young, women were advised not to wear anything that could be arousing, because if they ran into a killer male, their life might depend on how much he was not turned on. By now, though, so many of the killer males are dead, and with women outnumbering men by three to one, the women and girls dress in whatever they want. It was never a good strategy for dealing with the killer males anyway; too many of them were willing to kill women dressed in nun robes, so it plainly had nothing to do with revealing clothes. There are numerous large lumps in her front pockets, which could be rocks, or animal bones, or any number of things.

Matt’s gay and far too old to see teenagers as anything other than young kids, but Roy is plainly very uncomfortable with Jennifer’s state of exposure. “What are you doing here?!” he half-shouts, angrily, at her.

“I’m from a compound on the other side of the mountain, and I hiked up here to try to collect mushrooms,” Jennifer says, her voice just a little bit too loud.

“Well, we’re hunting, so I’d like it if you could be a little quieter,” Matt says. “Don’t want to scare the deer.”

“Ooh! Hunting sounds fun! Can I join you?”

“No,” Roy says, loudly.

“Oh, come on!” Jennifer pouts. “I’ll be quiet!”

Matt takes in Roy’s trembling hands, the whiteness of his lips. Terror, or rage, or both. Roy’s expected to control himself no matter what the circumstances, but Matt… really doesn’t want to push him. Not now, when he’s so fragile. “Sorry, Jennifer, but Roy and I really came out for some uncle-nephew time. Maybe you can join us another time, but not now.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Huh,” she says. “Okay! I know a lot of guys like to go hunting with their dads or uncles when they’re thirteen. You’re thirteen, right?” This is directed to Roy.

“None of your business!” Roy snarls.

“Yeah, he’s thirteen,” Matt says tiredly. “Nice meeting you, Jennifer. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

“And maybe we won’t,” Roy mutters. He and Matt hike up the trail, away from Jennifer. “Good riddance.”

“I want you to think about this anger you’re feeling. It’s really out of proportion to the situation, isn’t it?”

Roy sighs. “Uncle Ma-att, I just wanna go hunting with you! I don’t wanna talk about my feelings!”

“Sure, but it’s safest for everyone if you do. What’re you supposed to do when you feel really angry?”

“I already took a step back from the situation! I told her to go away!”

“Didn’t hear any deep breaths,” Matt says.

Roy manages to deeply breathe sarcastically. It’s an impressive trick. Matt would never have thought it possible to breathe in a sarcastic way. Most of it’s with body language and facial expression, but there’s definitely a sarcastic note in the breath itself. “Now can we go find a deer?”

“Maybe we’d have better luck setting up a snare to trap rabbits.”

Roy’s whole body sags. “I wanted to bring home venison, Uncle Matt! Nobody cares if you bring home a rabbit!”

“All right,” Matt says mildly. “We’ll keep going.”

***

The forest is full of sound. Birds chirp and call. Squirrels and other animals rustle in the branches and bushes. Many of the sounds go silent as Matt and Roy approach, but not all. They come up into a clearing, someplace where someone, long ago, had a concrete pad. Most of it’s broken and destroyed, but there’s enough of it that even after a hundred years, the forest hasn’t completely taken it back.

And then there is the deer, quietly grazing on the other side of the clearing.

Matt whispers to Roy as he points it out. “Quiet, now.”

Roy nods. There’s a broken half-wall part of the way through the clearing, blocking the deer’s view of them if they go low. Matt and Roy crawl toward it. Once they’re behind it, Roy pokes his head up, very slightly, following Matt’s hand signals. He lifts his rifle. Quietly. The deer doesn’t stir.

Matt hears a tiny click. His eyes go wide and his blood runs cold.

Jennifer comes bounding into the clearing behind them. “Hi, guys! Didn’t think I’d run into—”

The deer leaps and runs off. Roy spins around, utter rage in his face, and screams, “You stupid bitch!”

“Roy, don’t—” Matt tries to grab Roy, tries to pull him down, throw off his aim, but it’s too late. The gun goes off, twice. Splotches of red explode on Jennifer’s chest, and she falls backward, twisting as she does so she lands on her front. Red oozes out from underneath her.

Roy drops the gun from fingers suddenly dead white and shaking. “I – I didn’t mean to – I was so angry--”

Wounds where the red had blossomed on Jennifer would be fatal; she’d bleed out almost immediately, and the quantity of red seeping out from under her body suggests that that’s what happened. It looks like a strike to the aorta, or the heart itself, maybe. Matt cannot stop himself. “No, no, no—”

“I’m sorry!” Roy screams. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry—”

Matt gets hold of himself. “Roy. Roy, come here. Come here, son.” He means it as an endearment – Roy is neither his literal son, nor has he raised the boy as a father – but it’s real as well. Roy is like a son to him. All of them have been, and he loves Roy so much, and his heart is shattering.

Roy collapses in his arms, sobbing. Matt holds the boy tightly with one arm. “It’s not your fault, Roy, it’s not,” he tells the crying child, tears welling in his own eyes. “It’s the virus. I know you didn’t mean to. I know you’re a good boy.”

“I’m so sorry—I just got so mad, and the gun was in my hand—”

“I know,” Matt says, as the boy’s wet face presses against his shoulder. “I know. I love you so much, Roy, you know that?”

“I love you too, Uncle Matt,” Roy says into Matt’s shirt, still sobbing, and a sob escapes from Matt’s chest as well as he raises his pistol with the arm that isn’t holding his nephew, his child, his son, the little boy who trusts him and loves him, and as Roy cries against his chest and cannot see what he’s doing with his other hand, he lifts the pistol to Roy’s temple, awkwardly, being sure not to touch him with it, and fires.

The sobs stop. After a moment they start again, but they’re only Matt’s.

Jennifer gets up. “I’m sorry, Matt,” she says quietly.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Matt snarls. “You provoked him! I told you to back off! I told you we weren’t having you join us!”

“I have to do my job,” Jennifer says wearily, and there is no longer any mistaking her for a teenager, despite the expertly applied makeup on her face. She’s short, she looks young, and with the right makeup none of the boys ever guess she’s not a teenage girl. There’s red all over her shorts, soaking her legs and belly, from where the bags of fake blood in her pockets burst, and splotches of red over her heart and her liver. The paint pellets look horrifically real; they even smell like blood.

No, wait, that’s probably Roy’s blood he’s smelling.

"Fuck your job.” Matt holds his little boy in his arms, with both arms now that he doesn’t need one free anymore. “You pushed him. If we’d just given him a little more time – a little more training—”

“And who might he have killed while you were giving him a little more time? His mom? One of the girls his age?”

“He wouldn’t have had a gun!—"

“He could have had a rock. Or a steak knife. Or a baseball bat. I’m so sorry, Matt, but—”

“If you say ‘that’s the law’ or ‘those are the rules’ to me, I will hit you,” Matt snaps. “Not because you’re a woman, but because you’re a piece of shit.”

She sighs. “I know you’re distraught. It’s horrible, having to do this—”

“You didn’t even know him!” Matt screams. “You didn’t watch him when he was little, you didn’t teach him to tie his shoes, you didn’t play airplane with him – you didn’t—”

“I had a son,” Jennifer says sharply. “Don’t tell me I don’t know how much it hurts, when we have to—I was 16 when I had my son. It was six years ago that – that he took his test, at thirteen, and he failed it.”

“There’ve been so many,” Matt whispers. So many little boys. Slightly less than half of them pass; that’s why the ratio of women to men is around 2:1. He was so, so relieved when Blake turned out to be a girl and took the name Cassandra, twelve years ago; the trans kids are immune to the violent impulses. He’d known that Cassandra wouldn’t have to face the test, that he’d never have to take her on a hunting trip she might never return from. So relieved when Joe, eight years ago, reported himself gay at eleven and then showed no sign of aggression toward his mother or sister or any girls his own age.

But all the others. All the others, he’d loved, and they’d loved him, and trusted him, and he took them up the mountain on a hunting trip… with a gun that could only shoot paint pellets and blanks, and the paint pellets only after the bait’s radio transmitter came into range and switched it on.

Roy would never have bagged a deer with that gun. But if he hadn’t shot Jennifer, if he’d controlled himself and proved he could overcome his femicidal impulses, Matt would have “discovered” that there was no ammo in it, and given Roy a different gun, and then they could have had a real deer hunt. Like Evan, ten years ago. Like Jamal, five years ago. Like LeBron… how long ago had LeBron even been?

He’d already decided he wouldn’t take on any new little boys, after Cole died. Roy was the last one, the last child to shepherd to adulthood, the last he had to test. “God,” he cries, holding the little boy he’s just killed in his arms. “Why couldn’t you have let me have the last one? Why didn’t you give him the strength to overcome it?” He rocks the body back and forth. “Why did you let any of this happen? Why do you make us have to kill our sons?”

“God’s got nothing to do with this,” Jennifer says softly. “This is evil. If God allowed such evil as this to exist, then She’s not worth worshipping, and if She can’t stop it, then there’s no point in blaming her. It was the aliens.”

The aliens his ancestors drove off planet, who he’ll never have a chance to fight, or get revenge on. There’s no one he can blame who’s here. He understands the system, he understands the necessity. Little boys who try to commit femicide once don’t have the control to stop themselves from doing it again, and if it’s not the bait with her paint bags in her shorts and the radio transmitter to make the gun fire paint pellets, it’ll be a girl or women who really dies because the boy will have a real weapon. They can’t let the femicides live among them, and they can’t send them away to live with the few bands of roving femicidal men that still exist… the only reason those still exist was that once upon a time, femicidal sons were turned out into the wilderness. Where they could grow up to be bandits who invaded compounds, stole the food, and murdered the women. The men, too, because the men would defend the compound, but the women they’d hunt and kill for fun.

He would never have wanted a future like that for Roy. But he didn’t want this, either.

“I’m… I’m going to go. I’ll radio the compound and let them know the results of the test.”

“You do that,” Matt says bitterly. He knows his anger isn’t fair. He knows his attempt to drive Jennifer off, put off the test at the last minute and get her to come back another day so Roy could maybe develop stronger self-control first, was wrong. He knows it could have resulted in Roy murdering someone he loves. Loved. But how much better is it that Matt had to murder someone he loves? Why do they need to kill the teen boys to protect the women? Oh, he knows why, he signed on for this job years ago because he knew why, he’s seen what happened when a boy grew into a killer and turned on the women he knew. But why has God or Fate or Allah or whatever the fuck is up there listening to human prayers allowed this? Why is this horrible thing something that they are forced to do?

After what seems like hours, crying and holding Roy’s body and whispering how sorry he is, he’s finally out of tears. He looks down at his pistol. Cole’s dead six years on now, and there’s no man in his bed waiting for him, back home. There’s no little boy he’s working with, and there will never be one again. Is there anyone to care if he lives or dies, now? What if he ate a bullet, right now, so he could stop seeing Roy and Jason and Manuel and little Matt, named for him and he still shot him in the head while the boy was bent over the bait’s body, and all the others, all the boys who loved and trusted him, and failed the test he brought them into? Was there any good reason not to?

…there were the boys who’d lived. Adults now, all of them, but they loved and respected him as their old uncle, and they still were willing to spend time with him, sometimes. There were the girls, who yelled “Mister Matt! Mister Matt!” when they saw him and crowded around him, showing off their accomplishments, and he’d never have to take any of them up the mountain. There are trans boys who just figured it out, and need an older man to mentor them and teach them how to be a man, and none of them will ever need to go up the mountain either. There are the gay boys who want to talk to him about boyfriends, and how to date a guy, and how sex works, and all the other things gay boys need to know.

He can still help the children. But he’s never going to take on a little boy as his nephew again.

After a few more moments, he picks up Roy’s rifle, which can’t fall into the wrong hands, and his own pistol, and slings them into the holsters he has for them, on his belt or on his back. Then he picks Roy up and cradles him. A fireman’s carry would be easier, especially with the long hike down the mountain, but he wants to give his boy’s body as much dignity as he can. He won’t sling Roy over his shoulder like a flour sack. He’ll carry the dead weight of the boy down the mountain, and then he’ll carry it for the rest of his life.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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triggers listed at bottom because they are spoilers

dashboard removes all the line spaces

so I have to put lines in

Triggers: Child death. Serious misogyny. A backstory from the original story that involves a worldwide near-complete femicide.

#52 project #inktober 2020 #alara's october 2020 prompt fics #horror #science fiction #spooky5 #more horrifying than spooky though

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

Text

Careless - Jamie Benn

Requested: No

Word Count: 3107

Warning: Cursing

Song Inspiration: Nickelback - Next Contestant

Notes: So confession, I sometimes just throw my playlist on shuffle to see what comes up. This song came up on the way home from work and I just couldn’t stop picturing Jamie Benn. I just feel like he’d be super protective with his woman. So here’s my take on it. Still working on Nervous Regrets but just had to write this first. Let me know what you think.

READER’S POV

Slipping on the skimpy cocktail dress, that left nothing to the imagination; you checked the mirror one last time before gliding out onto the bar room floor. Picking up the tray, you mouthed a quick hello to Isaac and Carl, tonight’s bartenders; sashaying over to one of your tables, you got to work. It wasn’t a bad place to work, it was upscale, somewhat classy; though some nights you couldn’t tell by the clientele. That they allowed you to get up on stage every weekend and have your music heard, was a bonus. It was a win, win for the both of you. Traffic definitely picked up on those nights, when you were standing behind the microphone; and most times you didn’t mind helping out before or after your set. Tonight, was one of those nights. You’d just performed for the last hour, now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going. As for you, you’d make sure that the customers were satisfied and the alcohol continued to constantly flow.

After grabbing a few drinks for a couple tables; Kelsey, your friend and co-worker came up to you. “Great set tonight (Y/N). You know, Careless is my favorite song you do.”

“Aww, thanks Kels. I love that one too.”

“Hey before I forget, table 18 is asking for you. I think a few of them have a thing for you.” Batting her eyelashes at you. “Switch me tables, I’ll take 23. I’m a sucker for the nerdy type.”

Chuckling, “Mmm Hmm…I know you. Look out Sheldon Cooper, here comes Kelsey Brown.”

“Ooo a man with a brain is so hot. Stop turning me on. We’ve still got hours here.” With that she swayed over to the table to work her charm on the semi-attractive guy in glasses.

Glancing over to the table Kelsey had mentioned moments ago, you were half tempted to go trade her back; for you weren’t sure you could handle all the male testosterone coming from there. What looked to be about eight overly good-looking athletes all sat, laughing, joking and drinking way over priced liquor. Tray in hand you made your way over, but not before some guy at one of your other tables grabbed your ass; which unfortunately was not an uncommon event. Smiling prettily, you removed his hand and put on that southern charm, “I’ll be right with you sugar. Just gotta grab that table right there.” You’d just filled all their drinks and knew they’d be good for at least the next twenty minutes.

“Hurry back.” He called after you; what he didn’t see was the eye roll you gave him or the mental fuck off finger you had popping up in your brain.

JAMIE’S POV

Tonight’s win had you all ready to celebrate, and so when someone suggested heading to the bar; you were all in. This wasn’t your usual hangout; normally someone would suggest some up and coming trendy nightclub, and that’s where you’d all end up. Rads, however had mentioned he’d been here before; and enjoyed the atmosphere. You could see why, when the beauty up on stage belted out some song, that could easily be playing on the top one hundred charts; you couldn’t take your eyes off her. While her looks initially drew you in, it was her voice that kept you mesmerized; soft, silky smooth notes floating out of a mouth you just wanted to kiss for days. It seemed like she no sooner started then she was off the stage; replaced by some obnoxious DJ, who played a little too loud for his surroundings.

“That girl is amazing, in every way.” It was a statement that didn’t come from your mouth but one that you could totally agree with from Tyler.

“Yeah, she sing here almost every weekend,” this from Rads. “She’s waited on me couple time.”

Needing to know more you asked, “Wait she’s a waitress too? I thought she was just a singer.”

“Yeah, you know she like does both.”

Just then your waitress came up asking if you needed more drinks. “Hey, is the girl who was just singing, working tonight?” leave it to Seggy to just cut to the chase.

“Yeah, she is, want me to send her over?”

“Absolutely” the man was not subtle at times.

“Not that you aren’t great and everything.” You added, hoping not to hurt her feelings.

“It’s no problem.” She said with a wicked wink.

Watching the waitress move towards the songstress, you saw them speak briefly; then watched as she made her way to your table, but not before some asshole pawed at her ass. Anger seethed inside you. Being out of earshot you couldn’t hear her response to the mongrel; what you did see was the slight eye roll she gave as she turned. Briefly you wondered how many encounters like these she had a night; you didn’t have a chance to contemplate it before she was standing beside.

“Gentlemen, nice to see you all. I’m (Y/N), what can I get you tonight?”

That’s when Seggy decided to make a bigger ass of himself than most times. “I don’t know, what’s on the menu? Me -N -U?” Wincing, you knew the pickup line had to be one of the worst that ever came out of someone’s mouth; while most of the guys laughed, inwardly you groaned.

“I’m pretty sure Me-N-U didn’t make it past your ego, but if you’d like to order something else, I’d be happy to help you.” Ouch, she could hold her own; it was more of turn on then you wanted to admit.

Hoping to make up for the rest of the jerks at your table, you politely asked; “We’ll just have a round of beers and some shots of Don Julio Real, please.”

“I’ll be right back with those.”

“Segs, you gotta do another one of those when she comes back.” For a big man, Olesksiak couldn’t hold his liquor well or his tongue for that matter; lord knows Tyler didn’t need any encouragement.

“Leave her alone man, she probably gets tired of the bullshit all the time.”

“Aww Chubbs, we’re just having a little fun. No harm. Besides she seems to give as good as she gets.”

“Just try and act like a decent human for once in your life, will you Segs.” The odds of that happening were slim to none.

She came back to the table then, handing drinks out one by one. Each time she leaned forward, her dress gave you a nice glimpse of her full round breasts; that they were on display for everyone here to see had you fighting the urge to cover her with your suit jacket. Tyler, glided a finger up her arm, causing her to turn and look at him with questioning eyes. “Screw me if I’m wrong, but don’t I know you?”

(Y/N) paused for a second, as if truly wondering had they met before. “Hmmm. Does your ass get jealous of the all the shit that comes out of your mouth?” The table erupted in laughter, Seggy included. “Thank you, gentlemen, I’m here all night. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other customers. I’ll be back to see if your pick up lines get any better.”

Your teammates chatted endlessly about her; each of them trying to come up with a better pickup line for when she came back. Concentrating on the woman, instead of some hyped game of whose line is better; you watched her take some orders, then head over to the bar. Long strides had you at her side in no time. “(Y/N) isn’t it?” when she nodded, you continued; “Look I just want to apologize for the other assholes at my table. We’ve probably had one too many. It’s just they were a little excited with the win and everything…” you were rambling. “Not that, that’s an excuse or anything. Ummm…anyhow I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way they’ve been acting.”

She smiled sweetly at you, and it melted your heart. “Don’t sweat it. It happens all the time.” She touched your arm then, an unconscious gesture but one that went straight to your groin all the same. “I’m used to it, but thank you for the apology.”

Turning back to the bar, she dismissed the conversation as over; but you weren’t ready for that yet. “I also wanted to say…your voice…I mean….” God you were terrible with women; it was like you turned into a babbling idiot. “It was beautiful. Did you write those songs?”

“Awww thank you, yes I did. Which one did you like best?” she seemed genuinely interested; that you had her full attention, had you elaborating more.

“I’m not sure of the name, but something about….don’t be careless with my heart, for although we’re worlds apart, I still need you here with me…I’m not exactly sure of the right words. It has a great melody; you should be on the radio.”

Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Wow I’m impressed you were listening. The songs called Careless; it’s one of my favorites too. And thanks for the compliments, the band and I have been working on cutting an album, but that takes money. Speaking of which, I gotta get these drinks out. It was nice to talk to you….”

“Jamie,” you supplied.

“Nice to meet you Jamie. I’ll be back over at the table a little later.”

READER’S POV

Jamie, it suited him, with his large frame you expected it to be Jim or James; but no Jamie fit him perfectly. It spoke to the softer side of him, one that you could see in that first encounter. He wasn’t like the rest of them at his table; it was a nice change of pace. The rest of the night went pretty much as expected, a hand placed here or a comment there; the lewd looks from different men as they ogled your breasts. Jamie was different though, no raunchy remark or crude stare; though he did look, it was just more with appreciation then lust.

All night you waited for him to make a move, ask you out or maybe even try and hold your hand, for it seemed more in his wheelhouse; but he didn’t. So, when he showed up the next night, it took you by surprise. He was by himself this time, but still grabbed a table none the less; though he seemed to have a knack for not picking your section.

“Your boyfriend from last night’s here.” Kelsey tormented. “He’s asking for you again.”

“Kels he’s not my boyfriend. He barely said a few words to me.”

“Doesn’t change the fact he’s back again tonight and asking for you.”

Shaking your head, you strolled over to his table. “Miss me already?” you said teasingly.

“What…uh…ummm.” He was cute when he was flustered.

“Relax I’m just kidding with you. So, what can I get you tonight Jamie?”

“Oh, you remembered my name.”

Playfully you answered. “I try to remember all my cute customers.”

Blushing at your words, his cheeks turned a becoming shade of red. “I’ll just have a beer.”

“One beer coming right up.” It literally took all of ten seconds to get the beer, so you were back at his table in no time. “Here ya go, anything else I can get ya?”

“No, I’m good.” He seemed to hesitate, as if there was something more he wanted to say. Finally, he spit it out. “So are you going to be singing tonight.”

Maybe he just liked your music and not you, it was somewhat refreshing; that was if you didn’t think that he was totally sexy as fuck. “Sadly no, I usually only sing here on Friday or Saturday night. The rest of the time you just get me as your server.”

He smiled, and heat pooled in your nether regions. “I’m ok with that.” Looks like you were wrong and he was interested; well you’d just have to see how the rest of the night went.

“(Y/N) drinks for table 7 are ready.”

“Duty calls. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Sunday night usually wasn’t that busy, so it afforded you the chance to get to know Jamie more. You found out that he was a professional hockey player for the Dallas Stars, that he enjoyed cooking and had a great appreciation for music. If you both had been on the same dating website, you would’ve been matched in an instant; though for some reason Jamie seemed reluctant to ask you out. Staying until closing time, he walked to you to your car; where you were sure he’d at least kiss you. Disappointment coursed through you when he didn’t.

The next several weeks were pretty much the same, Jamie showing up on nights that you worked and he was free; always the gentleman, but never asking you out. You started to wonder if you were reading him wrong; maybe he was just lonely and seeking friendship. That was until one particular night.

It was crowded, you’d finished your set, put your uniform on, if you could call a skin tight dress a uniform; and headed out to wait tables. The men were handsy that night, one particular table being down right obnoxious. Pickup lines were the least of your worries with them. It was a grab of your ass here, someone pulling you by the waist there; but the icing on the cake was the hand that traveled up your inner thigh. It was cringe worthy and had you gathering your wits each time you headed back to the bar.

Making your way to Jamie’s table you stopped to check and see if he needed another drink. “Are they bothering you?” His arms were folded across his chest, and you could tell he saw the whole thing play out.

“It’s fine Jamie, I can handle it.” You weren’t sure how true that statement was, but you’d see how the night played out before you went calling for help.

JAMIE’S POV

Anger boiled inside you; the only thing tamping it down was the fact that you didn’t want to make a scene in front of (Y/N). What you really wanted to do was rip the assholes into shreds. They mauled at her, made lewd remarks; yet she took it all in stride. You hated that she had this job, even the damn dress that was supposed to be her uniform had you seething. She was a goddess and deserved to be treated that way; why you hadn’t made a move on her, you weren’t sure. Only fear of rejection had kept you silent. The woman could have any person, man or woman if she wanted; all she had to do was say the word. Yet in the few weeks that you’d known her you hadn’t seen her with either sex.

Over the last few weeks you’d watch men buy her drinks, trying to garner her favor; she declined them all. Pickup lines were non-stop, and God bless her, she had a witty comeback for each one. Tonight, just seemed like a culmination of everything all rolled into one; they all wanted in her pants, metaphorically and literally speaking. You weren’t about to let that happen.

Hours passed and with each minute, the temperature of your blood rose. The rowdy bunch of twenty somethings continued their torment, even as the crowd thinned down leaving just a few stragglers behind. Eyes trained on her; she made her way over to the table for last call. One of them grabbed her and pulled her hard onto his lap; causing her to drop the empty tray. You couldn’t hear his words, but you saw his hand snake up her side and cup her breast. She twisted in his arms in an attempt to break free; you were out of your seat before you even knew what was happening.

Before he could make another move, you placed your hand firmly on his shoulder and squeezed the bastard as hard as you could. “Is that your hand on my girlfriend?” His eyes bulged out of his head as you loomed over him. When he neither released her or said anything, you repeated it. “Is that your hand?” He let her go then, and she scrambled off his lap.

“Look man we were just having fun.”

“Mmmm…want to try it again and see how much fun it will be with me outside? Because I’d love to just bash your head in right now?” You tighten your grip on the little asshole; and he winced in pain.

(Y/N) tugged on your arm. “It’s not worth it Jamie.”

“I think they’re ready to close their tab, aren’t you boys?” They all nodded. “Good, I expect you’ll be generous in your tips for all the hassle you’ve given my girl tonight.” With that you released the pipsqueak, and took (Y/N)’s hand leading her away.

She dumped the tray on the bar, and pulled you into the back. “Jamie, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you. The girlfriend part was a nice touch, though.”

“I didn’t say it for affect. I said it because I want it to be true.” You hadn’t asked her out, didn’t even know how she felt about you. All you knew is that you wanted this woman to belong to you and you alone.

Her lips turned up in a what you could only describe as the sexiest smile you’d ever seen. “I think that can be arranged.” She slid her hands up your chest; instinctively you wrapped yours around her waist and drew her closer to press up against your body. Leaning down you molded your lips to her, in a sweet and devasting kiss. She opened easily for you and your tongue swept in to taste the essence that was her. She was sweet and sass all rolled into one, and you took your time to explore her mouth. Demanding more as the kiss went on; she met you every step of the way. She moaned helplessly into your mouth and it was your undoing. If you didn’t stop now, you weren’t sure you ever would. Gently you pulled back from the kiss, thumb softly caressing her cheek as your harsh breathes mingled. “Let’s get out of here.” She whispered to you and you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. Only you were wrong, that would come later when she was under you writhing in pleasure, as she cried out your name.

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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lemonz-and-limez · 5 years ago

Note

can you do a really fluffy fic after their Nobel awarding ceremony? Like they do walk around Sweden and stuff... btw I miss them so bad I need more fics

A/N: It has been a minute… but I’m back! I went on a trip a few weeks ago then I got back and my health decided it wanted to play tricks on me. But I’m recovered (?) and working on my WIPs and prompts once more.

As far as one shots go, this is a long one, little more than 4500 words. I am really excited about this one and hope you guys like it. I did add some angst in the beginning (because I can’t help myself) but other than that it’s pretty fluffy in my opinion. Enjoy!

—

When Sheldon was quiet, it was because he was thinking about something or he was upset and needed to process. Often it was both, and Amy could tell that it was. His leg was bouncing furiously against her own. His eyes were firmly fixed on the table in front of him. His eyebrows were drawn into a tight knot, deep creases running in his forehead. His upper teeth were alternating between biting the left and right side of his lower lip. While their friends conversed around them, Amy kept her eyes focused on her husband.

He’d been quiet since the ceremony ended and though the first course of their meal. Now, as they waited on the main dish, Amy felt it necessary to cut through whatever thoughts plagued Sheldon’s mind.

She gently rested her hand on his thumping knee, her touch causing the movement to cease immediately. “Hey, you doing ok?” She asked, low enough for him to hear her, but not loud enough to disrupt the conversation at their table.

Their eyes met in a wordless gaze. His eyes told her, ‘no, nothing is ok.’ But his words said, “Yes, everything is fine.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and rested his hand over hers, his fingers intertwining with her own.

Before Amy could say something, the waiter brought the main course and lulled the conversation between their friends. While they ate, Amy joined in on whatever topic their friends were discussing, but kept a close eye on Sheldon. Sheldon, who only responded when spoken to.

On some level, Amy was annoyed with him; however, she couldn’t stop thinking about the day and what it meant to him. He had been waiting for that day his entire life when he would finally have that gold medal hanging from his neck. A sign that he changed the world. However, his whole life, he thought that the recognition would only belong to him. That he would need, nor have to acknowledge that anyone else helped him along the way. So, when he started pushing away the people who stood by him, he was shocked when they willingly let themselves be pushed. He thought it belonged to him and him only. But no, it belonged to their friends as well. Amy recognized that long before Sheldon did. Sheldon thought it was their honor to watch him receive the Nobel. That was far from the truth. In reality, it should have been Sheldon who was honored to have them there. And they were tired of him not being able to see it.

And perhaps Amy had been too harsh with her words. Maybe she could have said it gentler while remaining firm. However, her frustration with him had reached its boiling point, and, honey, the pot was full. Unfortunately, her approach was the only way to make him understand how much he had hurt their friends. Were her hurtful? Yes. But were they untrue? No. Sheldon’s naivety about social cues and other people’s feelings had improved much over the years. However, he was still ungraceful, and for the most part, had a difficult time understanding others, including her. People tolerated him because they knew that he didn’t know any better. As much as she hated to admit it, she was guilty of it at times too. No matter how imperfect he was, there were things he did that pissed her off to no extent. But she loved him enough to tolerate those actions.

When she spoke those words to him, she had not intended for them to hurt him. That would be like returning an eye for an eye, something Amy never really believed in. Her intent with yelling at him was to help him see that he did play some part in why their friends were abandoning them. And while her outburst seemed to accomplish that, it also struck a nerve in Sheldon that was causing him immense discomfort. For which part, she did not know.

She needed to talk to him; figure out which part exactly he was upset about.

As the table finished up the main course, she glanced around to make sure nobody was looking. Confident that no one was paying them any mind, she reached for his hand and pulled him with her away from the table. With him following her in tow, she briskly navigated the twists and turns of the banquet in City Hall. The couple’s abrupt exit caught the attention of a few other guests, but as a whole, their departure was mostly ignored.

She pulled him into a more secluded area of the building. Past the bathrooms down the hall next to a utility closet. She stopped next to the door and looked around to make sure nobody had followed them.

“Are you ok?” She asked once confirmed their solitude. “You’ve been quiet all evening.”

Amy watched the gears turn in her husband’s brain. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her, something he only did when something was troubling him. He focused keenly on something behind her, just past her head. His eyes shifted in their sockets, panicking, looking for an answer he didn’t honestly know the answer to. He went with a safe response and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

She sighed at his response. Neither confirming nor denying. “Was it something that Leonard said? That I said?” She pried, mentally slapping herself for the stupidity of her questioning.

He tightly shook his head, but she didn’t believe him. She could see the way his hand trembled as his fingers traced the Nobel hanging from his neck.

Right as she was about to pry once more, he interrupted her with a question that nearly shattered her heart. “Do you only tolerate me?”

There were only a couple feet between them, but Amy rushed to close the gap. “No, sweetheart, no!” she assured him, taking his face in her hands. “There are things you do that annoy me, sure, but I love you enough to look past those things.”

“But there are things that you only tolerate?”

She nodded. “Of course, with any person, you love, there are things you simply must tolerate, but you do it because you love them.” Amy reached down and took his hands in hers, running her thumb over his knuckles.

“Our friends?” He questioned, keeping his head low. “Do you think they only ever tolerate me? Am I that unbearable?”

“No!” She exclaimed softly, tightening her grip on his hands. “Why do you think they stayed, Sheldon? Sure you were an ass earlier,” she gave him a soft smile to let him know she was only joking. “But they stayed because they love you.”

Sheldon still didn’t look convinced. She hated this look on him. No matter how arrogant he could be at times, he had insecurities that ran deep; things that could be brought up in just a few words. He had never let any of their friends see his diffidence, only her, and she’d heard enough about what he’s thinking to know how to fix the situation.

“I don’t like the way you tap your fingers together when you’re irritated,” she blurted out.

Sheldon’s face contorted in confusion. “Amy, what?”

“Or the way you don’t always take my interests seriously. I hate that.” She paused. “But I love the way you always kiss my forehead in the morning. I love that you always let me use the bathroom first when we wake up, even though I know you rather would.”

“Amy, what are you doing?”

“I like that you’ll give me a foot massage if I’ve had a long day. I like that sometimes you want to be the little spoon. I like that you insist on holding my hand after we make love.” After every compliment, Amy took a step closer to him, sliding her hands up his shoulders. “Sheldon, sweetheart, the list of tiny things you do for me is astronomical. All those little things blot out the smaller annoyances. Do you understand?”

Sheldon nodded.

“Good,” she nearly whispered, running her hands down his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier…” she apologized, her voice trailing off.

Sheldon took a step back from her. “I’m sorry too. If I hadn’t been acting like a child in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to yell at me.”

Amy gave him a gentle smile, mirroring the one she gave him when they got married. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, but I think if we don’t go back out soon, our friends will send out a search party,” Sheldon joked, moving out of their small nook; however, he could see a glint spark in his wife’s eyes. Vixen.

She moved her fingers to trace the golden medal, still hanging from his neck. “Let them search,” she said in a low voice, grabbing the cords of the Nobel and pulling him to her. Her lips immediately sought his, and they attached as if the other was oxygen. Amy’s hands found the hair at the base of his neck and tangled her fingers into it. She felt his lips vibrate with the soft moan he let out.

Together their mouths danced in fiery pleasure, and much to Amy’s surprise, Sheldon was going along with it. Less than fifty feet away was a dining hall that occupied the King of Sweden, plus his family, and some of the most respected people in the world. All were wearing the same gold medal with a purple cord that she tightly held onto while she let her husband drown her with kisses.

Suddenly, Sheldon backed her further into their tiny niche and pinned her against the door of the utility closet. It wasn’t forceful, but it was rough enough for Amy to tear away from the kiss immediately. “Wait,” she said in a breathy voice. Sheldon looked wordily down at her, also trying to catch his breath.

“I’m ok,” she assured him. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” She gripped at her stomach to try and calm it down along with her animated breathing.

After a few moments, she was able to steady her breathing. However, her hand remained clutched to her stomach, and for a brief moment, she hoped Sheldon couldn’t see the panic behind her eyes.

But he did.

“You ok now?” He asked softly, his pale blue eyes searching for an answer.

“Of course,” she replied.

The two stayed quiet for a moment, not quite sure what to say to each other. “Umm, maybe we should…” Amy stammered. “Maybe we should head back.”

What Sheldon said next shocked her. “To our hotel room, yeah.” Amy’s eyes widened at him almost comically to which he chuckled. Slowly he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a one on one celebration. What about you, my dear?”

All she could do was shudder against his breath.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He asked as he pulled away and slowly began to back out of their little nook.

“Oh, most defiantly,” she muttered, gleefully following him as they stealthily moved back into the dining hall.

Thankfully, the main entrance of the building was not far from where the restrooms were located. All they needed to do was exit the hall leading to the bathrooms and make a right, which would land them almost immediately in the coatroom. However, there were at least twenty feet between the two open doorways, and there were many tables lined up in the short distance. Amy hoped that if they were quick and quiet enough that nobody would pay mind to their early departure.

As the two of them walked carefully along the wall, side by side, they managed to not catch anybody’s attention.

“Dr. Cooper, Dr. Fowler!” Someone exclaimed in a heavy Russian accent right as they made it to the front of the main lobby.

Amy turned her head to see another laureate coming at them with open arms. She immediately recognized him. Dr. Sokolov. A Russian scientist who won his Nobel in chemistry. Sheldon had told her about him, and surprisingly, he was one of the few people who Sheldon didn’t talk down.

Amy wasn’t intimidated as the older scientist shuffled toward them. He was at least twice Sheldon’s age, but that didn’t stop the glee from spreading across his face as he came to a stop in front of them.

“Dr. Fowler, Dr. Cooper, it is so nice to meet you!” Dr. Sokolov rejoiced as he enveloped her in a hug. When he moved to shake Sheldon’s hand, her husband accepted gracefully. However, after the Russian doctor turned back to her, she could see him stealthily grab the bottle of Purel hidden in his inner coat pocket.

“After I read your work on Super Asymmetry, I just knew you two would win it,” he chuckled, looking like a five-year-old in a candy shop. “I would love to discuss your discovery, if you have time, of course.”

Just as Amy was about to interject, Sheldon spoke up for her. “I’m sorry, Dr. Sokolov, but we’re just heading out.” The older man’s shoulder sunk defeatedly. “But, we would love to discuss it with you tomorrow at the Palace.”

“It’s a date, Dr. Cooper,” Dr, Sokolov joked making Sheldon, surprisingly, chuckle as well. “You two have a great night.”

And with that the Dr. departed from them, missing Sheldon’s mumbled reply. “Oh, we’re going to have a fantastic night.”

They returned to their hotel room fully adorned with heavy winter coats and their Nobles. As exciting as the evening was for them, they couldn’t be happier to be back in their suite.

Sheldon helped his wife out of her coat before he shrugged off his own. He neatly folded the articles of clothing over the couch back; careful not to wrinkle them.

Amy gulped as he turned back to her, his eyes full of longing, full of love. It was a look she had seen on him before. The night they first slept together. Their engagement. Their wedding day. His eyes, on every occasion, held such power over her, they never failed to make her weak in the knees.

His hand cupped her cheek when he came closer to her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention immediately, something that did not go unnoticed by him. As he moved his hand down, his fingers gently caressed the tender skin of her neck. His thumb pressed gently against the hollow between her neck and clavicle, a place Sheldon knew would make her body shudder. It did, but he did not back down. He tickled the feathered sleeves of her dress before traveling down her arm. His light, barely there, touches were so affectionate, so pure, that Amy had to close her eyes from the emotion behind it.

He finally landed on the small of her back and pulled her body flush with his. Their medals clinking together at the contact. Using his free hand, he intertwined the fingers of his left with her right. It was so intimate, Amy almost forgot that they were in the same position they danced their first song together.

Sheldon knew this as well; he’d planned it that way. Before either could say a word, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed play on the song that he queued up in the limo. Haphazardly dropping his phone onto the couch, he took her hand once more.

They hadn’t stayed long enough to enjoy slow dancing at the banquet, something Sheldon knew that Amy wanted to do with him. So, it warmed her heart when Sheldon began to sway with the music. Even though she would have enjoyed the banquet dance, there was something about this that made it all the more personal. Sophisticated. Intimate.

The way that Sheldon moved so perfectly with the tempo, gracefully guiding her through the steps, taking the lead. How he let her prop her head under his chin and how he buried his nose in her hair.

They worked together like a well-oiled machine, not once slipping up or stepping on each other’s toes, a contrast to how it had been at their wedding. Amy listened to her husband’s heartbeat against his chest, laughing internally as it seemed to sync with the beat of the music. Sheldon took in his wife’s aroma, bathing in the cherry scent of her shampoo.

They stayed like in one position for the entirety of the song. Too wrapped up in each other to break the embrace. And even as the song drew to its conclusion, they continued to rock in their embrace, not daring to break the connection they had formed together.

Sheldon did end up breaking the silence with and “I love you” mumbled softly into her hair.

Reluctantly, Amy pulled her head away from his chest, immediately missing its warmth as she did so. Yet, the tenderness she saw in his eyes quickly replaced the lack of literal body heat. “I love you more,” she teased, flashing him a small smile.

Sheldon shook his head no, but his mirrored smile gave it away. “That’s not possible,” he said, softly, as he leaned down to kiss her.

Unlike their kiss from earlier in their corner, this one was gentle and soft. Their lips moved together as though they’d done so their whole life. He brought a hand to gently cradle her face; a loving gesture that made her give a soft mewl in appreciation. And, oh, how he loved the small noises from her. His body reacted immediately. Trying to pull her even closer to him; squeezing her, making breathing a task.

She hated doing it, but she had to pull away, he was holding her too tight.

“Sorry,” she apologized almost immediately. “I couldn’t breathe.”

He nodded his head. “I understand,” he said, but then paused. “Would you like to move this elsewhere?” He asked, not crudely, but rather in the quiet way he always asked for consent.

She wanted to, a lot, but there was something she needed to do first. She wanted to do it before the ceremony, however, after the whole debacle, she decided to wait, for a moment tender as the one before her.

“Hold on,” she said, pushing away from him. Moving toward a bag that she had hidden in the corner of the room. She left him rooted in the same place, confused as she began to rummage through the bag’s contents before finding what she was looking for.

“There’s something I wanted to give you first,” she explained as she handed him a neatly wrapped box.

The simple gold and black wrapping paper elegantly hugged the curves of whatever it contained that Sheldon was almost apprehensive about opening it. When he looked up to meet Amy’s gaze, she nodded, encouraging him.

As the paper was peeled away, he felt a velvet material beneath his fingers. It appeared to be a jewelry box.

“What is this?” Sheldon asked, tugging at the latch to the box.

It was a rhetorical question, Amy knew that. And it was worth a wordless answer when Sheldon opened it to peer at its contents.

A gold-encrusted pocket watch, another one to add to his collection. She had the engraving on the outside plate specially designed for something that she knew would tailor perfectly to Sheldon. The structure of an Atom. Crafted perfectly and precisely, 100% scientifically accurate, she made sure of it. However, the real surprise was the engraving on the inside, something he hadn’t gotten to yet.

“Amy, it’s beautiful,” he gushed, his fingers running over the Atom.

“I know, open it.”

When he did, a tiny folded up piece of paper fell out. However, when he moved to read it, she stopped him. “Read the engraving first.”

“They will be the perfect arrangement of atoms”

He had already begun unfolding the small piece of paper as he read the quote, and for the briefest moment, he was confused as to what Amy meant by the engraving. Until he glanced down at the tiny 4x3, black and white sonogram in his hand.

He drew a breath in through his nose. “You’re… you’re pregnant?” He asked shakily, his voice catching in his throat.

She nodded, but he remained silent, staring down at the watch and sonogram in his hand. He could feel his emotions at the surface, ready to break through the wall that Sheldon had kept up most of the evening. They’d made a baby. Amy was going to have his child. Their child.

His finger traced the outline of the bean-shaped object. The object he knew was a little bundle of cells that contained their combined DNA. That would grow into a human being with its own traits, abilities, and emotions. A human that only came to existence because of the bond, the love, he shared with his wife.

“You’re pregnant,” he said again, making a statement rather than a question.

“Yes,” she beamed, moving forward to wrap her arms around his waist. He still held the sonogram in his hand, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the first picture taken of his child. Their child.

It was several moments before he uttered: “Thank you.”

She looked up at him, confused. “For what? You played a part in this too, you know,” Amy said, giving him a playful smirk.

He pulled away from her, his free hand coming to rest on her hip. “No, not for the baby.” He thought for a moment. “Well, a little the baby, but rather for everything. For telling me what I needed to hear, for sticking by me even though I can be irritating, for loving me enough to tolerate the bad stuff.”

Call it pregnancy hormones or the raging emotions behind what could be construed as one of the greatest days of their lives, Amy couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in her eyes. She knew that he meant every word of his confession, and she also knew that there was much more behind it. However, she wasn’t going to push her husband for more, she knew he had a rough day. All she wanted to do was hold Sheldon close and relish in their victory.

Cupping her hands on his cheeks, she brought his head down for a chaste, but tender, kiss to his lips. “I don’t want to do anything more tonight, Sheldon, all I want is for you to hold me.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, squeezing her hipbone. “Why don’t you and our little progeny go get ready for bed. I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”

Their bedtime routine at home usually gave Sheldon the first right to the bathroom, so, she was grateful that he let his usual habit go for the day. She smiled up and him and darted to the bathroom before he could change his mind.

The bathroom in their suite was considerably larger than the one back home. It was large enough for the shower and bath to be separate from each other, with the shower itself almost its own room. Instead of one sink, there were two, one on either side when one walked in the door. The toilet granted its own stall with a door and everything.

After their week in Sweden, it was going to be difficult to readjust to their tiny apartment once again.

As Amy moved to the hooks where she left her garment bag from earlier, she tried and failed to unzip the back of her dress. Admittedly, she did have Sheldon zip it up earlier, however, after many years of wearing zippered skirts, one would think she could manage a dress.

“Sheldon!” She beckoned, still trying to unzip it herself.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here?”

He burst through the door less than ten seconds later. “What’s wrong?” He asked, trying desperately to act as though he was not panicked.

“Nothing, I just need you to unzip my dress for me,” she explained, dropping her arms helplessly at her side.

He deflated with relief. “Oh, ok,” he said, his arms already outstretched as he moved towards her. She held her hands against her chest to keep the dress from falling off as he freed her from the garment. The zipper moved fast a gracefully down her back, she expected nothing less from a down that cost them nearly as much as it did.

“There you go,” he whispered as he trailed the zipper to the end of its line.

She turned back towards him, awkwardly. “Thank you.”

As he turned to leave, she called his name once more. “There’s plenty of room in here for both of us, just stay and get ready for bed with me,” she requested, slipping out of her dress and into the hotel supplied robe.

He complied with her wish and begun to change out of his tuxedo. With his outfit having many more components than hers, by the time he had also changed into a robe, she was nearly done wiping the last of her makeup away. As the maneuver together through their usual, but at the same time unusual, bedtime routine, not a word is spoken between them. Every so often, one will catch the other smiling at them through the mirror on opposite sides of the room. And every time the one who gets caught will blush and turn away while the recipient of their gaze smiles warmly at the affection.

It takes a mere ten minutes before they are both dressed in their pajamas and pulling back the covers to the massive king-sized bed. As though it was habitual, both of them immediately migrated to the middle of the sheets, basking in each other’s warmth.

“Well,” she said, questioningly once they got situated. “You want to be the little spoon?”

He chuckled and turned on his side, facing her. “I think I’d like to take on the role of big spoon tonight.”

They both moved to kiss each other, as they did every night before she turned away from him. She leaned back against him as his torso came in contact with her back. Her emotions got the better of her when his hand immediately came to rest over her stomach, tracing the very spot he knew their baby was growing.

“I can’t believe there’s a baby in there,” he mused with wonder and amazement, tracing the number 143 over and over again.

“I know,” she said. “I love them too.”

No other words were spoken that night, they didn’t need any. Their actions spoke louder than their words. Every so often, Sheldon would place the softest of kisses on her shoulder before he nuzzled her hair. She kept her hand firmly grasped over his, the one resting on her stomach.

When sleep finally came, he was too tired and too relaxed to fight it. The patterns traced on her stomach came to a slow stop. His head fell back against his own pillow, and his breathing steadied into his slumber. However, his hand remained stationary over their baby, a gesture she appreciated even more as she realized he had succumbed to the peacefulness of sleep.

She stayed awake for a few more moments, tracing the surface of his wedding band, the sharp ridges of his knuckles, and the blood vessels in the back of his hand. Every once in a while, he would twitch in his sleep and involuntarily grasp her hand. After the third time, she firmly took hold of his hand, letting her heavy lids finally slide close as well. But before she too fell into unconsciousness, she traced what Sheldon had told the baby earlier.

143… I love you.

A/N: Hope that wasn’t too bad… Thank you so much for reading 😊

#shamy fanfic #shamy

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i-got-that-fandom-kinda-love · 6 years ago

Text

A to Z favourite TV show challenge! Or # to Z?

# - 30 Rock (Liz Lemmon! This is just all kinds of hilarity).

A - Ally McBeal (there's not enough of this on Tumblr btw. I loved it before I understood it - my brother watched and I followed. And then I watched again and I loved it more) / Arrow (so years ago I started watching this because of Tumblr. You guys were obsessed with Olicity and I was too even though I hadn't watched the show. So I watched it. Thank you for ruining my life btw) / Accidentally in Love (Asian Series, sup, @netflix - thanks for getting me addicted to Asian series - I liked them before but now it's just there and begging to be watched AND I CAN'T HELP MYSELF - YOU'VE ADDICTED MY MOTHER TOO).

B - Brooklyn Nine Nine (best thing to happen to me, thank you Tumblr - the nine nine fandom. Also started it a couple years ago and fell in love hard. This show makes me laugh no matter what and it's pure and I love it so much. It's really a show I needed because when I watch series I get really emotionally involved and certain shows leave me so stressed that I have to take a break and all I can watch is comedies for a few weeks. Or months. Depends on how big my heart break was. B99 always makes me laugh and feel lighter). / Buffy the Vampire Slayer (another one from my childhood, you know when you're too young to really understand but old enough to remember it? So yeah, my brother got me hooked at a young age and the addiction stuck. Because I've never been able to forget Buffy. And I've recently been rewatching it with my mother - she too is a bit addicted).

C - Charmed (Original series, not reboot - I haven't even watched the reboot. But yes, Charmed. I remember being up til 10PM on a Monday while I was in primary (middle) school just to watch it. Halliwell sisters are another drug I never could kick - Leo was one of my first ever crushes - my very first crush was Shahrukh Khan and if we're ever talking Bollywood movies he'll be all over that post).

D - Doctor Who (Okay! I only started watching from season 5, again cos NETFLIX - the Doctor and Amy Pond - man, just lock me up in the TARDIS and take me away already. ALSO one of the series that broke my heart enough that rendered me incapable of watching any other series except comedy).

E - Ek Hazaroon Mein Meri Behna Hai (Hindi series; my sister is one in a thousand - I assume it's the name because that sounds better in Hindi than one in a million or billion. There's something about Hindi series that sucks you in and tortures you until you're on the brick of exploding from suspense - the build up is both infuriating and renders you unable to tear your eyes away).

F - Friends ('Cause it's been there for me and how can I not? Again, childhood. Also. Heroes get remembered but legends never die. And I've watched every episode like a gazillion times and laugh just the same - I think even more 'cause I know what's gonna happen. I'm one of those people). / Fairy Tail (Anime. Magic. Friendship. Friendship. Friendship. It's one of those rare shows that has a lot of characters and manages to make you love each one of them. I found it after high school but I love it to bits).

G - Gilmore Girls (I remember the first time I watched this as a kid, Rory and Lorelei were sitting at Luke's diner and chatting about something and I though they were sisters. I was at my cousin's house and I just couldn't stop watching them. Loved it ever since. And it's strange how a randomly watching TV can just change your life - 'cause you know, I obsess) / Gossip Girl (at first, I'd watched it because Kristen Bell was the voice of Gossip Girl. And I needed anything related to anything Veronica Mars. And then I naturally loved it like everybody else. Also disappointed at who GG really was. So yeah.)

H - How I Met Your Mother (At first I really, really loved it, now though it's not so high on my favourite list but it does still make me laugh - cos Barney. The final episode was so disappointing). / Hannah Montana (because if I was 13 or 16 this would have made the list. And I still love the show. My heart swells everytime my bestie sings True Friend to me. I still love Hannah Montana music okay).

I - iZombie (Rob Thomas. He's the reason I tried it out. Liv is the reason I stayed. Also Ravi. And also Major. Okay, dude, characters and plot is right on point) / Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon (Hindi series; what name do I give to this love? Its unnecessarily complicated but gosh those complications kept me on edge, staring at the screen, waiting for those idiots to realise the truth. Opposites attract. Hate to love to hate to love. They did it so well).

J - Joan of Arcadia (okay so I remember really loving this when I was younger - I haven't rewatched it as an adult but I feel like I'll still love it. I mean, come on, what if God was one of us?)

K - Kim Possible (Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me? Ultimate cartoon. Hands down. Second best is The Life and Times of Juniper Lee - she's basically the cartoon Buffy - the Chosen One - though it's hereditary instead of random? And also more fun and less heartache 'cause it's a cartoon).

L - Lucifer (Man, Lucifer. You got the guy telling everyone he's the devil and they think he's talking in metaphors? It's just hilarious to me. Detective. Romance. Snark. Supernatural. Also, Hello, Adult Tom Welling - can I even describe how excited I was to see him? Smallville, man).

M - Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir (One of the few new cartoons that I watch and love. This is just so cute and the love square is just so cute and everything is just so cute. And like we need cute stuff in our lives. Frustrating cos how oblivious can one be but also why you so cute Marinette Dupain Chang and Adrian Agreste aka Ladybug and Cat Noir)/ Malcolm in the Middle (Childhood. Childhood. Childhood. I'm not the middle child but I relate).

N - Naruto (Anime. Okay, childhood yes, also teenagehood and adulthood. Guy's been with me through everything, believe it. This show just means so much to me and I'm thankful that I got to grow up with him. Thank you, Kishimoto).

O - One Day At a Time (THANK YOU, NETFLIX! This is just one of the greatest shows on right now. I love comedy. I didn't expect it to be so emotional too. But damn it gets you right in the feels. My brother claims I'm exactly like Elena and our nephew is like Alex. I honestly don't mind. Elena is badass and strong as hell.)

P - Psych (It's just awesome? It's clever, it's funny, Shawn and Gus. The dramatics in extremely serious situations will never not make grin like a mad woman. Also private investigation shows seem to a weakness of mine. ) / Parks and Recreation (okay I never thought I'd like a mockumentary kind of series but this happened and proved me wrong and I just love this show and it's characters). / Pyaar Ka Dard Hai Meetha Meetha Pyara Pyara (Hindi Series; the pain of love is sweet and loveable. When your parents set you up with someone and you're like no way in hell and they're like okay but they you become best friends and fall in love and yeah. The name says it all, really). / Pinocchio (Asian series - one of the more complicated ones but I simply just loved these characters and actors to bits after watching it).

Q - Quantico (it's not really one of my favourites but I couldn't think of anything else and I do enjoy it. Priyanka Chopra has always been a fav since forever - Bollywood was life before I was even old enough to understand English - but it's because of this that I can understand Hindi without needing subtitles).

R - Rizzoli & Isles (who wouldn't love a show with two best friends kicking ass in the work place). / Revenge (I watched it cos I liked Emily from Everwood but the story was so intriguing and I just got addicted. It wasn't like anything I've ever seen). / Refresh Man (Asian series - officially my favourite Asian series of all time - again, thank you Netflix. Also ever since I've loved both Aaron Yan and Joanna Tseng and I'm on a mission to watch everything they've ever acted in - do you see my obsessing tenancies?).

S - Supergirl / Supernatural / Suits / Smallville (Okay! There's too many shows that start with an S. Smallville was my gateway into the superhero show - movie - comic obsession. And also I'm getting tired of commenting on everything).

T - The Good Place / The Office (US) / The Flash/ Teen Wolf (also too many with a T!)

U - Ugly Betty

V - Veronica Mars (of all time!! Man, again, random TV viewing = life changing TV show that sticks with you forever and Veronica Mars has definitely affected me way more than any other show. I couldn't get it out of my head ever since 2007! I waited for every Thursday just to watch it and naturally Thursday became my favourite day of the week - not Friday like normal scholars - nope. I think it's the way that it ended that contributed to my obsession - so much questions left unanswered and to a 12 year old girl the most important thing is of course that LoVe hadn't officially gotten back together. My mind wrote and rewrote endings and scenarios. Then I discovered fanfiction. And then I started writing. Veronica Mars made me a junkie but also helped me discover my passion. It's not just the show that makes it my #1 but the journey it's taken me on while it was on air and especially when it was off air. ALSO THE SHOW IS SIMPLY AMAZING EVEN WITHOUT ALL MY EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT - also one of the shows that I started watching and then my brother got hooked onto it).

W - What's Wrong With Secretary Kim? / Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo/ W: two worlds apart (all Asian series - OKAY, NETFLIX IS BLAMED FOR ALL OF THIS)

X - Is there anything but X-Men? I wouldn't really put the series on my favourite list but I do watch the X-Men cartoons and I have enjoyed it so imma let it be.

Y - Young Sheldon (Too smart for his own good Cooper.) / Yankee-kun to Megane-chan (Asian series - okay, this one can't be put on Netflix. It's the first Asian drama series I'd watched because of a manga that I loved).

Z - Zoey101 ('Cause there's nothing else I can think off and I enjoyed it when I was younger. I remember putting 101 after all of my usernames for everything).

So when I thought of this I thought I'd put one name for each alphabet but it didn't work out that way 'cause I obsess over everything.

I would love to get to know more about everyone's favourite shows. I'm tagging based on the Tumblr likes thing (also on my @marshmallowatheart account) and also urls I remember seeing often on the activity cos I wanted to tag as much people as possible. I'd have been cool if I could have went with the a - z for tagging but it's not working out like I wanted so next best. (Also if I didn't tag you and you wanna do it, please go for it, I'm really into this).

Anyone who wants to do this can and whoever doesn't want to it's cool! It takes time to think especially when you have to pick between things so if you want to, add as many as you like. You don't have to add comments on it if you don't want to, I just got carried away! And then got tired.

@poppy-in-the-woods @risssaar @stephaniecatlover @ihaveathingformeninwaistcoats @write-to-feel @mediocre-mee @jenilyn2000 @lalacristina18 @cainc3 @mrskissytaylor @anilcadz91 @elliebear75 @troublescout @hanitjemars @susanmichelin @cheshirecatstrut @firedragonmon

#a to z tv show challenge #get to know you meme #okay apparently theres a 30 tag limit so okay #about me #tv shows #favourite tv shows #explanations no one asked for #tag me id really love to read all your favs

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chibinightowl · 6 years ago

Note

Hi Chibi! You’re one of my favorite fan fiction writers! Your work is always so genuine and real. I know your prompts are closed so I don’t expect anything but I did want to ask you something. I’ve recently been fired from my job because of my disabilities and a very difficult manager. It’s been so emotionally exhausting and my self esteem is lower than ever. Would ever write something where Jason or Tim get fired from a job? I don’t know imagine it for myself because well, it’s them. -Love, 🐝

With an ask like this, how can I say no? Anon, this may not be exactly what you were hoping for, but the inspiration came from something that happened to me when I was in my mid 20s. It was an extremely stressful and challenging time, but in the end, I made it out in one piece and was all the stronger for it. I hope this helps you find even a glimmer of light in the dark place you’re in.

~*~*~

It took some time to notice something was wrong. After all, Tim was a young and reasonably healthy adult, so why should this even ping on his radar?

But here he was, sitting at his desk working on a report, with his heart racing. It felt like it was about to pound right out of his chest, the thuds so loud he was surprised his cubemate couldn’t hear them too. What was even more surprising though was that he didn’t feel out of breath in the slightest. Tim stopped typing and held two fingers to his wrist, searching for his pulse.

For a solid minute, he counted as his eyes watched the clock hanging on the wall.

94 beats. What the hell? Tim knew he could stand to get out and exercise more, but he wasn’t totally out of shape. Jason made sure of that when he dragged him out of the apartment on the weekend to go jogging together.

Almost as soon as he noticed the loud beat, it faded away. He took his pulse again. 68 beats.

What was going on?

Now that he was aware of it, it was easier to notice when it occurred again. And it did, twice more that day before he went home.

When he told Jason about it, his boyfriend immediately had him sit on the couch and went to get his medical kit. “Times like these makes me glad I keep this stuff at home,” he commented, wrapping a blood pressure cuff over Tim’s skinny arm and taking out his stethoscope.

“I’ll never make fun of you about it again.” Tim breathed regularly as his own personal paramedic took his vitals.

Jason frowned as he wrapped the stethoscope around his neck in a practiced movement. “Everything sounds fine.”

“It’s periodic,” Tim reminded him. “If it happens while we’re home, I’ll let you know.”

“Maybe you should make a doctor appointment anyway.”

Tim shrugged and flopped back into the couch. “Today is the first day I noticed it. Let’s wait a few days and see what happens.”

Jason clearly wasn’t happy with his decision. “Fine. You what this means then, right?”

“What?”

“No sex until it stops.”

Tim threw one of the decorative couch pillows at him.

~*~*~

As much as Tim hoped otherwise, it happened again the next day at work. Three times. And again the day after that.

He sullenly made the call to set up a doctor’s appointment during his lunch break and was able to get in at 3:45 the same day so he took it. Now he had to break the news about leaving early to his supervisor.

Tim tapped quietly on his boss’s office door. “Hey, Sandra. Got a second?”

Sandra was a middle aged woman who Tim personally thought had some OCD tendencies and was completely unsuited to her job. He didn’t know whose ass she kissed, nor did he care. She was nice enough and it wasn’t like he asked for much. “I sure do, Tim. What’s up?” she asked, glancing over the top of her wire rimmed glasses.

He entered and sat down in front of her desk. “I’ve been having something odd going on with my heart these last few days. The beats are completely irregular sometimes, even when I’m just sitting at my desk. I called my doctor and managed to get an appointment this afternoon, so I need to leave early for it.”

“My goodness!” Sandra exclaimed, giving him a closer look. “You’re too young to be having heart problems.”

Tim smiled wanly. “That’s what I said.”

“Your boyfriend is a paramedic, right? Have you told him?”

“Yes, and he checked me out best he could at home. Said I should have called for an appointment two days ago.”

Sandra nodded firmly. “I agree 100%. My husband has high blood pressure, it’s no laughing matter. Go get that checked out. You can always stay late tomorrow to make up the time if you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Tim said, rising to his feet. The flu went through the office last month and wiped out a good chunk of his accrued sick time.

“I just want you feeling better soon, Tim. You’re a great asset to this team and a good person.”

More like someone who saved her ass when she screwed up, but Tim took the compliment as it was meant. He had other things to worry about.

~*~*~

“You want me to what?” Tim asked incredulously as he buttoned his shirt.

“I want you to see a cardiologist, Tim,” Dr. Thompkins repeated.

“I am 25 years old. I’m too young to have heart problems.”

The old doctor shrugged. “Then do nothing and if you have a heart attack, I can give you this referral again.” She held up a piece of paper.

Tim snatched it from her and sighed heavily. This was why he liked Dr. Thompkins. She didn’t try to sugarcoat things. “No thanks. Jason would drag me himself if I didn’t go.”

“And that’s why your boyfriend is smarter than you. I’m sure he sees a lot of heart attacks in his line of work.” The doctor sat down next to him on the exam table. “Tim, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. Whatever is going with your heart is not normal for a healthy adult male of your age. It’ll take a few days for the bloodwork to come back. I’ll send the referral and the results to Dr. Sheldon.”

“Will it take long to get in?” Tim asked somberly. This was becoming all too real. What was wrong with him?

“I doubt it. Especially since I’m calling Lynn directly to let her know about the unusual case I’m sending over. It’s not every day a cardiologist sees someone like you.”

That didn’t make Tim feel any better.

~*~*~

It still took a week to get in to see Dr. Sheldon. During that time, Tim averaged at least two of the irregular heartbeat episodes per day, even on the weekend when he was home. He’d made Jason aware of it the one time it happened while he was home from work and his boyfriend immediately grabbed his stethoscope and pressure cuff to get a reading. He took Tim’s blood pressure twice.

Jason had looked confused when the episode ended. “That was 102 beats per minute and here you are sitting all calm like nothing is going on. Even your blood pressure is within the normal range. Maybe a little closer to the higher end, but still normal.”

“Are you coming with me to the cardiologist then?” Tim had asked.

“Hell, yeah.”

Tim was grateful for Jason’s presence in the office while he met with Dr. Sheldon. The doctor was in her mid-fifties, tall, and blonde. She had a no nonsense air about her, but her kind smile helped put him at ease.

“Tell me about what kind of work you do, Mr. Drake,” the doctor asked, leaning against the small cabinet and sink after she was finished with the physical side of the exam.

“It’s an office job. I’ve got a finance degree, so I spend most of my time analyzing data and writing up reports.”

“Is it stressful?” Dr. Sheldon probed.

Tim shook his head. “Not really. I’m good at it. The hours are regular and the pay is good.”

“What about the work environment?”

“It’s an office,” Tim replied with a shrug. “We’ve got ups and downs and the occasional crazy day. I don’t have any issues with most of my colleagues.”

Jason snorted and rolled his eyes.

The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Dr. Sheldon. “I take it you have something to add about that?”

“There is an office problem child,” Jason said, shooting Tim an apologetic glance. “Tim’s been with them for almost a year now, but he got a new manager about four months ago. She seems to cause more problems than not.”

The doctor narrowed her eyes as she turned her attention back to Tim. “Really, now?”

Tim frowned and shot Jason a dirty look, even though he could see how this was important. “It’s gotten better,” he offered. “At first, she didn’t know her left hand from her right. She spent a lot of time sitting with all of us to learn what it is we do and how our roles played into hers. I felt like she sat with me more often than the others and she seems to come to me instead of the more tenured analysts whenever something happens.”

“You’re her problem solver,” Dr. Sheldon stated plainly. “Is that stressful?”

“Sometimes? None of the other analysts want to deal with her at all.” The days where he didn’t have to fix one of Sandra’s screw ups were good days in his book. “I think she may have bitten off more than she can chew when she got transferred to my department. Whenever I’m fixing her mess, she hovers.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re clearly not having one of these episodes right now, so we’re going to hook you up with a Holter monitor and see if we can’t catch one.”

“A what?”

Jason stepped in to explain. “It’s a portable heart monitor that records everything going on with your ticker for a short period of time, usually 24 hours.”

Dr. Sheldon nodded approvingly. “I’ve had people wear it for as long as 72 hours if the arrhythmia is particularly irregular, but you said you have at least two episodes a day, so we’ll get you hooked up this afternoon. I want you to wear it all day tomorrow and stop by tomorrow evening to drop it off. Depending on what it records, I’ll schedule more tests.”

So that was how Tim found himself at work the next day with a heart monitor hooked onto his belt. The lead lines ran out from under his dress shirt through a gap between the bottommost buttons to the top of the machine. His jacket helped hide the device, but he couldn’t wear it forever.

Sandra somehow spotted the monitor and immediately called him into her office. “Oh, my goodness, Tim! Did they find anything wrong?” she all but gushed as he sat down.

“Not at the moment. I was fine while I was in there. Isn’t that always the way things seem to happen?” Tim replied, trying for some levity. Now that the whole stress idea had been brought to his attention, he could admit he did find sitting here to be rather stressful.

“It sure does,” Sandra agreed sagely before launching into another story about her husband and his blood pressure.

These were stories Tim had spent a great deal of time hearing for the last week and he resisted the urge to interrupt and remind his manager of that. His patience for her in general was wearing thin. As he sat there though, Tim suddenly noticed something.

His heart was racing for the first time since the visit to the cardiologist yesterday. The little box was catching it all.

~*~*~

Tim returned the monitor to the doctor’s office and two days later got a call to schedule a stress test and an electrocardiograph.

Jason flopped down heavily next to Tim on the couch when he got home that night and heard the news. “Fuck, Dr. Sheldon must have found something concerning if she’s having you do both of those.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, setting down his tablet on the coffee table so he could curl up next to the space heater that was his boyfriend. “Jay, what if something is wrong? I mean, seriously wrong with me?” He started shifting nervously.

“The only thing wrong with you is that you overthink things.” Jason placed his hand against Tim’s head to hold him still. “Are you worried that I’m going to give all this up if it turns out you only have like six months to live or something?”

Trust Jason to see right to the heart of the matter. “Maybe,” Tim admitted quietly. There had been a few random thoughts to that effect. It was just who he was, thinking and analyzing, playing out different scenarios in his head. Not exactly the best way to spend the time on the subway to and from the office, but what else did he have to do?

Jason gently kissed the crown of Tim’s head. “Babe, you’re not getting rid of me and I sure as fuck have no plans to leave you if the shit hits the fan. Besides, if things do get rough and you need a nurse, who else is gonna dress up for you?”

Tim laughed and shoved Jason hard. The teasing helped lighten his mood though, which was exactly what he needed. “There had better be stockings and a garter belt,” he quipped, imagining Jason in one of those sexy nurse uniforms. They didn’t mind a little role play in the bedroom sometimes. “Maybe even some lacy panties.”

“They’ll be fire engine red, just for you.”

~*~*~

The stress test came back negative, so Dr. Sheldon had Tim wear the heart monitor again until he could take the EKG a couple days later so that she could get a longer period of time to review. Over the course of those days, he had six of the damn episodes.

A technician administered the EKG while the doctor reviewed the recordings of Tim’s heartbeat. Tim laid on the exam table and tried not to think about anything as more electrodes were connected to his body. This entire experience was more mentally exhausting than anything else.

After the test was over, Dr. Sheldon came into the room to speak with him. “Mr. Drake, I’ll take a look at the EKG results here soon, but after what I retrieved from the Holter monitor, I think it may be a good idea to start a low dose of blood pressure medication.”

“But you’ve said my blood pressure is fine,” Tim said as he tugged his sweater vest back on over his dress shirt. The EKG was early enough in the day that he’d go to work after this.

“It is. However, you’ve got a definite uptick in your blood pressure during these periods of arrhythmia. It’s not dangerously high, but it is at the higher end of normal.”

Tim remembered Jason saying that same thing a couple weeks ago. “The medication is to lower my blood pressure then?”

Dr. Sheldon nodded and handed him a prescription. “We’ll start with this and see if it helps. I can tell you right now that you may experience some periods of wooziness since you do have mostly normal blood pressure. How are things going at work?”

The change in subject made Tim smile thinly. “Stressful, now that you mention it. My manager hovers even more now out of concern.”

“When was the last time you took a vacation?”

“Does having the flu for a week count?”

“Nice try.”

~*~*~

Tim discovered almost immediately that the dizziness the doctor warned him about wasn’t just periodic. It was almost all the time. Thankfully, the pharmacist and Dr. Sheldon had said he could cut these pills in half if it got too bad and could take a smaller dose every six hours. He started doing this after the first night where he ended up so lightheaded that he fell asleep insanely early and left his phone and its obnoxious alarm in the living room after he stumbled his way to bed. He’d been late to work the next day and had to sit through one of Sandra’s annoying stories about her husband.

It was small wonder the woman’s husband had high blood pressure though if this was what he had to deal with at home. He knew Sandra meant well, but it was clear as day that her emotional intelligence needed some work.

Still, even with the adjustment made to the medication, the dizziness and lightheadedness were almost constant companions.

The EKG test came back normal and Dr. Sheldon was at a loss over how to explain what was occurring with Tim’s heart. The medication did appear to be helping with the arrhythmia though, as Tim noticed he was down to maybe one episode per day. But the side effects were making it more and more difficult to do his job. There was more than one incident where he slept through his alarm and a couple times, Tim purposefully shut it off so he could just go back to sleep.

Needless to say, those were days when Jason wasn’t home.

When he did make it to work, Tim stared blearily at his screen as he tried to make sense of numbers and charts that were usually so easy for him to pick apart and dissect. Coffee wasn’t something that helped and more than once he found himself jerking awake when his cubemate jostled the back of his chair.

Things came to a head one afternoon when Sandra woke him up. “Tim, we need to talk.”

Tim nodded blearily, already knowing this wasn’t going to be one of those meandering speeches his boss loved to deliver. He followed her into the office and sat down heavily in the chair.

Sandra adjusted her glasses and folded her hands, trying for that matronly boss vibe she loved so much. “Tim, I know you’re going through a lot right now and that you’ve got the documentation to prove it, but I just got a call from the HR manager. Do you know how much time you’ve missed in the last four weeks?”

Had it been a month already? “I know I’ve missed a few days since I started the medication, and I made up the hours for when I was at an appointment.”

“But you’ve also been coming in late and those are hours I can’t let you make up. The occurrences keep piling up and now I’m afraid I have to give you a warning. Tim, if you miss another day of work or are late again, I have no choice but to let you go.”

It was a sign of just how out of it Tim was that the words didn’t register immediately. “What? But that’s not fair! I’m doing everything I can to do my job while the doctor figures out what’s wrong with me.”

“I know, Tim,” Sandra said soothingly. “I know. I wish there was something I could do, but I just don’t have the clout with HR to pull any strings.”

That was bullshit. She had lunch once a week with the HR manager and everyone on the team knew it. “What about that disability leave I’ve heard about?”

“FMLA? While you’ve worked the required number of hours to qualify for it before this started happening, you haven’t been with the company for a full year yet. It’s a rolling year at least, but you still have about six weeks before that anniversary.”

Now Tim was pissed. His heart started racing as adrenaline fueled it and for the first time since he started his meds, his head was clear. “So what am I supposed to do then? Stop taking my medicine because it’s keeping me from doing my job properly even though it’s keeping my heart beating normally? The HR manager does know I need to have a heartbeat to be here, right?”

Sandra sighed heavily. “I’m truly on your side, Tim. I really am. But the rules are the same for everyone. I know you’re upset right now, so why don’t you take a few minutes to go get some fresh air and calm down. Things have a way of working themselves out. You’ll see.”

Tim wanted to take what the woman clearly thought was sage advice and shove it up her ass. Rather than risk opening his mouth, he nodded stiffly and left the office.

This was not good. Not good at all. Tim wandered into one of the employee lounges and, despite the snow swirling lightly outside, stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The air was freezing, and he rubbed his arms through his thin dress shirt, already wishing he had remembered to grab a jacket. Still, the cold helped leech away his anger and replaced it with simmering resentment instead.

How could this be happening to him? He’d done everything he was supposed to and made sure to submit all the proper documentation for the majority of his absences. Dr. Sheldon had even included in the paperwork that there could be periodic days where he missed work due to his treatment. Instead of being treated like a human being, he was having it shoved in his face just how much of a cog in the wheel he really was. A body at a desk rather than a person.

Perhaps he should have taken that position at Wayne Enterprises in their finance department. He’d been swayed by the better pay here and it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Tim sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. Now that he was calming down, the familiar lethargy was returning full force. He was so tired. Tired of not knowing what was wrong with him. Tired of all the stress the uncertainty brought with it. Hell, he was tired of cleaning up after Sandra’s messes. Who would she tap on the shoulder to help her next if he’s fired?

He leaned against the glass door and watched the snow blow through the narrow corridor between this building and the next. The wind tossed it every which way, never giving it a chance to land. In the distance, Tim heard a dull roaring that reminded him of a jet engine coming to life. Despite the cold, he felt warmer even though he kept his hands tucked up under his arms. It was snowing after all.

The snow looked so pretty and white. It hadn’t had a chance to be tainted yet by the street below.

Tim blinked heavily. The roaring was growing louder. Was there a train coming? How did it get all the way up here?

He closed his eyes and listened as the train finally caught up with him.

~*~*~

Later on, Tim was told that one of his colleagues found him slumped over unconscious on the freezing balcony when he’d stepped outside for a quick smoke. They weren’t sure how long he’d been there, but his lips were blue and he was barely breathing.

Hypothermia on top of passing out due to his already low blood pressure. Fun times.

Jason was there when Tim woke up in the hospital. He was still a little out of it, but the emergency room doctor cleared him to go home. Tim fell back to sleep almost as soon as they arrived and didn’t wake up again for several more hours.

When he did, the full force of what just happened struck him like the train he thought he heard outside earlier. “Fuck,” he muttered and rolled over to bury his face in the mountain of pillows Jason apparently decided he needed to be comfortable. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jason must have been in the room because the mattress sank as he sat down next to Tim. “As much as I love hearing you use coherent words again, that’s usually one that comes outta my mouth instead than yours.”

Tim raised his head enough to glare at his boyfriend. “I don’t have a job anymore,” he announced.

“The fuck?” Jason’s eyes crinkled in concern. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I had a lovely meeting with Sandra this afternoon before I wandered my happy ass outside to nearly freeze to death.” He told Jason what had happened.

Jason shook his head, the color rising in his cheeks as he tried to suppress his own anger. “Goddammit. And you really think that passing out at work is the icing on the cake?”

“Considering what I was told before I did, I see no reason why it wouldn’t.” Tim buried his face back in the pillow. Suffocating sounded like a great way to go and end his misery, but it wasn’t as though his paramedic boyfriend would let him. He rolled back over to gaze up at Jason. “Jay, I don’t know what to do. Everything has gone all to hell since the arrhythmia started and I’m just so tired of it all. And that’s saying something since all I do is sleep these days.”

“Tim, there’s no reason why you need to stay there. Quit before you get fired. We’ve got some money tucked away. You can do that website design stuff you did in college to get extra cash while you job hunt.” It sounded like Jason had been thinking about this already.

“But that means you’ll have to pick up extra shifts at the station. You work hard enough as it is, you deserve your time off,” Tim protested. “I refuse to be a freeloader.”

Jason bent over and sealed his mouth over Tim’s to shut him up and distract him for a moment. “You have too strong of a work ethic to ever be a freeloader, babe. I bet that if you send in your resignation letter tonight, you’re gonna have a new job in less than a month.”

Tim scowled, even though he would admit that Jason’s faith in his marketable skills was warming. Or perhaps that was the hot water bottle tucked under his feet. “I bet there’s already an email waiting for me telling me to pack my shit and go.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Just don’t forget your stapler,” Jason replied with a grin. “It’s red, right?”

~*~*~

Ten days later, Tim had just finished removing his first ever homemade chicken pot pie out of the oven when he heard the front door open. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Jason staggering his way inside. He’d just pulled a double shift and was clearly running on fumes.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Tim called out. “Go take a shower while it cools down.”

“That smells awesome, whatever it is,” Jason said as he dropped his duffel. “Been spending time on YouTube again?”

“How else do you expect me to feed you properly?” Tim retorted with an easy grin. Multitasking in the kitchen was still beyond him, so he’d cooked each component separately before tossing them all into the dish and laid strips of puff pastry over the top. He was rather proud of how it turned out.

Rather than head to their bedroom, Jason made his way into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist and stooped over to rest his chin on his shoulder. “I think I’ll hire you as my personal chef.”

“Shouldn’t you taste it first?”

Warm lips nipped at the side of Tim’s neck. “I think you taste great. All you need is a frilly little apron and you’re set.”

Tim chuckled as he leaned into Jason. “You know, I never did get to see you in that nurse costume. All I got was you in your GCFD shirt and sweatpants.”

“Hey, I rock this shirt and you know it.” Jason licked a stripe up the other side of his neck. “I suppose fair is fair though. And I did buy those panties I promised you.”

This was the first time in over a month that Jason had approached Tim for anything more than a kiss so the ache in his body was hardly surprising. He’d taken Jason up on his bet and quit his job before they could tell him that he was fired. It had been terrifying, sending the email to Sandra and the HR manager, but the overwhelming sense of relief he felt after clicking on send made Tim realize it was the right thing to do.

His heart must have agreed because in the days since, there had not been a single arrhythmic episode and he’d stopped taking the blood pressure medication as well. Jason still kept tabs on him when he was home, but aside from that first day where Tim slept off the residual effects of hypothermia, he felt fine.

Dr. Sheldon had personally called to check in on him after she heard about what happened from Dr. Thompkins. “Isn’t it amazing what stress can do to a person?” she’d said. “I’m more certain than ever this was your body’s way of telling you to get out of a bad place.”

Tim was very inclined to agree with her.

Later on, Tim laid in bed spooning against Jason. No one ever believed that the taller man was more often the little spoon than the big one. “Guess who I got a call from this afternoon?” he asked, idly tracing a pattern into the bare skin over Jason’s hip.

“Who?” Jason murmured sleepily.

“A talent acquisition manager at Wayne Enterprises. I have an interview on Thursday with the head of their Accounting and Finance department.”

Jason stirred in his arms. “The department head?”

“Yes.” Tim gently kissed the warm skin on Jason’s shoulder. “I apparently have enough experience now that I can be considered for a supervisory position.”

Jason’s deep rich laugh echoed through the bedroom. “Now isn’t that just a giant fuck you to that bitch. I feel like I should send her a thank you card with a picture of my middle finger.”

“I haven’t gotten the job yet,” Tim reminded him.

“You will,” Jason said with certainty. “Looks like I may be losing my personal chef sooner than I thought.”

“You can still get me that apron.”

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Hurt/Comfort #Long Oneshot #JayTim #No Capes AU

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